Chapter 78

Victoria Lowell's fingers absently traced the rim of her teacup as she spoke.

The tea had long gone cold, but she didn't notice.

Her mind drifted back to that moment when Emily Lowell had stood before her with red-rimmed eyes, whispering, "Mom, I'm really out of money."

A simple conversation, yet her three sons had pounced like protective beasts, hurling accusations at her.

The scene felt eerily familiar.

Just like when Sophia Laurent had been surrounded by the entire family, subjected to their relentless criticism.

Nathan Lowell stared blankly at his phone screen.

The hashtag #LowellSwitchedAtBirth still trended, its origins tracing back to his live stream.

William Lowell opened his mouth, then turned away in silence.

"Victoria," Richard Lowell suddenly grasped his wife's hand. "Sophia has always been soft-hearted. A little coaxing is all it'll take."

He lowered his voice. "The more she resists, the more it proves she still cares."

William immediately agreed. "Exactly. Blood ties can't be severed so easily. She's just throwing a tantrum—"

Victoria watched the pale light of dawn through the window, her fingers trembling slightly.

Maybe... there was still hope?

As morning mist lingered, Sophia spotted the mother and son waiting outside the studio.

"Sophia..."

Victoria held a thermal container, her smile tentative.

Sophia didn't pause.

"Mrs. Lowell. Business?"

The formal address drained the color from Victoria's face.

Nathan stepped forward, barely containing his irritation.

"Mom made your favorite seafood congee."

His tone was uncharacteristically gentle, as if soothing a temperamental cat.

Sophia laughed.

So the untouchable Nathan Lowell could speak like a normal person.

Too late.

"I'm an orphan. You must have me confused with someone else."

Nathan grabbed her wrist.

"Say that again."

Sophia studied the veins bulging on his hand, her smile widening.

"There it is."

She effortlessly twisted free.

"Did you really think..."

Morning light caught her lashes, casting icy shadows.

"...I'd come crawling back for scraps of affection?"

The container hit the ground with a dull thud.

Fragrant steam rose from the spilled congee.

"Only the favored dare act so recklessly."

Sophia stepped over the warm puddle.

"Your regret now only proves one thing..."

When she turned, the rising sun burned in her eyes.

"...the discarded pawn has become the queen."