“Please, Uncle Miguel.” Just then, Wren’s voice echoed from the living room. “Sirs, Miss, dinner is ready.” Miguel walked toward the dining room. “Go ahead and eat first. I won’t bring it up with her now, so you don’t have to worry.” “Thanks, Uncle Miguel!” Helen said, recalling that he had just mentioned Caroline’s fiancé. Her curiosity got the better of her. “Uncle Miguel, who is Aunt Caroline engaged to? I’ve never heard anything about him.” Once the three of them settled at the dining table, Miguel finally responded, “He’s the heir of the Graysons. The engagement was arranged when Caroline was still a child. We never talked about it while she was growing up, so it’s understandable that you wouldn’t know.” Helen paused, running the name through her mind. She didn’t recall any Graysons living nearby. Unless it was that Grayson. But that seemed unlikely. The Graysons were incredibly wealthy and influential, while the Somertons, though well-off, were nowhere near their level. She struggled to believe the two families could be linked in any way. Shaking off the thought, Helen turned to Miguel and asked, “Which Grayson are you talking about, Uncle Miguel?” Liam chimed in. “There aren’t many Graysons in Kingville. It’s the ones who own Skybound Properties.” Helen froze. The Graysons were one of the most powerful families in Kingville, and many women dreamed of marrying into their wealth and status—only to fail. Yet Caroline had secured such a marriage without doing anything. Suppressing the jealousy rising within her, Helen forced a smile. “Aunt Caroline is so fortunate. But I’m curious—how did our family end up connected to such a prestigious family?” After all, families of that status typically prioritized equal social standing in marriages. How could they be interested in a small and humble family like the Somertons? Miguel explained, “Your grandmother and Mrs. Grayson have been friends since childhood. When Caroline was born, Mrs. Grayson visited, and not long after, they arranged the engagement.” Helen squinted slightly, realizing that it was her damn grandmother’s doing. When she joined the Somertons, she followed her mother Alaina’s advice and tried to win her grandmother’s favor. However, her grandmother showed affection only to Caroline and treated her indifferently. She even went as far as hitting her just for Caroline’s sake. Still, in the end, she had gotten her revenge and angered her grandmother to death, so it wasn’t a complete loss. As her thoughts wandered, Liam’s voice pulled her back. “It’s good that Caroline is marrying into an influential family, but she lacks grace. I worry she’ll bring shame to our name. If Helen had returned to the Somertons sooner, perhaps she could have taken this engagement instead. She’s the only one truly worthy of the Graysons.” Wren, carrying dishes out of the kitchen, nodded in agreement. “Mr. Liam, Ms. Caroline hasn’t even met her fiancé yet. If you want to replace her, it’s not too late.” Helen couldn’t help but smile when she heard that. The Somertons didn’t care for Caroline. Perhaps she truly had a chance to take Caroline’s place and marry into the Grayson family. It would make her a true socialite. As Helen envisioned herself as the future hostess of the Graysons, Miguel’s words abruptly shattered her fantasy. “Enough with the nonsense. The engagement is with Caroline—we can’t just change it on a whim. Even if we wanted to, the Graysons might not agree. As for Helen, we’ll find a decent family for her in the future. It may not be as prestigious, but it should be a good match after careful selection.” “Uncle Miguel is right. How could I take Aunt Caroline’s marriage from her? Let’s drop the subject and eat.” Helen lowered her gaze, her mood darkening. She was clearly the better choice—she should be the one marrying into the Graysons. If the only obstacle was their refusal, then she would find a way to make them accept her instead. The conversation ended there. At the nearly empty round table, Miguel glanced at Wren. “Where’s Fabian? Is he not home yet?” Edwin and Alaina were traveling, while his fourth and fifth brothers were preoccupied with work, only returning on weekends. The house felt emptier than usual. “Mr. Fabian said he’s having dinner with friends and will be back later,” Wren replied. “I see. Alright, go get Caroline for dinner.” Following his instructions, Wren made her way to Caroline’s door, knocking with clear reluctance. “Ms. Caroline, dinner’s ready!” “Got it!” Hearing the response from inside, Wren rolled her eyes at the closed door and walked away, muttering under her breath. “Who does she think she is? She acts like she’s a wealthy lady!” Wren decided to wait and see. With Caroline’s attitude, even if she did marry into wealth, she wouldn’t last long before being kicked out. While Wren harbored her resentment, Caroline sat at her desk, flipping through her diary. To her, the current time was three years in the past. She needed to piece together her memories and recall what was about to unfold. This time, armed with the knowledge of the future, she wouldn’t let herself be used or framed again. Still full from lunch, she skipped dinner, took a shower, and went to bed early. The next morning, as she headed toward the living room, she overheard Fabian complaining. “Wren, why does the congee taste different today? And these fried ravioli—way too greasy. How are we supposed to eat this?” Wren looked embarrassed. “I’m sorry, Mr. Fabian. Ms. Caroline usually makes breakfast, and I can’t match her cooking.” She shot a glance at Caroline, who was approaching the dining table, resentment flickering in her eyes. She was convinced Caroline had deliberately handed the cooking duty over to her just to make her life harder—now she had more work and was getting criticized for it. Caroline, unfazed, sat down and started eating. Fabian turned to her. “Caroline, you used to make breakfast. Why not today?” Without looking up, she responded between bites of congee, “Didn’t feel like it. I’m tired.” Fabian frowned. “You’re overreacting. It’s just breakfast—how tiring can it be? Whatever, fine, but don’t pull these little stunts again. Wren won’t be cooking for you anymore.” Wren, standing nearby, felt a wave of satisfaction. She couldn’t control Caroline herself, but others could. Now, she wouldn’t have to cook anymore. Caroline glanced at Wren and immediately saw through her thoughts. This old hag must think she can shove the responsibility back onto me. Dream on! Caroline turned to Fabian and smiled. “You misunderstood me. I mean, I’m tired every day, so I won’t be making breakfast anymore.” He looked at her in disbelief. “Are you serious or messing with me?” “Dead serious,” she said calmly. “Not just breakfast—I won’t be cooking dinner either.” She had only learned to cook for Fabian, but those days were over.