When Maeve learned that the woman in question was the daughter of the Booth family and the McDaniel Group CEO's secretary, she immediately thought of Karen. To be sure, she asked, "What's her name?"

Leah replied without hesitation, "Karen Booth."

Maeve nodded. "I won't forget this name." It was exactly as she expected.

Previously, office designers had mentioned that Finesse Bloom was connected to the Booth family, but Maeve hadn't paid attention. Unexpectedly, it was a brand founded by Karen, who had poached Eternal Hope's design team, plagiarized their designs, and become successful in the industry. This confirmed her capabilities.

Maeve frowned, thinking, "After Trend Style Magazine replaced me, Finesse Bloom's designer took over. What a coincidence! Did Karen kidnap me then not only for revenge, but also for this?"

"Maeve, what are you thinking about?" Leah asked, noticing Maeve's daze. She patted Maeve's shoulder. "Are you still going to make Miss Fiora's gown?"

Maeve snapped out of her thoughts. "I'm going to the studio now. I'll finish it by the 10th of next month at the latest."

Leah said, "Alright. Forget about the interview. There will be other opportunities."

Maeve smiled. "I know." However, she knew another interview was unlikely. Disappointment was useless; she'd focus on the present.

Leah saw the wound on Maeve's face and felt sympathy, but she didn't comment, leaving in her high heels.

Maeve then went to her studio and checked Finesse Bloom's website. She discovered a princess from the Erancian royal family had commissioned a gown. Further research revealed the princess was the queen's cousin and had a well-publicized feud with Fiora. Both the queen and princess seemed poised to one-up each other at the state banquet.

Maeve's expression calmed. Legally, she couldn't act against Karen, but other avenues might yield results.

For the next few days, Maeve worked intensely in the studio, even having lunch there to save time. When she finally took a break, her phone rang. She was stunned to see the caller ID.

"Mom?" she answered.

"Maeve, what have you been doing? You haven't called," Valda scolded. "Your brother's back from vacation. Come home for dinner if you can." Maeve was unused to her mother's gentle tone after so long.

Agreeing to come home that evening, she added, "I'll be home tonight after work."

"Alright," Valda said. "Don't forget to bring your husband."

Maeve was surprised. "He's very busy; he might not be free." Lately, they barely saw each other, and she'd been deliberately avoiding him.

Valda didn't press, simply saying, "Alright," and hanging up.

Maeve stared blankly before resuming work on the gown's folds. She preferred hand-finishing the creases because tool-made ones were too stiff.

That evening, on her way to the Reese family home, Maeve was roughly bumped by her brother, Horace, who was dressed in a yellow sweater and ripped jeans. He ignored her and strode inside.

"Horace, is that how you greet your sister?" Maeve called after him.

He stopped and sneered, "Don't try to boss me around just because you're older. You're nothing." He then sauntered inside.

Maeve frowned, noting his increasing rebelliousness since high school. He'd been well-behaved as a child.

At dinner, Maeve raised his behavior with her parents, hoping they'd address his educational issues.

Valda dismissed her concerns. "Which boy isn't rebellious? Horace will mature."

Scott agreed. "He's just straightforward; he doesn't mean harm."

Maeve was speechless. He's a high school senior. When will he learn? she thought.

Suddenly, her chair was kicked. Horace rolled his eyes at her before sitting near Valda, ordering, "Mom, get my food."

"You're a senior. Do you need Mom to feed you?" Maeve asked incredulously.

"None of your business," Horace retorted. Unbelievably, Valda got his food for him.

"Mom, he's not a child anymore," Maeve insisted.

"He's always my baby," Valda said disapprovingly. "Why are you so critical of him today? Eat. We need to tell you something."

"What?" Maeve asked.

"Eat first," Scott said, folding the newspaper. "Horace, put down your phone."

Horace pouted. "Dad, Mom, why not tell her now? Are you afraid she'll lose her appetite? She's our cash cow; just tell her."

Maeve's expression changed. Valda quickly interjected, "Horace, don't be ridiculous. She's your sister."

"Sister, my ass," Horace scoffed. "Didn't you always say she's adopted?"

Scott shouted, "Shut up!"

Horace quieted, eating braised pork.

Valda said, "Maeve, he's joking. Don't mind him."

Maeve lost her appetite. Their constant nagging had provoked Horace's outburst about her being their "cash cow." They viewed her monthly contributions not as filial piety, but as income.

"Tell me what you need to say. I'm leaving," Maeve said calmly.

Valda and Scott exchanged glances. "Horace bullied a classmate, injuring the child's eye. The parents want compensation or they'll call the police..."