Chapter 212

Annie's POV

Through the monitor, I watched as Betty Baker looked around and then leaned closer to the intercom, her voice surprisingly calm and polite:

"Tm looking for Howard Thompson. Is Howard home?"

My finger hovered over the response button, but I couldn't bring myself to press it. How should I respond? Should I pretend no one was home? Or should I directly address this woman who had once been so aggressive toward me? I took a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart.

Just then, Howard returned from the kitchen carrying a plate of freshly cut pineapple and strawberries. His footsteps made me turn slightly. When he saw my expression, he immediately sensed something was wrong.

"Who's at the door?" he asked, brow furrowing slightly as he set down the fruit plate.

"Betty Baker," my voice was tight, "Philip's mother."

Howard's eyes widened slightly before returning to their usual calm. He placed the fruit plate on a nearby table and stood beside me, his shoulder lightly touching mine. That small contact provided immense comfort.

"How did she find this place?" he asked quietly.

"I don't know," I admitted, watching Betty impatiently press the doorbell again. "She shouldn't know I'm living here."

Through the intercom, we heard her repeat: "I'm looking for Howard Thompson.Is Howard home?"

Howard turned to me, eyebrow slightly raised. "Do you think I should see her?"

I hesitated for a moment, curious about his relationship with Betty. "You've... met her a few times before, right? What kind of person is she to you?"

Howard's lips curved slightly upward, his eyes carrying a hint of mockery."Do I seem like the type of person who comes running whenever someone calls? Especially someone like her."

The disdain in his tone reminded me that Howard had indeed encountered Betty several times before,but those occasions had never been pleasant. Betty always positioned herself as an "Upper East Side socialite,"attempting to boss everyone around, but Howard never played along.

"Good point," I laughed softly, feeling slightly more relaxed.

Howard picked up the internal phone, speaking calmly to security: "Just tell her I'm not home."

Through the monitor, I watched the security guard approach Betty,his tone professional and polite: "I'm sorry, Mrs. Baker. Mr. Thompson left early this morning with his daughter and isn't here now."

Betty clearly didn't believe him. Her chin lifted slightly-that arrogant gesture I knew all too well. "Just tell him I want to discuss something about Annie Baker. I'm sure he'll want to see me."

Hearing my name from her lips, my back instantly straightened. She had come here because of me? What did she want to say? A mix of curiosity and wariness rose within me.

"But Mr. Thompson really isn't here," the guard insisted. "If you'd like to leave your contact information, I can pass along your message."

I turned to Howard, an idea forming in my mind. "Maybe you should go see her," I said quietly. "I'm curious about what she has to say about me.If she's spreading lies, at least I'll know what those lies are."

Howard studied my expression, his gray eyes seeming to see through my unease. After a moment, he nodded: "All right, I'll see her. But," his voice softened, his hand gently squeezing my shoulder, "don't worry. I know you, far better than she claims to."

That simple affirmation gave me immense courage. In the five years I had spent with Philip, he had never believed in me so unconditionally.

I remained inside, watching the situation through the security monitor.Howard's figure appeared on screen as he walked toward the main gate,speaking quietly to the security guard.

"Sorry, I just got back," he said to the guard, then turned to Betty. "You may speak now."

Betty's expression changed. Her meticulously maintained face adopted a look I knew all too well-that expression when she believed she possessed absolute truth. I noticed she was wearing an expensive Chanel suit today,her hair perfectly styled, every inch the Upper East Side socialite.

"Mr. Thompson," her voice carried an affected elegance, "I've come here with good intentions. I believe you've chosen to be with Annie Baker primarily because you don't know her true character."

She paused,seemingly for dramatic effect: "Once you understand her true nature,you'll certainly reconsider your relationship."

I saw that Howard's posture remained unchanged, his voice as calm as ever:′′Idon't think so."

"Don't be so quick to judge!" Betty raised her voice slightly. "After all,how long have you known her? A few months? I've known her for over five years. I'm certainly more aware of what kind of person she is,wouldn't you agree?"

Howard nodded expressionlessly: "Continue."

This brief response was clearly not what Betty had expected,but she quickly adjusted her strategy: "You know Annie comes from a single-parent family in Boston, right?"

"Yes," Howard replied, his voice carrying a hint of impatience, "Is that a problem?"

Betty's expression grew more contemptuous, and she lowered her voice as if sharing some earth-shattering secret: "Her father didn't actually die. That was just a lie she and her mother made up. The truth is, her father saw through their true nature, realized their terrible character, and chose to leave. He felt thnat every day spent with them was torture, which is why he abandoned them."

Hearing these blatant lies, I felt a wave of anger surge from my chest to my head. My father had died in a serious car accident when I waseight years old, an experience that had been incredibly painful for both my mother and me. How could Betty so maliciously distort the facts!

I almost rushed toward the front door, completely forgetting my original plan to just observe.

On the monitor, I saw Howard's mouth twitch slightly. He didn't directly refute Betty's lies but maintained an astonishing calmness. He merely nodded slightly, his eyes holding a sharp gleam I was growing increasingly familiar with.

"Please continue," he said, his voice so calm it was almost dangerous. "I'm very interested in hearing all of your 'knowledge' about Annie."

Betty clearly hadn't noticed the warning in his tone and simply nodded,as if she had finally found someone willing to listen to her.

Betty raised her chin, her face bearing a smug expression.

"Her mother is a complete parasite," she said, each word deliberately contemptuous, "and Annie is just like her mother."

Howard's eyebrows raised slightly, but he remained silent. I noticed his fingers lightly tapping along the edge of his pocket-a small habit when he was feeling impatient.

"What did she do after getting married?" Betty asked rhetorically, her tone exaggerated. "Refused to work! Just content being a housewife, like some outdated TV character."

She stepped closer to Howard, as if sharing a secret.

"And she constantly asked Philip for money to support her incompetent mother." She made a disgusted face, her jewelry glittering in the sunlight. "In today's society, can you believe women like this still exist? Doesn't she know how hard it is to make money on Wall Street?"

Howard's expression remained calm, but I could see a spark of anger flash in his eyes.

At that mnoment, I pushed open the front door, feeling my face burning with anger. "You say I took your son's money?" My voice was calm,though my heart was turbulent.

Betty turned to me, a flicker of surprise in her eyes before she resumed her

superior demeanor. "What else? Can you deny it?"

Betty's confidence transformed the anger in my chest into a strange calm.I couldn't help but laugh, a laugh containing years of accumulated anger and relief.

"If that's the case, Betty," I slowly walked toward her, "I suggest we call your precious son right now and confront him face toface."

Howard stepped back,giving me space, his eyes shining with approval and support. Betty retreated slightly, clearly not expecting me to face her so directly.

"I would be delighted," I continued,′′togo through,item by item,exactly how much of his money I supposedly used, and how that money was spent!"

I looked straight into her eyes, feeling myself stand taller. I was no longer the Annie who would shrink away from her harassment.

"In fact," my voice was firm, my finger lightly tapping my chest, "I would be happy to have Philip tell you himself that I refused his financial support for my mother because I didn't want my marriage to have any connection with money!"

A flicker of panic crossed Betty's beautiful face. She reflexively adjusted her silk scarf, her meticulously groomed eyebrows trembling slightly. I knew I had hit a nerve. In her world, all relationships revolved around interests and money. She could never understand that my marriage to Philip had never been about money.

"You're deliberately misinterpreting what I said," she tried to salvage the situation, but her voice had lost its previous confidence.