?Chapter 1682:


    Sandra quickly realized she’d made a mistake by allowing her mother to attend.


    Still, she didn’t see it as disastrous. Surely, people would admire her for it—for not cutting ties with her own mother after stepping into high society. To her, it showed good character.


    Meanwhile, Giselle’s expression hardened as she watched Keiraughing with her friends, proudly introducing Sandra as her daughter.


    Rage red in Giselle’s chest. She turned sharply toward Shepard, her voice low and biting. “Good job,” she hissed sarcastically, barely holding back her anger.


    She wanted to leave right away, but she knew that would only make her appear petty and ill-tempered.


    She remained where she was, seething.


    Sandra went through the motions—making her wish, blowing out the candles, and cutting the cake while the crowd pped politely. The mood stayed t. Every smile felt forced, every cheer hollow. Guests picked at their slices of cake, took a single bite, and set their tes aside, muttering that they didn’t eat sweets.


    The emcee, ever the professional, smoothly kept the event going despite the tension.


    No one even nced at the desserts or drinks now. People starteding up with reasons to leave.


    Sandra knew then—the night was ruined. She escaped to the bathroom, her chest tight, and there, she overheard some murmurs.


    “I bet Sandra handled this whole thing herself. Those desserts? Tasteless and cheap. One bite, and I almost wanted to puke!”


    “I shouldn’t have bothered toe. Ma told me she wasn’ting before—said Sandra’s irrelevant in the Harper family. I should’ve taken her advice.”


    The cruel words echoed in Sandra’s mind like thunder. It hit her all at once—no matter how much she tried, she would always be the unwanted one, the Harper family member in name only, an outsider in the very circle she longed to belong to.


    When she finally stepped out of the bathroom, her eyes still stung. Two women emerged from the opposite stalls at the same time—the same pair who had ttered her online just days ago. They turned out to be the ones who had just talked bad about her.


    Their eyes widened the moment they saw Sandra. Unease shed across their faces; they were unsure whether Sandra had heard their words earlier or not.


    Sandra stood there, waiting. She thought that maybe they would exin themselves. Maybe they’d at least apologize.


    But their unease vanished as swiftly as it appeared, reced by something colder—smug amusement.


    “Miss Harper, we need to head out—something came up with the family,” one of them said, sharing a look. Their mocking smiles felt almost like provocation.


    They walked away without a backward nce.


    Fury burned inside Sandra, and tears gathered in her eyes.


    The night had turned into a disaster. She had nned this birthday party to draw attention to her luxury fashion line, yet no one seemed to take her work seriously. How could she expect anyone to order custom pieces now?


    Was she really that bad?


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