"But I can’t let people look down on Jas," Ophelia Wilson stood up for Jas Reed.
Jas truly loves her, and it has nothing to do with her status.
Why did Grandpa have to speak about Jas like that?
"Oh, my silly child." Chaya Davis was nearly frantic. Is she really going to give up the powerful backing of the Wilson Clan for a man?
She really didn’t understand what Ophelia Wilson was thinking.
Having a daughter and having a son-in-law are two different concepts.
At least asking her own daughter for money is justified, but asking her son-in-law... it would be a bit more complicated.
Of course, these thoughts were not sothing Chaya Davis would bluntly express, but she anxiously said, "Jas is going to negotiate a partnership with the Peace Group, and if you leave the Wilson Clan now, what will you have to support him with?" Chaya asked.
Ophelia Wilson pursed her lips, "I believe Jas wouldn’t mind any of this, he loves for who I am."
"Of course, I know Jas’s feelings for you, but don’t you want to help him out?" Chaya secretly ridiculed Ophelia’s naivety while worriedly asking.
After hearing Chaya’s words, Ophelia Wilson found herself suddenly enlightened, yes, she couldn’t leave the Wilson Clan, she still needed to help Jas reach his deal with the Peace Group.
"I know what to do now." Ophelia Wilson was quite adept at making choices, and once she understood, she was determined.
The Wilson Clan was under the rule of Old Mrs. Wilson, and Mason Wilson, without the Wilson Clan, was nothing.
Rely on Sophie Wilson?
Wasn’t Sophie relying on Charles Seymour too?
What did Charles have anyway?
How long could Old Mr. Seymour’s protection last for him?
Sooner or later, the Seymour Family would belong to Jas, which ant it would be hers too.
Ophelia Wilson felt utterly delighted at the thought of always stepping on Sophie’s head.
As for the "little poor thing," Sophie woke up from her nap, lounged in bed for a bit, and then went downstairs to find sothing to eat.
In the kitchen, Sophie picked up assorted pastries, cookies, and snacks prepared by the chef, filling up a plate, and also grabbed a large glass of fresh fruit juice.
"Miss Wilson, it’s best not to eat too many snacks," the housekeeper advised, "or it’ll spoil your dinner."
The key point was that Mr. Seymour was clear about not letting Miss Sophie overeat, as it might affect her als.
Sophie pursed her lips, "It won’t spoil it." She then lowered her voice and said, "My Mr. Seymour is back, right?"
The housekeeper looked at Sophie in surprise; how did she know?
Mr. Seymour had been in the study the entire ti.
The housekeeper’s astonished expression made Sophie chuckle, and she said proudly, "What’s so surprising about that? He’s my man—whether he’s here or not, I can sense it."
The housekeeper really didn’t know what expression to wear anymore.
The treatnt at Mr. Seymour’s house was really great, but being constantly fed these mouthfuls of dog food was truly a bit much to handle!
Just as Sophie finished speaking, her head was gently but firmly tapped from behind.
Sophie cradled her head in pain, turned around, and angrily glared at the rogue who ambushed her.
The rogue completely ignored her gaze and reached out to take half the snacks she just plated, leaving behind only half. He then picked up a piece of chocolate mousse cake intending to take it away.
He looked up and saw Sophie’s pouting lips and her aggrieved, pitiful eyes fixated on his hand, and the very principled Charles Seymour... rearranged the mousse cake back on the plate.
Eating one more piece wouldn’t make much difference, hmm, let’s leave it at that.
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