Griffith Squire noticed her expression was slightly solemn and squinted, asking lightly, "What’s the matter? Did someone invite you?"

Aurora Coldwell lifted her small face to show him the message, a fleeting dark light passed through the man’s eyes, and he nodded, saying, "Go have a look, I’ll have someone keep an eye on you."

Aurora hesitated for a moment, but still nodded, replied to Brooke Coldwell, and then went to the VIP lounge she mentioned.

Speaking of which, her relationship with this sister had never been very good. From childhood to adulthood, whatever she liked, Brooke had to snatch it away. She never really minded before, after all, being the socialite paragon of Brocade City, she always had more than Brooke, until she came of age. Then the Coldwell and Seymour families were discussing marriage alliances, dates were even set, until she had an accident.

The traces of that accident were very deliberate, one might even say the method was clumsy. Her stepmother took her and Brooke to the manor to avoid the heat. She was awakened by thick smoke during her nap, went to the door only to find it locked, the windows sealed, shouting until her throat was sore with no response. The fire burned for half an hour; by the time she was rescued, she was in a coma.

Fortunately, the fire did not start in her room, so she survived, but when she awoke, she could not speak.

Brooke visited her in the hospital, smugly saying, "Sister, do you know why you didn’t burn to death? Becoming mute, watching as what’s yours is taken bit by bit, isn’t it interesting? From now on your inheritance, fiancé, status, reputation all belong to me."

She hysterically sought her father, intending to expose the scheme of her stepmother and sister, only to be scolded. Her father looked at his now mute daughter with disgust and had her locked up for a whole month.

Later, Brooke got engaged to Benedict Seymour, her stepmother and sister continued to live in the spotlight, and she realized she was just a discarded pawn.

She has been rendered useless, and the Coldwell Family needs Brooke to marry and take over the family business to gain greater interests.

When even close kin are so indifferent and heartless, where in the world is there true affection?

Aurora knocked and entered the lounge. Inside was not Brooke, but Benedict Seymour.

Benedict was sitting on the sofa. When he saw her, he stood up joyfully, his eyes bright, and said, "Ah Qing, you came?"

The man moved forward, and Aurora instinctively took a step back.

"I just want to talk to you, don’t misunderstand," Benedict said without expression as he locked the door, his handsome face somewhat conflicted. Until now, he hadn’t decided whether to make a move against her, after all, they had grown up together as childhood sweethearts.

"Ah Qing, you’re too naïve, it’s easy for you to be deceived. That Griffith Squire is a liar, he’s mixed up in the underworld, unlike us noble scions." Benedict looked at her closely, her pristine skin as fair as jade, her brows and eyes so light like an ink painting, his heart itching unbearably, he grasped her delicate hand more and more excitedly, "He’s after the Coldwell family estate, he won’t marry you, he’s just deceiving you." 𝒻𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘸ℯ𝒷𝘯𝘰𝑣ℯ𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝘮

Aurora frowned, her almond eyes coldly staring at him, trying to withdraw her hand, only to be gripped tightly by the man, making her skin crawl.

Truly, there’s no harm without a comparison. How did she not see the truth when she was younger and liked such a man? If she could speak, she would surely make him hang his head in shame.

Betrayal, faithlessness, now seeing someone by her side protecting her, he comes to sow discord so freely, does he think she is still that ignorant little girl?

"Ah Qing, I wouldn’t mind your relationship with him, as long as you agree, I’ll immediately annul my engagement with Brooke Coldwell and marry you. We grew up together after all, haven’t you always liked me?" Benedict said completely indifferent to her reaction.

Aurora was nauseated by his words. They were engaged, but she was raised quite conservatively by her mother, caring for the Coldwell name. Benedict always tried to get close to her but was gently rebuffed every time. Back then, she wanted all beautiful memories to be saved for her wedding night. Now she thinks it’s a relief that she was conservative enough, otherwise, she would truly be disgusted.

Aurora forcefully pulled her hand back, turned around to leave, but the man grabbed her wrist, blocking the door, his face looking unpleasant as he said, "Do you really like that hoodlum Griffith Squire?"

Hoodlum? Now promoted to government advisor with a military title, having close collaborations with various countries, the military leader reviewing the surveillance video narrowed his peach blossom eyes dangerously. He called him a hoodlum? Benedict must be blind. Is there such a handsome, awe-inspiring hoodlum?

Griffith Squire saw Aurora nod, her expression somewhat pale, frightened by that man, both stunned and angry, Ah Qing liked him? Ah Qing was scared by this little brat. Griffith snorted coldly, a fierce light flashing in his eyes.

"Boss, wait a bit longer. Miss Coldwell’s language barrier should be a psychological disorder; perhaps in a critical moment, the inner horror might make her speak," Cornelius Turner, also watching the surveillance video, grabbed Griffith Squire, whispering, "Boss, don’t you want Miss Coldwell to be able to speak?"

Aurora’s language barrier had been examined by many doctors, all saying her vocal cords were intact, almost without issue. The only explanation was trauma from the fire, possibly compounded by the coldness of close kin forcing her into silence. Doctors recommended psychological consultation, ideally recreating the scene to aid treatment.

Griffith always knew this method of treatment but couldn’t bring himself to let her go through it again, fearing her trauma would worsen.

Griffith’s expression was stormy, the handsome face could drip water. Any man could see what Benedict Seymour intended to do. All the hotel surveillance was in his hands. His men handling these hedonistic heirs was no different than slaughtering a chicken.

The Seymour family believes naively that Brocade City is as it once was? Does Griffith Squire wage unprepared battles?

Kick the door down now to castrate the boy, or wait and see if Aurora’s language barrier can be cured?

In the lounge, Benedict Seymour, who had said so much, suddenly darkened his expression when hearing Aurora liked Griffith Squire, angrily demanding, "How is he any better than me? In Brocade City, which man has a better family background or looks than me? Why do all of you prefer that hoodlum?"

Aurora’s wrist was painfully gripped, her face slightly pale. She thought Benedict was probably out of his mind. Despite his prominent family background, looks, and status among the top few in Brocade City, none had seen better.

She only now realized her true feelings, having come to know someone as protective, loyal, and responsible as Griffith Squire. In comparison, Benedict was nothing more than a spoiled child.