Chapter 1

30 years ago, on Christmas Eve, Emma and Edward Grant were married at Grant Manor. The manor was her wedding gift. And every year since, they had hosted a Christmas Eve party there.

Back then, Emma had married Edward against the wishes of her parents and friends, all for the sake of love. She had willingly chosen a divorced man who already had a son.

But now, Edward had painted the entire front of the once-stately manor pink, all just to please his mistress.

Emma's expression instantly turned cold.

Without wasting a word on the mistress, Irene Quinton, she pulled out her phone and called Edward.

Edward usually picked up within seconds. But this time, the phone rang for a long time before going unanswered.

As soon as the call disconnected, a message from Edward arrived.

"What's wrong? Caleb and I are in a meeting."

A meeting?

Just half an hour earlier, Caleb Grant had sent me a video showing himself diving with a client in Marinova.

It seemed that neither Edward nor Caleb had expected us to come back early. They hadn't even had a chance to get their stories straight.

What made us even angrier was that Edward, who supposedly was in a meeting, immediately called Irene.

Irene clearly noticed the look on Emma's face and deliberately put the call on speaker.

Edward's gentle voice came through the phone.

"Darling, do you like the manor in pink? Caleb insisted on buying Anne a bigger diamond ring. Give us a little more time. We'll be there soon."

With each word Edward spoke, the disappointment in Emma's eyes grew heavier.

Irene cooed, "Darling, I adore everything you've prepared for me. But two clueless women came today and picked a fight with me. I'm really upset!"

Edward paused, then said coldly, "They have some nerve, upsetting you like that. Wait for me, darling. I'll be right there to handle this."

Just as I was about to confront Edward, Emma held me back.

"It's fine. We'll wait here."

Irene ended the call, then gave us a slow, deliberate once-over. A mocking laugh escaped her lips.

"You really think a fake fur coat makes you look like high society? Don't make me laugh. You're nothing but an old, crippled tramp. How dare you act so high and mighty in front of me?

"My husband might cheat, but there's no way he'd ever be interested in someone like you."

She raised her voice on purpose.

Within moments, the guests chatting near the manor entrance had clustered around us.

"Who are these people? How dare they challenge Mrs. Grant?"

"Exactly. Everyone knows how much Mr. Grant adores her. If he hears about this, they won't last a day in Summerfield."

I looked up and noticed that these people were neither the business partners typically invited to the party nor relatives of the Grant family.

They were a group of influencers.

Emma had never tolerated influencers who came to the manor only to snap pictures and beg for attention online.

Before Emma could even respond, they had their phones out and were shoving them in our faces, snapping picture after picture.

"Didn't you hear her? Mrs. Grant said she's an old homewrecker!"

"She probably tried to seduce Mr. Grant and came here today hoping to climb into his bed!"

"At her age, she really thinks she's still a catch?"

"Hurry up and film them! Let our followers see what they really look like!"

Irene looked absolutely delighted.

She jabbed a finger toward Emma and said, "One's after my husband. The other's after my stepson. Too bad for them. I'm running the Grant household now, and I won't allow it."

Just as Irene's finger was about to poke Emma in the face, I reached out and smacked her hand away.

I stepped in front of Emma and fixed Irene with a cold glare.

"You're just a mistress. How dare you claim you run the Grant household? Let me tell you something. The woman standing in front of you is the real Mrs. Grant!

"If you don't believe me, then call the manor's butler and ask him yourself!"

The manor had stood for 30 years, and every member of the household staff had been personally hired by Emma.

There was no reason he wouldn't recognize her.

Irene stumbled back, nearly losing her balance.

She clutched the hand I'd just hit and shrieked, "Who do you think you are? How dare you hit me? You bitches just won't quit until you hit rock bottom, will you?"

Then she grabbed her phone and made a quick call.

Soon, several staff members in housekeeper uniforms hurried over.

Emma let out a breath of relief the moment she saw them coming.

"How did Grant Manor end up overrun with people like this?"

She shook her head.

"Hurry and escort them off the property..."

Before Emma could finish her sentence, the housekeepers strode over and seized her by both arms.

"What do you think you are?" one of them snapped. "How dare you cause a scene in front of Mrs. Grant?"

"Get out of here right now! Don't ruin the party Mr. Grant prepared for Mrs. Grant!"