Chapter 211: The Real Show Begins
What Blue sincerely wanted today was Jackson’s birthday, and the Powell family’s West End presence, saving face. They disliked her; they couldn't afford to show their hatred publicly.
Sure enough, Backson gave a nod of acknowledgment before Linda offered him tea. As they passed each other, Lauda glanced at Elsie. At that moment, Elsie had truly stolen Taylor’s thunder. Taylor’s face remained blank, but Elsie took the chance, while ** was watching, to lean in and whisper, “Beyler, even Mr. Jakt isn’t holding it against me anymore, so you shouldn’t either. Otherwise, the only one who will look bad is you.”
She looked up, eyes locked on Taylor’s with a challenging gaze. She knew Taylor had a temper; she wouldn't be able to resist the provocation. Sure enough, Taylor’s eyes darkened, and she lost control for a moment, raising her hand.
This was what Elsie had been waiting for. If Beylor dared to strike her, she’d immediately fall to the ground; but then, Taylor would be stuck with the label of a jealous, spiteful woman. That was precisely how she had destroyed Yunice back then. Prejudice is a stain you can’t wash out; when people get the wrong idea, the truth doesn't stand a chance. How do you argue with a story they’re predisposed to believe?
“Was this ginseng acquired properly?”
Just as Mr. Plate was about to take a sip, a voice rang out from the second floor. Taylor immediately stopped, her aggression subsiding. Like the others, she looked up toward the railing.
There, a young girl in a princess dress, calm and serene, smiled down at the crowd. She turned and began walking toward them. As she passed the landing, the Powell family realized she was the one who had thrown the vase from upstairs earlier. The latter had come up to a halt; her lat was pinned down by one of Wyatt’s bald bodyguards.
Your made her way down the stairs with grace and poise, stepping into full view.
Back when she and Lily had been sent back to the Saunders family, dressed racy like beccar, Yunice had been wearing a pristine white princess dress just like this. No one could have known how bitter she felt back then, covering the clean, radiant Yunice who looked like a blooming gardenia. She stood across from her. The very first moment she saw Yunice, Elsie had vowed to tear every one of those dresses to shreds with her own hands.
For years, she thought she’d succeeded. Ever since Yunice returned from the asylum, she’d only worn cheap street clothes. Elsie hadn’t thought much of it—until now. That same old bitterness came rushing back.
Why did Yunice get to live better than me?
“Yunny, what are you doing here?” Owen stepped in front of Yunice, frowning as he whispered. “Mr. Jackson still doesn’t like you being around Wyatt. Don’t ruin the mood on such a happy day. Go back inside.”
Elsie’s presence was treated as an honor, while hers was seen as nothing but a disruption.
Yunice paused, her lips curving. “I’m here to wish my father-in-law a happy birthday—how is that ruining the mood!”
“What—” Owen’s face turned awkward as he glanced at Jackson. Only then did he remember that Yunice no longer shared the same generation as him.
She brushed past Owen’s shoulder, not sparing him a second glance. Today was a special day; everyone would be on their best behavior. Anyone who started a fight would be the one under fire. The more cautious they were, the more room she had to maneuver.
Yunice circled the century-old ginseng. Taylor, looking thoughtful, asked, “Ms. Saunders, do you have thoughts about this ginseng? Just now, it sounded like you said it wasn’t obtained properly.”
Yunice smiled. “It just looks familiar.”
Elsie clenched her fingers but kept her expression calm. Yunice turned to Owen and smiled again. “Mr. Owen, don’t you think this ginseng looks familiar too?”
Owen didn’t respond right away. His eyes stayed on the ginseng. The moment he saw it, he’d already thought of the one Quinton had gifted them. But that one had already been returned; there was no way it was this one. He had no idea what Yunice was implying—he just knew she was stirring up trouble.
“That’s quite a layman’s take, Mr. Owen,” Yunice replied. “How could all ginseng look the same? You’re human; Elsie is human too. Are the two of you identical?”
Owen frowned, warning her. He had told her before—never call Elsie by her real name in public! Fortunately, few people present even knew who Elsie was, so no one really paid attention.
Yunice ignored the warning and continued. “Just like people, every piece of ginseng has its own identity. Even if its label is removed, it will still prove its worth.”