Third Person's POV
Her tone softened. "It's not you?"
"Of course not! Someone's trying to drive a wedge between us," Richard said, beads of sweat forming on his forehead.
"I don't care! Wire another million to my account! My men are hurt like this because we're doing favors for you! Give us the money, and we'll leave tonight!" Bianca seized the opportunity to demand more.
"Do you take me for a philanthropist? I've already given you five million. Is that not enough?" Richard sneered. He was no pushover.
"We got hurt while working for you. You should take responsibility!"
"I told you to leave earlier. You didn't listen. Serves you right!" Richard snapped.
Bianca had to back down—Richard had indeed warned her to leave. "Fine, next time we work together, it'll cost you more than that!"
She hung up resentfully and left the resort with her badly injured crew.
Late at night, Blake emerged after a shower. Catherine pointed to his phone. "Someone's been calling you nonstop."
Blake glanced at the caller ID and returned the call.
He shot Catherine a meaningful look before stepping outside.
Why take a call this late and avoid her?
Women's instinct to overthink kicked in.
Blake returned shortly, tossed his phone on the table, and noticed Catherine had turned away. He asked with a smile, "Jealous?"
"No," Catherine lied.
"It was an important call, and it wasn't from a woman," Blake explained proactively.
"I didn't ask." Catherine retorted, though she softened slightly. Her tone still carried a hint of petulance.
Blake sighed, sat on the bed, and pulled her into his arms. "Stop acting up."
"I'm not jealous." Catherine struggled, but her voice betrayed her. She knew she couldn't stay angry with him.
Feeling her body relax, Blake chuckled softly, his eyes filled with tender affection.
"Catherine, Patricia's been urging us to have another child. What do you think?" He teased her on purpose, loving how she'd react.
"Haven't you told her we're not having more?" Catherine panicked.
If Blake had brought it up, she could refuse outright, but Patricia's influence in the family was immense, making it hard to say no.
"I have, but she believes more is better," Blake said with mock seriousness.
"Really? One son and one daughter are perfect. Having more would just create chaos," Catherine said hopefully, wishing he'd agree.
Blake couldn't hold back and kissed her anxious eyes.
Catherine closed her eyes, feeling his warm lips.
"What are you laughing at? I'm serious!" she protested.
"Just teasing you! Grandma's never even mentioned it," Blake confessed.
"Boring!" Catherine rolled her eyes, breaking free and lying on the bed. "No more jokes like that, or I'll ignore you!"
"Got it, got it. Promise I'll behave," Blake said, feigning sincerity as he climbed under the covers.
"You wish!" Catherine breathed rapidly.
"Then I'll have to show you I'm sorry," Blake said as he slid into bed.
"Y - You ... I don't want to!" Catherine's protest was in vain.
Sunny invited Moira for afternoon tea, eager to learn more about Olivia.
Moira dressed up for the outing, unaware a storm was brewing.
No sooner had they sat down at the restaurant than a shrill voice from the next table sneered, "Dressed to the nines and still a hick—trying too hard to be a lady."
Sunny turned sharply to see Kara, Tasha's sharp-tongued aunt. A notorious busybody in high-society circles, Kara harbored a grudge against Moira for marrying Urban and never missed a chance to taunt her, often comparing her to her deceased sister.
Moira paled but, as always, chose to swallow her pride.
"What did you say?" Sunny couldn't contain her fury and demanded an answer.
"Oh, look, she brought her little lapdog..."
The flood of insults pushed Sunny over the edge. She grabbed a water glass and flung it at Kara without hesitation.
"Lunatic! You're so uncultured!" Kara's makeup smeared, she trembled with rage.
Moira, terrified, tried to restrain Sunny. " Ignore her. Let's move."
"Mom..." Sunny blurted out, her voice cracking. The word hung heavy between them—she now knew Moira was her aunt, not her mother.
Moira sensed something was off. "Why are you crying?" she asked gently. Sunny said nothing, just followed her to a distant table.
"Don't let such people get to you," Moira soothed. "She loves stirring trouble. We won't stoop to her level."
"I need to ask you something. And I want the truth," Sunny said, gripping her cup and avoiding Moira's eyes—anyone would be anxious after discovering the woman they'd called "mom" for twenty years was actually their aunt.
"What's wrong? Did you have a fight with Leo?" Moira remained oblivious.
" I'm not your biological daughter, am I?" Sunny's eyes welled up as she gathered her courage to speak.
Moira froze, her voice trembling. " What are you saying? Of course you are!"
"Don't lie to me. I know the truth."
"What do you know?" Moira's face drained of color. "When did you find out?"
"Someone told me that you're my aunt." Sunny lifted her head, striving for calm. "Olivia is my real mother. What's the real story?"