Chapter 4

That blue suit had been personally designed for me by my late grandmother. As an internationally renowned fashion designer, it was her final masterpiece.

In my previous life, I had once pointed at it and told Abigail happily that I wanted to wear it on our wedding day.

I had always kept it carefully stored in the Foster family's villa on the outskirts of Jorvale. I had no idea when Abigail took it, and I certainly didn't know that she gave it to Louis.

"Take it off immediately!" I said coldly.

Panic flickered across Louis' eyes. "Abby bought this especially for me!"

Abigail flew into a rage. "What's wrong with you, Connor? If you want to bully someone, at least consider the occasion. You're screaming like a madman! Someone acting like this has no right to be with me—"

I shouted back, "Abigail, explain yourself clearly! Where did this suit come from?"

"I bought it!" she snapped, raising her voice as well. "Connor, if you keep making a scene, you're going to regret it!"

Louis spoke up. "Please don't argue because of me. Oh—"

In his panic, Louis jerked his arm upward, and I watched helplessly as he ripped the cuff of this one-of-a-kind suit wide open.

My mind reeled, and I hit him across the face.

Louis covered his face, looking utterly aggrieved. "Connor, even if you're jealous of me, you still have to think about Abby."

Abigail's fury nearly burst through the screen. "Connor, apologize to Louie immediately!"

"What are you doing?"

A pleasant scent of gardenia filled my nose as a calm and cool female voice sounded above me. I hadn't expected to see Grace Sutton here.

Louis had no idea who she was. His face twisted as he snapped, "Who do you think you are? Do you know that I'm—"

"I don't know you. I only know that this gentleman is the only heir in the current generation of the Foster family," Grace replied.

She raised her eyes slightly, her gaze icy. "Are you trying to assault the only heir of the Foster family in public?"

At the words "only heir of the Foster family", Louis visibly trembled. Abigail also fell silent.

Grace positioned herself to block Abigail and Louis from view and looked up at me. Her voice held a barely perceptible softness. "Mr. Foster, would you like me to accompany you home?"

…

On the day of my 20th birthday banquet, Abigail still looked displeased when she entered.

"Mr. Foster Senior wants the four of us to go to his study later. The results will be announced privately first," she said to the other three women.

Then she walked up to me and said, "Connor, if you apologize to Louie now, I might still consider forgiving you."

Her movement was too abrupt, and the champagne in her hand nearly splashed onto me. Someone pulled me back just in time, and I stepped away.

I turned around and heard Grace ask softly, "Are you alright?"

When Abigail saw that it was her, she scoffed disdainfully. "Women from insignificant families always try to ingratiate themselves. Don't think showing up gives you the right to marry into the Foster family. You're only here to make up the numbers."

She said to me, "Connor, this is the last time I'll ask you. Are you apologizing to Louie or not?"

I turned my head away, ignoring her. Grace narrowed her eyes slightly and watched us in silence.

"Connor, don't come crying and begging me for forgiveness later," Abigail said before storming off.

Half an hour before the banquet began, the eldest daughters of each of Jorvale's four major families gathered in Dad's study. What they didn't know was that I was in the adjacent room, watching everything unfold through the surveillance feed.

With Dad's approval, the lawyer solemnly read the document aloud.

"After official notarization, Grace Sutton is hereby designated as the marital partner of Connor Foster, the seventh-generation sole heir of the Foster family. She is granted full authority over the finances and internal affairs of both Foster Group and Sutton Group."