Just then, a pair of heavy red doors swung open.


    Mrs. Fitzgerald emerged, nked by two maids holding her arms, her pace unhurried and dignified.


    Penelope Dawson immediately stood up, offering a polite curtsy. "Good afternoon, Mrs. Fitzgerald. I''m Penelope Dawson, Jack Harrison''s wife, from the Harrison Group."


    She gestured to an elegantly wrapped gift box on the table. "This is a rare, centuries-old ginseng we''ve treasured in our family for nearly a decade. I heard you''ve been feeling a bit run-downtely, so I brought it especially for you to help you regain your strength."


    Mrs. Fitzgerald-Deanna-nced at the box with practiced indifference and nodded.


    A maid promptly stepped forward, collected the gift, and withdrew from the room.


    Deanna eased herself into the seat of honor with the maids'' gentle assistance. After a pause, she said, in a tone neither warm nor cold, "That''s very thoughtful of you."


    Penelope graced her with a ttering smile. "The Harrisons and the Fitzgeralds go way back. I''m not sure if you remember, but when Dorian served in the army, my husband''s grandfather was one of his most loyal men."


    Deanna took a sip of tea and fixed Penelope with a direct gaze. "Penelope, let''s not beat around the bush. What brings you here today?"


    Penelope couldn''t help but notice how immacte Deanna looked in her custom- tailored deep violet dress. Although she was nearly eighty, her careful grooming made her appear barely over sixty. Silver hair perfectly coiffed, her face radiated warmth and benevolence, but Penelope knew well that you didn''t be the matriarch of Capitolion''s most powerful family by being simple or soft.


    She lowered her voice, "To be honest, I''m here today because I''m worried your grandson might be getting taken advantage of."


    At the mention of her grandson Victor, Deanna''s usually cid eyes flickered with something sharper. "Oh?"


    Penelope pressed on, "You may not have heard, but the Fitzgerald Group just invested eight hundred million dors in the Vaughan family''s global expansion. Andtely, they even went out of their way to secure the exclusive M Boutique franchise for the Vaughans. It seems Mr. Fitzgerald has fallen under Isadora Vaughan''s spell."


    She slid a folder across the table. "This is a dossier on Isadora Vaughan. I thought you might want to know more about her."


    Deanna nced down at the file with a detached air, her voice betraying nothing but age: "You seem awfully interested in our family''s affairs."


    Penelope paled, stammering, "Oh no, not at all, I wouldn''t dare."


    Deanna''s tone cooled. "My grandson Victor has always done as he pleased. And let me be clear: for the Fitzgerald Group, eight hundred million-or even eight billion-is nothing to us."


    "Yes, of course," Penelope replied, her voice shrinking to a whisper.


    "But didn''t you arrange for someone to take downst night''s story about Mr. Fitzgerald and the Vaughans from the news?"


    Deanna''s sharp gaze sliced through Penelope like a knife.


    Penelope broke out in a cold sweat, forced toe clean. "Mrs. Fitzgerald, I didn''t mean to pry. The truth is, the Vaughans snatched the M brand from our family, so there''s some resentment. But more than that, I noticed Mr. Fitzgerald seems to care about Isadora more than just a passing fling, and considering the Fitzgeralds'' status, I simply thought you should know."


    After Penelope had left, Deanna''s wrinkled hand tipped her teacup, emptying it onto the tray with an edge of anger.


    She snapped, “This tea is tainted. How could you serve me this?"


    The housekeeper, Pattie, hurried over and bowed deeply. "I apologize, ma''am. It must have been sitting too long. The staff should have checked it. I''ll brew you a fresh pot right away."


    Soon, boiling water was poured into fine porcin, releasing the rich aroma of premium oolong.


    Deanna lifted the cup, savoring a sip. "Now, that''s what good tea should taste like."


    Pattie, well-versed in her mistress''s ways, echoed her meaning, "There are grades to everything, ma''am. Only the finest and freshest tea is worthy of your pte. Anything of lesser quality simply won''t do for tea, or for people." Deanna''s face softened into a kindly smile, but her eyes held a glint of meaning.


    "In that case," she said, her voiceyered with suggestion, "let''s invite Miss Vaughan to join us for a cup of truly first-ss tea."