?Chapter 1228:


    “Please, Miss Jones,” one of the elders begged. “If you don’t ept me, I won’t straighten up!”


    The other two followed suit.


    They thought if they proved how sincere they were, maybe she’d change her mind.


    But to Christina, it felt like they were just trying to guilt-trip her into saying yes. And she hated that kind of thing.


    Her expression darkened.


    “I already said no,” she said, her voice like ice. “You can freeze yourselves there all day if you want, but I’m not changing my mind. Give it up.”


    She hadn’t wanted to embarrass them, but they were forcing her hand—and she wasn’t about to let herself be manipted.


    Seeing they still had no ns to give up, Christina added sharply, “Stay there if you want. My answer’s the same either way.”


    Then she turned to the rest of the group. “Alright, let’s get started. I’ll show you how to properly restore the murals.”


    Immediately, everyone else gathered around her, eager to learn.


    As for the three stubborn elders, they stayed bowing. The mayor tried to talk some sense into them but eventually gave up.


    Outside the vi gates, Davina stood frozen in front of the wrought-iron entrance, staring up at the house.


    Something ached deep inside—this ce had changed so much over the years she hardly recognized it.


    It used to belong to the Morris family—now, it was all Murrays.


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    “Hey, who’re you looking for? Don’t just stand there blocking the entrance! You’re holding up traffic,” a security guard snapped, sharp and annoyed.


    Davina’s voice was sharp, steady. “I’m here to see Terence Murray.”


    The guard scoffed. “How dare you disrespect Mr. Murray!”


    “Tell him I’m Davina Morris and I’m back!” She didn’t flinch.


    The guard bristled, ready to snap back, but her fearless stare made him falter.


    How could a young girl be so intimidating?


    She sounded like she really knew Terence. Maybe she was one of those women carrying Terence’s illegitimate kids, here to im something.


    “You know Mr. Murray?” he asked, eyeing her up and down with a hint of obscenity.


    Davina’s jaw tightened. “Yeah. I’m his daughter.”


    She hated the words, hated the bloodline tying her to Terence more than anything.


    The guardughed, sneering. “So you’re here to put on a show? Yourst name isn’t even Murray. You’re just some nobody from nowhere—no way you’re his daughter.”


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