NovelEnglishThe brothers gazed at the photo he'd sent with a touch of envy. How great it would be if their little sis could send them something
like that?
But they couldn't bear the thought of her toiling away at her fashion designs—it was just too much hard work. And they really
didn't want her splurging on them.
Hans quipped, [What kind of sweet talk did you use to con our sis?]
Chasel chimed in, [You actually got her to foot the bill?]
Clark teased, [Finally appreciating our little sis, huh?]
David reminisced with a chuckle, [Man, Bella and | even rocked the skicks back in the day!]
Sean could sense a whiff of sour grapes in their words, and it only lifted his spirits further. He pulled a jacket out of the bag and
slipped it on right there, then turned to Steward, "Looks sharp, doesn't it?"
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Steward couldn't help but smile at Sean's obvious delight. Clearly, this garment was either picked out or gifted by Ms. Bella.
"Sean, that jacket fits you like it was tailor-made. You look like a whole new man. | mean, it's a serious upgrade from your usual
gear. Ms. Bella's designs, they just have that edge."
It was true. Sean looked less like a rogue and more like the dashing, grounded man he could be.
"It's killer, seriously sharp!" Steward praised genuinely, somewhat surprised to see this side of Sean that usually lay hidden.
Sean's grin broadened, "Of course, you know who designed it, who gave it!" He affectionately patted Arabella's head, "Bella, from
now on, you're in charge of my wardrobe every season!"
He planned to follow Romeo's lead and give her a no-limit credit card—ostensibly to buy clothes, but really so she could indulge in
whatever her heart desired.
"Sure thing," Arabella beamed, her gaze softening.
Elsewhere.
In the dimly lit basement, Serena struggled to pry her eyelids open, noting the darkness outside before her strength failed her, and
she shut them again. After a moment, she barely managed to reopen her eyes.
She was exhausted, her body felt drained, and she was left with nothing but a shell.
Dizzy, parched, she longed for water.
Waking up in the afternoon, she realized she was lying in a damp patch—residue from the night before when Sean had ordered
someone to douse her with icy water from the fountain. Most of it had dried.
She never imagined she'd lie on the cold ground for so long, nor did she anticipate that this ther family would truly turn their
backs on her, indifferent to her fate.
All afternoon, the instinct to survive drove her to crawl to the door, weakly banging and croaking out, "Water, | need water."
But no one paid her any mind.
She didn't know how long she called out, her mouth so dry it felt like it might burst into flames, her throat scorching. She didn't
recall when she passed out, and upon waking, there was still no one to offer a sip of water or even a glance.
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Despairing tears trickled down her cheeks, leaving streaks.
Perhaps due to dehydration, the tears were scant, and after a couple of lines, no more would come.
She was so thirsty, longing for a drink.
She didn't want to die here.
Now she stared at the closed door. Just beyond it, an elevator ride would take her to the ground floor living room, where perhaps
her parents, her brother, were sitting right then.
They used to spend ttogether in the living room, laughing and joking.
Those days were so sweet.
But now, things had changed.
She didn't even have the strength to rise and knock. The door was just a few steps away, yet it felt as distant as a century.
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