?Chapter 1675:


    “There. I’ve transferred another twenty million to you. Is that enough?”


    Sandra’s heart sank. For a fleeting second, she had hoped he might transfer a hundred million. But she got another twenty million.


    She was upset but didn’t let it show. Asking for more might push her luck too far, and she knew how quickly their goodwill could vanish. If she angered them, they might not give her anything next time.


    She epted the transfer and forced a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Thanks, Dad. This should be enough.”


    By her own estimate, a single million would have easily covered the party expenses. Still, she wanted more.


    Dinner came and went, but no one else sent her anything. Sandra’s resentment toward the Harpers only deepened.


    Later that night, as everyone prepared for bed, Giselle muttered to Shepard, “You’ve given Sandra so much money again. You didn’t even get my permission for that.”


    Shepard sighed, conflicted. “It’s just spending money, and it wasn’t that much. For Brenna’s birthday, I’d give her at least two hundred million. Forty million for Sandra isn’t excessive.”


    Giselle snapped, her eyes shing with anger, “Sandra is just your illegitimate daughter. I can barely stand the sight of that girl, yet you keep throwing money at her. Did you even notice her expression earlier? She looked as though what you gave her wasn’t nearly enough. She’s been living here for only a few months, and look how much we’ve already handed her. I’m telling you, Shepard, don’t give her any more money.”


    “All right, all right,” Shepard agreed without hesitation. But the truth was, he had no intention of stopping. He decided he would just give Sandra money in secret from now on.


    After all, she was his daughter. No matter what others thought, he couldn’t bring himself to let her go without. Even a small amount was better than letting her feel forgotten.


    . is your storytelling hub


    Later that night, Brenna was just about to go to bed when a soft knock came at her door. She opened it. Sandra stood there, phone in hand.


    “Help review this invitation I’ve designed,” she said, holding out the screen. “I n to invite Shirie’s young upper ss to my birthday party, and I’ve already prepared a guest list. You can check that for me as well.”


    Brenna took the phone and looked at the invitation Sandra had made. The design was in, and itcked the polish she was used to seeing from professional event nners. It wasn’t even better than the restaurant’s custom invitations.


    “Actually,” Brenna said after a pause, choosing her words carefully, “the restaurant offers beautiful invitations. And since your birthday’sing up soon, there might not be enough time to personalize one.”


    The meaning behind those words was clear enough to Sandra. Brenna thought her work wasn’t good. She had spent hours on that design, choosing colors and fonts she thought showed elegance.


    “All right,” Sandra said atst. “I’ll go with the restaurant’s invitations, then. Now, help me review the guest list.”


    Brenna’s gaze swept over the guest list, which epassed nearly every young socialite in Shirie.


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