“Overseas?” Mindy asked, feeling stunned.

“Yes,” Miranda confirmed. “In Southeast Alanda, both the e-book and physical sales of ‘Murder’ and ‘The Deserted School’ have consistently ranked among the top sellers.”

Mindy was taken aback again. “I didn’t even know those books were released overseas…”

“I did some estimates,” Miranda continued. “The total revenue from these books over the years is at least…”

She held up five fingers.

Lionel guessed, “Half a million?”

“Be bolder, Dad.”

“Five million?” Lionel asked, eyes widening.

Miranda shook her head. “50 million.” And that was a conservative estimate.

Lionel was left speechless.

“Mom,” Miranda said gently, sitting beside Mindy and taking her hand, “I know you must be feeling overwhelmed right now, but the past is the past. With the contract expiring, this marks the end of those ten deeply tied years with Edith.”

“The most important thing now is figuring out how to make up for lost time. I understand that, more than the financial losses, what hurts you the most is seeing your work buried and unrecognized."

“How many decades does a writer have to create?”

Mindy turned away, her shoulders starting to tremble.

“I’ve sent your completed but unpublished works to an editor. You should meet him. He’ll guide you on what to do next…”

Taking a deep breath, Mindy nodded, “Alright.”

That night, faint sobbing could be heard from the guest room, accompanied by Lionel’s gentle words of comfort.

Miranda lay awake, staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep.

The following day, Miranda and Lionel accompanied Mindy to a café. It was nestled behind an office building that was almost empty, with just a few patrons sitting around since the lunchtime crowd had dispersed.

A fluffy Ragdoll cat lazily sprawled over the counter. Hearing the door chime, it only yawned before closing its eyes again.

By the window sat a man with a square face, wearing black-rimmed glasses, a simple white shirt, and casual trousers. He exuded a scholarly, upright demeanor. He glanced outside the large window, seemingly waiting for someone.

When he heard the door chime, he turned back, eyes lighting up as he quickly stood and walked toward Mindy.

“Hello, Ms. Harrison,” he greeted. “I’m Warren Stone from Ten Directions Publishing.” He then nodded politely toward Miranda and Lionel.

“We’ll leave you to talk,” Miranda said, looking at her mother. “Dad and I will wait outside.”

Mindy nodded.

Warren pulled out a chair for her and called over a server, asking what she would like to drink.

Mindy, feeling unenthused, ordered just a glass of lemonade.

Since yesterday, she had felt adrift, overwhelmed by a deep, unspeakable sadness, not knowing whom to blame or where to channel her pain.

For ten years, she’d entrusted her entire career to Edith. Despite being rejected countless times, she never doubted Edith’s integrity.

Having her trust betrayed just cut too deeply.

Warren looked at her earnestly. “Ms. Harrison, let me be direct. Would you be interested in publishing ‘Lantern,’ ‘The Curse,’ ‘The Ancestor’s Tomb,’ and ‘Seraphilian Era Ghost Chronicles’?”

“What?” Mindy was stunned for a full 30 seconds before she processed his words, still bewildered.

What was he saying?

Sensing her confusion, Warren gave an apologetic smile. “I know this is sudden, but after reading the works Miranda sent me, this is the decision the publisher and I reached."

“Before meeting you, I had prepared many ways to approach this conversation. But now, I believe being straightforward is the most sincere way.”

These four books had all been rejected by Edith. Yet, Mindy, unwilling to let them go, had still written them as practice pieces.