Huddled in the ward doorway, too afraid to approach, both bore dirt stains—though the woman’s clothes were heavily soiled, the boy’s nearly clean.

Trembling with nervous tension, eyes darting like she was treading ice, the woman seemed worlds apart from her earlier arrogance. Her mischievous, rude son now cowered behind her, too scared to even peek out. Alarieka only saw his small hand clutching her pants.

Parched, she took the cup from the director and drank.

Seeing this, the director smiled and straightened. “Mr. Argent and Ms. Huston, since you haven’t had children, you likely can’t grasp an elder’s worry. Seeing a child sob like that tugs at your heart—that’s why I didn’t stop my niece immediately. I hope you’ll understand.”

“Of course, had I known it was Ms. Huston, I’d have intervened at once. I just gave my niece and grandnephew a stern scolding. They insisted on apologizing to you personally, and I told them to explain everything clearly to avoid misunderstandings.”

As Alarieka finished drinking and moved to set the cup down, the director stepped forward, took it, and placed it on the nightstand for her.

Staring into his eyes, she sensed none of the tension he’d shown when first meeting Kieran—only ease and comfort now.

Earlier, he’d treated her with deference, yet now every word and action catered solely to Kieran’s presence.

Something had definitely shifted.

“Speak.”

Kieran’s voice was cold and clipped.

The director immediately bowed and scraped, waving for the woman and little boy to approach.

The woman looked tense, clutching her son’s hand as they slowly walked forward.

She first turned to Kieran, bending in a humble, reverent bow. “Mr. Argent.”

The woman tugged the boy behind her. He peeked out, keeping his head down as he mumbled, “Mr. Argent…”

Then Alarieka watched the woman’s expression shift. The humble deference vanished when she looked her way, replaced by something perfunctory and impolite. “Ms. Huston.”

Alarieka subtly raised an eyebrow but remained silent.

Her son followed suit, treating her with little courtesy. Just now, he hadn’t dared meet Kieran Argent’s eyes, but now he glared at her resentfully, holding his breath, and reluctantly muttered, “Ms. Huston.”

At this moment, Alarieka Huston finally understood the variable.

Earlier, they hadn’t known her identity and mistook her for Clarissa Argent, Kieran Argent’s biological sister. That’s why they’d called her Ms. Argent and treated her with reverence and groveling respect.

But from their current attitude and the “Ms. Huston” address, Alarieka could guess what happened.

These people must’ve looked up information, discovering she wasn’t Kieran’s real sister or Clarissa Argent. Plus, with the recent uproar about her and Roschelle Whitaker, finding her true identity online was child’s play.

Reality unfolded exactly as Alarieka expected.

Dean Li had genuinely worried about offending Mr. Argent and his sister. He’d been brainstorming apologies to win their forgiveness until, desperate, he frantically searched online for Mr. Argent and his sister’s details.

The search results were eye-opening.

As hospital dean, he was too busy for online gossip and completely unaware of the viral drama.

Scrolling through netizens’ posts and media reports, he pieced together the truth: Mr. Argent’s “sister” was an impostor.

Alarieka Huston was just Wallace Argent’s driver’s daughter. Adopted years ago as the family’s pampered princess, she’d recently been thrown out and now rented a flat.

Alarieka had become the Argents’ worthless, discarded pawn.

Dean Li’s rise from rural roots proved his shrewdness. The explosive online buzz, one-sided public opinion, and Kieran Argent’s official statement all pointed to one thing.

The Mcintosh Piano Competition’s virality owed everything to Kieran’s behind-the-scenes maneuvering.