Effie offered a faint, unbothered smile. “Vera, right back at you,” she replied coolly.

Vera’s face turned a dangerous shade, but with so many eyes on her, she swallowed her anger and forced out a cold retort. “Don’t get too comfortable. This isn’t over.”

Effie just shrugged, her lips curving into a dismissive grin before she turned and left the guest room.

“If they want to play games, I’ll play along,” she murmured to herself, a glint of icy determination flickering in her eyes.

At that exact moment, a sleek black Rolls-Royce Phantom was gliding up the drive to Bagnold Mansion.

Lyman was back from his business trip.

He hadn’t even gone home yet-he’d come straight here.

He’d tried calling Effie earlier, but she hadn’t answered any of his calls.

Anxious, Lyman had Luther look into it, and only then discovered it was Selma’s birthday celebration-Effie had returned to the family estate.

A heaviness crept into Lyman’s chest.

Why hadn’t Effie told him about Selma’s birthday party? Weren’t they married now?

It was as if she still didn’t see herself as his wife.

Did Effie think their marriage was just some kind of joke?

The thought made his expression darken.

He instructed Luther to prepare an impressive array of gifts and headed straight for the Bagnold estate.

Luther had mentioned before that Selma, the family matriarch, had always been kind to Effie.

So Lyman naturally held the old lady in high regard.

When Lyman arrived, he strode directly into the grand hall.

The moment people saw him, the entire room fell into stunned silence.

Lyman Etheridge-the name echoed through Neo-Arcadia as one of its most influential men. And he had come to Selma Bagnold’s birthday celebration?

What kind of clout did Selma have to warrant that?

Even Selma herself was taken aback.

How had she, of all people, ever come to be connected with someone like Lyman Etheridge?

She hurriedly stood, flustered but beaming. “Mr… Mr. Etheridge, what an honor! You’re too kind to grace us with your presence!”

Lyman greeted her with polite formality. “Mrs. Bagnold, I wish you many more years of health and happiness.”

He presented her with an assortment of beautifully wrapped boxes-inside were rare and valuable health supplements, the kind reserved for only the most honored guests.

“There wasn’t much time to prepare, but I hope you’ll enjoy these,” he said with unfailing courtesy.

Selma’s hands trembled as she accepted the gifts. “Thank you! Your presence alone is the greatest gift. These are far too generous.”

“It was the least I could do,” Lyman responded, his tone measured and respectful.

Shepard, who’d only just caught sight of Lyman, practically lit up.

How often did he get the chance to meet such a powerhouse in person? Today was a stroke of extraordinary luck.

He hurried over, grinning from ear to ear. “Mr. Etheridge, it’s a real privilege to have you here—our home is truly honored! Please, have a seat, make yourself comfortable!”

Lyman nodded slightly, but his eyes swept the hall, searching for someone.

He spoke evenly. “You’re too kind, President Bagnold. I was simply passing by and wanted to wish Mrs. Bagnold a happy birthday.”

Shepard could barely contain his excitement. For a man like Lyman Etheridge to show up in person this was a once-in-a-lifetime honor. He quickly signaled the staff to bring tea and fussed over Lyman, “Mr. Etheridge, please, have some tea.”

But Lyman waved him off, his tone suddenly cold. “No need to trouble yourself. By the way-where’s Effie?”

He didn’t bother to hide the directness of his question.

Truthfully, he hadn’t just come for the party; this was also a statement to the Bagnolds.

He’d heard the stories-how Shepard had abandoned Effie and her mother. If Shepard ever dared hurt Effie again, Lyman would make sure he regretted it.

“Effie?” Shepard blinked, caught off guard, then quickly recovered. “Oh, yes, Effie was just here—I’ll have someone fetch her right away.”

Still, unease gnawed at him.

Why was Lyman Etheridge asking after Effie?

Was there something going on between them?

A faint sense of dread settled in Shepard’s gut…