Chapter 1343:


    She moved seamlessly from sweeping ideals to intimate appeals, her delivery sopelling that apuse began in scattered pockets, then built toward a crescendo.


    “The Cooper Charity Foundation carries more than half a century of wisdom in its mission,” she dered, her tone solemn. “We guarantee that every dor donated reaches those whose need is greatest.”


    Her voice filled the hall as heads nodded in agreement. Several guests dabbed their eyes with handkerchiefs.


    Then she pivoted, her demeanor sharpening. “This evening, we will auction exceptional antiques from the Cooper collection—every cent raised will serve charitable causes. Naturally, we also wee direct contributions from our guests. Your donations will be part of this enduring legacy.”


    Her gaze locked onto Maia like a missile finding its target, her words sweetly phrased yet edged with venom. “Ms. Watson, your brilliance in haute couture design, jewelry creation, and fine art has made you extraordinarily sought-after. Surely you have something in your possession that would make a magnificent auction piece. Would you do us the honor of leading by example?”


    A slight smile curved her mouth, though her eyes remained hard. “You would not decline such a meaningful request, would you?”


    The entire room turned toward Maia. Tension thickened the air until it felt difficult to breathe.


    Then Laurence—who’d been slumped in his wheelchair like a forgotten puppet—suddenly spotted Chris seated in the front row.


    Light zed back into his eyes, recognition striking like lightning. “Chris!” His voice cracked with excitement, trembling and raw. “Grandpa’s right here…e closer to me. Did you miss me, Chris? Tell me you missed me.”


    The crowd recoiled as if struck.


    Nobody had anticipated Laurence breaking his silence, much less calling out for his grandson with such raw, desperate longing.


    Hadn’t whispers circted that his health had deteriorated, rendering him virtually mute?


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    The jarring scene ignited murmurs that swept through the hall like wildfire.


    “Chris? Who’s Chris? I’ve never heard Laurence mention a grandson by that name.”


    “That can’t be right. His eldest grandson is udius—everyone knows that.”


    “Only outsiders wouldn’t know. The Cooper family has a hidden branch—a grandson from outside the marriage named Chris Cooper.”


    “The illegitimate one’s here? Where? Point him out.”


    Heads swiveled, following Laurence’s fixed stare, but found no clear answer. Instead, they watched Maia rise with deliberate grace and glide toward the stage, a tall, striking man following closely behind her.


    Laurence’s yearning consumed him now. His weathered hands mped onto the wheelchair’s armrests as he fought to stand, his voice breaking. “Chris!”


    His legs betrayed him instantly. Strength abandoned his limbs, and he teetered dangerously close to toppling from the chair.


    Kiley’s fingers tightened around the handles, irritation flickering behind herposed mask. She had orchestrated this moment to pressure Maia into making a substantial donation—not to have her grandfather derail everything with his sudden outburst.


    “Grandpa,” she whispered, leaning close so only he could hear. Her voice threaded urgency with false tenderness. “We discussed this, remember? You promised to stay quiet while we’re on stage.”


    Then her tone turned icy. “Keep this up, and you won’t see Chris at all. I’ll wheel you back to your room this instant.”


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