Lauren Smith drew in a sharp breath, but had no time to dwell on her shock. With a swift movement, she darted to the door and peered out through a crack, her gaze immediately landing on the middle-aged woman at the front.

The woman’s attire was not extravagant; there was no gold or jade in her hair, only a silver hairpin with pearls. She wore an amber wide-sleeved blouse, a pleated skirt in yellowish-red, and an outer jacket in autumn-fragrance color. Her dignified face was expressionless. Yet, surrounded by several beautiful young maids, she made them look like mere green leaves by comparison. Wasn’t this Mrs. Sullivan?

Standing to her right, lightly supporting her hand, was someone Lauren Smith also recognized: the legitimate younger sister of Mrs. Foster, known in the household as Mrs. Foster the Second, the steward’s wife.

Mrs. Foster’s previously overbearing arrogance seemed to have been completely doused by a bucket of cold water. Under Mrs. Sullivan’s sharp gaze, she instinctively shrank her head, unable to utter a single word.

If even she was like this, how much more so the other servant women she had summoned? No one knew who it was whose knees buckled first, but in an instant, seven or eight people had all dropped to their knees.

At last, Mrs. Foster could no longer stand, hurriedly knelt to pay her respects, swallowed hard, and then feigned composure as she said, “Madam, I just saw that the Qingfeng Pavilion was locked up in broad daylight…”

“No need to say more.” Mrs. Sullivan’s gaze swept casually over Mrs. Foster’s bulging chest, then she said coolly, “I may not manage things much these days, but I will not tolerate anyone using my name to throw their weight around in this household. Someone, tie her up.”

At these last four words, two sturdy women emerged from behind the brightly dressed maids, seized Mrs. Foster by the arms, and with practiced efficiency, not only tied her up but also stuffed a wad of rag into her mouth.

“Along with her unruly son and daughter, twenty strokes each. When it’s done, send them to the estate in the west of the city.”

Seeing the once high-and-mighty Mrs. Foster now reduced to a pitiful state, unable even to beg for mercy, Lauren Smith thought she would feel relieved, but her heart was still in turmoil.

Especially when she saw Mrs. Sullivan glance toward Qingfeng Pavilion as she left. She knew the double doors blocked the other’s view and she shouldn’t be seen, yet she couldn’t help but shiver.

She had vaguely heard that when the old master married the eldest master’s wife, it was a marriage above their station. Mrs. Sullivan had brought with her a generous dowry, over a dozen servants, and her family’s support for the old master.

Even though nowadays Mrs. Sullivan’s family meant little to the now-powerful Old Master Sullivan, just witnessing Mrs. Sullivan’s imposing presence made her feel suffocated.

She had temporarily gotten rid of Mrs. Foster, but now Mr. Henry had provoked Mrs. Sullivan. Was it worth it?

When Ethan Reed hurried back to Hè Míng Pavilion, it was already nearly half an hour later. She was drenched in sweat, her hair disheveled, and she looked out of breath.

She glanced at Chad Sullivan with a newfound awe, a stark contrast to her previous avoidance, and walked over to him, carefully curtsying.

“Mr. Henry, Mrs. Foster’s whole family will be sent to Mrs. Sullivan’s dowry estate to farm tomorrow. As for the missing books here in Hè Míng Pavilion…”

Only then did Chad Sullivan look up, his face unconcerned as he said, “A few days ago, Grandpa told Uncle Ethan that it was time to replace some books in the study. If some are missing, so be it.”

The implication was: if no one says anything, how would Grandpa know? But you’ll have to make up for it for me…

Ethan Reed forced a smile, but inside she felt a huge sense of relief.

With Mrs. Foster’s downfall, her mother had become Mrs. Sullivan’s most trusted confidante. But who would have thought it was all because of something Mr. Henry had done?

Chapter Seven Matthew White

At dusk, when Old Master Sullivan entered Hè Míng Pavilion, he didn’t even notice that Emily Reed was missing. Instead, he immediately saw Chad Sullivan enthusiastically flipping through a book.

Although the sight of the short-armed, short-legged little fellow earnestly reading was rather comical, it reminded him that his youngest son, born after he became an official, had always loved lingering in the study since he could remember. He couldn’t help but feel a moment of nostalgia.

But The Old Master was a man of exceptional resolve, and such absent-mindedness lasted only a moment. When he saw Chad Sullivan finally notice him, put down his book, and run over to greet him as Grandpa, he smiled and nodded, then went to the back to change clothes. When he returned, he was dressed in a comfortable home robe.

Before long, the entire The Sullivan Estate household arrived one after another, filling the room to capacity.

Just looking at the dozen or so people of his own generation and the younger ones, Chad Sullivan could easily understand why others envied, resented, and even hated him.

Why would the patriarch of a family as large as Old Master Sullivan’s need to adopt a child as a grandson? Even if he feared his youngest son, Mr. Sullivan the Fourth, would have no heirs, wouldn’t it be easier to pick a grandson from among the existing ones?

Old Master Sullivan had been a widower for many years, and only when the three branches of the family gathered early each evening would Chad Sullivan see the three women who were nominally his aunts: Mrs. Sullivan, Mrs. Sullivan the Second, and Mrs. Sullivan the Third.

Old Master Sullivan, who came from humble beginnings, had married all three daughters-in-law when his official rank was low and his future uncertain, yet each had a considerable family background.