Half-Hearted: Mr. Sinclair, Stop the Act!-Chapter 186: I Want You to Leave My Son

The lady mentioned by Nora came to the art gallery for the second time on the second day after the Lantern Festival.

She was still looking for Sienna Monroe.

Director Dawson met with her, but she remained indifferent, leaving no contact information, and didn’t even take Sienna’s business card.

She only said she wanted to meet her.

Director Dawson and Nora had no choice but to call Sienna to explain the situation.

Sienna pondered for a moment before saying, "Arrange it for the afternoon after tomorrow."

After hanging up the phone, she turned around and saw Shane Morgan standing at the door.

His elegant and aloof face held a faint smile, and his deep eyes, seasoned internationally, seemed inscrutable.

His gaze was sharp.

He walked over and said softly, "Dad’s recovering well. Go ahead with the matters at the art gallery, I’ve got things here covered."

Sienna gently raised the corners of her mouth and softly acknowledged, "Mm. Brother, when... are you going back to Valerium?"

Shane hesitated, "There’s no rush, I’ll stay until Dad fully recovers. Shall I drive you over the day after tomorrow?"

Sienna lightly shook her head, "No need, I’ll ask if Audrey is heading back to Southcroft. Her joint exhibition with Faye Irving ends on March 6th."

"Okay."

Shane responded indifferently.

On the morning of the eighteenth day of the lunar calendar, Sienna and Audrey returned to Southcroft together.

They had lunch together, discussing the details of the closing ceremony.

Around 2:30 in the afternoon, she returned to the art gallery.

Nora greeted her first, "Director, the lady has already arrived."

Sienna paused, somewhat surprised, "Wasn’t it scheduled for three?"

Nora looked helpless, "Yes. But she just arrived not long ago."

"In the meeting room?"

"In your office."

Sienna was momentarily stunned.

Then she nodded, greeted the other employees along the way, and went straight to her office.

As she pushed open the office door, her gaze immediately fell on the lady seated on the sofa.

The lady wore a light cyan dress, her hair casually pinned up.

She wore only a green jade bracelet on her wrist. As she raised and lowered her tea cup, she slowly looked up towards the sound.

As Nora had said, she was well-maintained and appeared to be not yet fifty.

Her posture was poised, back straight, her gaze conveying a mix of coolness, scrutiny, and authority.

Hmm.

Also, as Nora mentioned, this lady appeared somewhat unapproachable.

Sienna walked over, a gentle and kind smile on her face.

She introduced herself, "Hello, I am Sienna Monroe, the director of Serena Art Museum. I heard you’ve been looking for me several times, sorry for not being in Southcroft earlier. How should I address you?"

The lady set down the tea cup, gazing intently at her finely featured face.

After a while, she spoke in a clear, regretful tone, "You’re very beautiful. It’s a pity... you’re divorced."

Sienna was taken aback.

A look of slight daze crossed her face.

Divorced?

She frowned, inexplicably detecting an evaluative tone from the lady’s words, akin to appraising merchandise.

This sensation was unsettling.

And it irked her.

Her first impression of the lady sank into the mire.

The smile in her eyes gradually faded, replaced by detachment and formality, the softness in her voice now gone.

But she still asked with a trace of confusion, "Madam, could you please clarify? I don’t quite understand what you mean."

Yet the lady seemed disinclined to answer questions.

She shook her head slowly, continuing her appraisal, "As far as I know, you divorced the Sterling Family’s illegitimate son earlier this year.

Being with someone of such background shows poor judgment; you’re a bit foolish, truly unfortunate."

Those words were harsh.

But Sienna was not angry about them.

Because...

She didn’t think the lady was wrong.

She had indeed been foolish before, blind in eyes and heart.

Despite her unpleasant tone, she was now certain.

This lady wasn’t here to discuss collaboration with the art gallery.

She seemed intent on causing trouble for her.

She ceased to ask further questions.

Since the lady wouldn’t answer, asking more was futile.

She rose to pour herself a glass of warm water, waiting for the lady to continue.

"They say one takes on the color of those near them; you’ve spent many years with that illegitimate son of the Sterling Family. Unfortunately, it’s unsuitable."

The lady seemed to be talking to herself, yet also to her.

Gave Sienna an odd feeling.

But upon closer observation, the lady’s sharp features, poised demeanor, and the Hermès limited edition bag by her side seemed unremarkable.

Yet her manner of speaking indeed created unease.

Sienna sipped the warm water, about to say something appropriate, when the lady spoke again.

This time more astonishingly.

And in an imperious tone, "I hope you can leave my son."

Sienna paused, eyes wide with disbelief.

Leave her son?

She asked puzzledly, "Have you got the wrong person? I don’t know your..."

The lady slowly shook her head, answering her question for the first time, "I’m looking for the daughter of the Monroe Family, a scholarly family from Eastwood; that’s you. You’re outstanding, but also foolish, unsuitable for my son."

Sienna knitted her brows.

She seemed to have discerned the lady’s conversational pattern.

Give a compliment, then a slap.

This formless pressure made her perplexed.

Seeing her silence, the fine lines at the lady’s eyes turned into sharp weapons, falling slowly onto Sienna’s face.

Her tone was lofty, as if bestowing charity, "Are you hesitating? Not wanting to leave him? I said, you’re not suitable for him. Insisting only harms you.

If you have any requests, feel free to ask; I’ll try to fulfill them."

Sienna frowned, her eyes also cold.

She looked unflinchingly at her, her expression slightly stern, asking in a calm voice, "This seems unreasonable. May I know who your son is?"

The lady cast a glance at her, slowly uttering two words, "Sebastian Prescott."

Sienna’s pupils constricted, "Wha... what?"

Sebastian Prescott?

The lady before her, seemingly noble and poised, yet exuding indifference, authority, and sharpness, was actually Sebastian Prescott’s mother?

She never would have thought Sebastian’s mother would specifically seek her out.