Chapter 292: The welcome party

Words : 1188 Updated : Oct 7th, 2025

Chapter 292: The welcome party The sun had barely sunk below the horizon when guests began streaming through the gates of the Granet mansion. The evening air buzzed with laughter, clinking glasses, and familiar voices echoing in the hall. Margaret was in her element. She moved through the room like a seasoned hostess, her smile broad, her eyes lit up with joy. She seemed full of life as she chatted with old friends and relatives. "Margaret, you haven’t changed a bit," one woman said, holding her hands. "Still absolutely stunning." Margaret chuckled, brushing off the compliment. "You are too kind," she said, though the sparkle in her eyes said she didn’t mind hearing it. "And where is your daughter?" someone else chimed in eagerly. "We have been dying to meet her. She must be as elegant and beautiful as you." "She is almost ready," Margaret replied. "She’ll be here soon. But for now, enjoy the drinks." She motioned to a nearby waiter, who stepped in with a silver tray of champagne flutes and cocktails. At the far end of the room, Oliver stood apart from the chatter. Nathan was at his side, caught in light conversation with the city’s most prominent businessmen. But Oliver wasn’t speaking much. He smiled politely, nodded when expected, but his mind was elsewhere. He was sweating under the collar, though the room was cool. On the outside, he looked calm, dignified, and even. But inside, a storm brewed. He was surrounded by people who respected him, who had trusted him for years. But after tonight, everything would be changed. He was about to confess to something that would destroy his image, his career. The people who once admired him would soon see him in a different light, judging him, condemning him for his past cruelty. But he knew he had to reveal the truth about what had happened and how the family’s daughter had been lost. It was the only way to make things right with her and the only path to redemption. "Oliver, when will we see your daughter?" one of the guests asked cheerfully, drawing him out of his trance. He straightened and forced a half-smile. "Nathan," he said, turning to his son. "Go get Anne. It’s time." "Yes, Dad." Nathan nodded and made his way toward the grand staircase. Across the hall, Megan, wearing a waitress’s uniform, with a tray in her hands, blended in with the catering staff, vengeance burning in her chest.View the correct content at Her target was Anne, and her intention was clear. She was waiting, watching for the right moment to strike, to kill Anne. She could complete her mission anyhow. Even if it meant spending the rest of her life in prison, she wouldn’t regret it. She kept to the shadows, her eyes following Nathan. Megan’s grip on the tray tightened. "Anne..." she muttered under her breath. "You stole what should have been mine. This family. Their love. The money, the house, the life. Everything should be mine. I warned you to stay away, but you didn’t listen. You never listened." Hatred twisted her face as she saw Nathan disappear into the upstairs room, the one that once belonged to her before Anne claimed it all. Her eyes blazed. Her lips curled into a snarl. "That was my room," she hissed. "You took everything. But tonight, it ends." Just then, another waitress brushed past her, scowling. "Why are you just standing there? The hall is packed—go serve the guests already." Megan turned slowly, her glare sharp enough to cut. Rage pulsed through her. "Don’t tell me what to do," she snapped. "If you are so eager, serve them yourself." With that, she shoved the tray into the woman’s chest and stormed off, eyes burning with a single purpose. "Uh..." The waitress opened her mouth to snap back, but Megan was already gone, vanishing into the crowd before she could say a word. Left standing there, the woman scowled and muttered under her breath, "What’s her problem? Acting like she owns the place..." But then something nagged at her. "Wait a second..." A flicker of doubt crossed her mind. "I don’t remember seeing her before. Is she a new member of our crew?" Before she could dwell on it, the event planner stormed over, clipboard in hand and face tight with frustration. "What are you standing around for?" she barked. "There are guests without drinks. Move." Snapped out of her thoughts, the waitress quickly nodded and rushed off to the bar, the strange encounter with Megan already slipping from her mind in the chaos of the busy evening. Dimitri walked over to Oliver, offering a faint but sincere smile. "Congratulations, Oliver," he said. "You finally saw the truth and accepted your daughter. That takes courage." Oliver gave a tired nod. "Thank you for coming. Honestly, I wasn’t sure you would. I reached out to Gabriel, but he flat-out refused. He is still furious with me." He looked down, shame pressing heavily on his shoulders. "But I was misled too for so many years." The guilt in his eyes was unmistakable, and his voice carried the weight of regret. Still, he forced a small smile. "You are here—it means more than you know." "I had to come," Dimitri said gently. "Anne is part of my family now, my granddaughter-in-law. There is no way I’d miss a moment like this." Oliver nodded, his expression softening. "I hope this marks a new beginning. Maybe our families can grow closer from here." "We will," Dimitri replied, patting his shoulder. "We are moving in the right direction." At the entrance, Paule and Patricia finally stepped inside. As they took in the glittering crowd and lavish surroundings, their pace slowed. Paule went pale. His instinct was to turn around and walk right back out the door. But Patricia grabbed his arm firmly, holding him in place. She was nervous, too, but at the same time, she was excited. "Paule, look at that chandelier," she whispered, her eyes wide with wonder. "It’s massive. And that sculpture in the corner... those paintings... This place is dripping with money." She kept glancing around, mesmerized. Paule shot her a sharp look. "Will you stop gawking? We are here for Anne." His legs shook slightly. The longer he stood there, the more out of place he felt. His anxiety was bubbling under the surface. Patricia crossed her arms, pouting. "Why are you acting like this? Anne said we are the most important guests tonight. She is going to thank us, introduce us to everyone, and tell them how we took her in and saved her. You should be holding your head high, not shrinking into yourself." Then she lifted her chin defiantly. "We are just as good as anyone in this room." Paule let out a breath, clearly uneasy. He didn’t argue. What was the point? He wouldn’t win. As he looked around at the high-society guests in tailored suits and elegant gowns, he felt like a misfit in the wrong story. "Look over there," Patricia said suddenly, tugging his sleeve. "Anne is here."

Chapter 292: The welcome party

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