Marble Estate.
Emmie Stewart returned to the Hamilton residence, carrying groceries from the supermarket. As she reached for the door, it swung open, revealing Flora Scott, dressed up for a night out.
"Whoa, you scared me half to death!" Flora exclaimed.
Seeing Emmie holding the two large bags, Flora peeked inside them with curiosity. "What did you buy? Don't tell me you snagged some second-hand stuff."
"No, these are from Marks & Spencer," Emmie said with a tight smile, moving aside to let Flora pass. Conversations with the Hamilton family always left her uneasy.
Flora raised an eyebrow. "Marks & Spencer, huh? I suppose my husband will be glad you paid him back."
Emmie wondered if Marks & Spencer was owned by Russell Hamilton, which would explain Flora's arrogant attitude.
Unhurried, Flora blocked the doorway, allowing Emmie to take in her appearance for the first time. Though Flora wasn't young, she had maintained herself well. Her dark hair cascaded in waves, and her lips, strikingly red, looked as though they had just sipped wine. Her figure remained unchanged, while her air of superiority had only intensified.
"Didn't you have a date with Martin Thomas’s son? Back already?"
"He had to cancel," Flora replied casually. Enough chit-chat; just let me leave!
"He canceled? More like he got bored with you! It's hard to believe, given your looks. Didn't your mom, Felicity Scott, ever pass on any of her tricks to you?"
Flora's disdain for Felicity Scott was deep-rooted, seeing her as a blemish in an otherwise perfect relationship, highlighting the irreparable damage within Flora’s marriage.
Emmie couldn't stand anyone badmouthing Felicity Scott. Her forced smile turned to ice as she looked at Flora. "You have no right to talk about Felicity Scott!"
"Ha!" Flora scoffed. After all, this was her house; she could say whatever she pleased. "Why not? Felicity Scott was a scheming opportunist. Why shouldn’t I talk about her?"
"Don’t assume everyone stoops to your level. If you were so flawless, why did Russell Hamilton choose my mother over you? I didn't inherit my mother’s grace, but Kairi certainly learned your scheming ways. Well done, Aunt Flora!"
Flora's comments reminded Emmie of the woman, once so loving, now lying unconscious in a hospital bed—heartbreakingly beyond Emmie’s reach.
"You... How dare you speak to me like that? Such insolence!"
Flora raised her hand, striking Emmie with a resounding slap that echoed in the yard, leaving a harsh imprint on Emmie's pale cheek—momentary satisfaction for Flora.
"Did I hit a nerve? Why are you so defensive?" Emmie stared coldly at Flora, displaying neither panic nor fear.
"What would I be defensive about? This is my home. You're nothing but a guest here."
Flora’s face twisted with malice, asserting her dominance with a pointed finger. Just then, Kairi Hamilton arrived, seeing her mother locked in a glare with Emmie. Assuming her mother was mistreated, Kairi rushed at Emmie and shoved her forcefully.
Caught off guard, Emmie stumbled, her bags flying, and their contents scattered. Kairi spotted the packaging and yelled, "Where are you taking things from our home?"
"I bought those from Marks & Spencer, you..."
Emmie's voice faded as she spotted a crimson stain seeping through lace trim, intensifying the sharp pain. Rolling up her sleeve, she discovered a cut, blood droplets stark against the green grass, like vivid blooms.
Flora and Kairi exchanged nervous glances. Kairi muttered reassurances to Flora, then sneered at Emmie, "Serves you right, messing with my mom."
"Kai, you must be tired from your day. Come in, I’ve made you some snacks," Flora said, dismissing Emmie as she beckoned her daughter inside, locking the door behind them.
Ignoring the pain, Emmie wiped dirt from her arm, closing tear-filled eyes. Tears fell onto the grass as she steadied herself and stood. Surveying the estate indifferently, she gathered her belongings and left the yard. Unclear where to go, she knew returning to the stone alley was out of the question; if Russell Hamilton discovered it, neither she nor Felicity would be left in peace. Covered in mud, Emmie settled on a bench in a nearby park, setting down her bags and rolling up her sleeve to inspect the wound. Fortunately, it wasn’t deep; she recalled slipping on a stone when Kairi had pushed her, likely causing this mess.
"Just great, what rotten luck." Had she returned a minute later, she wouldn’t have crossed paths with Flora, nor would she have gotten hurt. Should she go to the hospital?
"What rotten luck?"
A familiar voice sounded behind her. Startled, Emmie quickly pulled down her sleeve, turning to see Finley Thomas and Asher Olson standing nearby, watching her—who knows for how long.
"What brings you here?" she asked, surprised by how often she seemed to bump into Finley.
"Just passing through. Why?" he replied, stepping closer.
"No reason. Enjoy your day; I'm off."
Determined not to show them her vulnerable side, Emmie hastily grabbed her things, stood, and walked away.
Finley watched her stubborn retreat, ready to dismiss it when Asher suddenly pointed, "Look at her arm!"
"Her arm? What's so special about..." Finley started, then fell silent at the sight of red trailing down Emmie’s arm, staining her sleeve.
"What happened?" Asher pondered aloud, while Finley swiftly ran toward Emmie. Although typically uninvolved, Asher followed suit.
Startled by their sudden approach, Emmie asked warily, "Is there something you need?" Trying to act casual, she hid her arm behind her, offering a strained smile as they noticed her disheveled clothing. "Oh, I tripped, it’s nothing."
Finley fixated on her concealed arm. "Nothing? What's under that sleeve?"
"Just groceries. If there's nothing else, please move aside." Emmie’s strained smile vanished as she tried to bypass them, but Finley unexpectedly grasped her injured arm.
"Ouch!"
Emmie cried out, biting her lips to stifle the pain. Unperturbed by her protest, Finley pulled up her sleeve, revealing the long, jagged cut under the sun. Both Finley and Asher inhaled sharply, puzzled by how such a wound could come from just a stumble.
"Who did this to you?" Finley asked, shifting his gaze from her arm to her cheek, noticing faint fingerprints. "Emmie, who hit you?"
