At that, Alessia suddenly let out a softugh, as if she’d just remembered


    something delightful.


    <b>“</b>If this were before, you would’ve probably dragged me straight to sign the adoption papers, and then marched with me to the Tate house to raise hell, right? But you don’t need to worry–my biological parents are actually wonderful people. Now I’ve got three older brothers and a little brother, and believe me, they’re way more warm and friendly than those two troublemakers from the Tate family ever were.”


    She squeezed Jade’s hand and chatted gently about everything that had happenedtely. The conversation continued in quiet tones until the butler knocked at the door.


    “Miss Morton, dinner is ready.”


    “Thank you.” Alessia gave a soft reply, tucked the nket around Jade–who still showed no reaction–and quietly left the room.


    Meanwhile, at the airport, the arrivals hall began to empty as passengers trickled out from the gate. Only when the crowd had thinned did a tall man and a young boy appear, trailed by two bodyguards hauling their luggage.


    “Mr. Max, Mr. York.” Butler Dawson moved forward to greet them.


    “Where’s my father?” Max’s gaze was cool, his features sharp andposed. His straight nose was marked by a tiny mole at the tip, lending an unexpected touch of allure. He tugged at his tie, his expression edged with impatience.


    “He’s in the banquet hall with Miss Ileana, going over the final details,” Dawson replied.


    “Miss Ileana?” Max shot the butler a pointed look. Dawson dropped his eyes and said nothing more.


    “Where’s my dog?” York Tate clearly had no interest in their conversation. His big eyes roved restlessly, searching for hispanion.


    York’s round cheeks still clung to thest traces of baby fat, and his bright, mischievous eyes made it seem as if he was about to pull a prank at any moment. Despite being dressed in a custom–made suit, he radiated the heedless energy of a pampered child, his voice brimming with bravado and mischief.


    “In the car, Master York,” Dawson replied.


    <b>1/2 </b>


    <b>14:43 </b>


    <b>Chapter </b>70


    Without another word, York bolted outside. Dawson, well–ustomed <b>to </b>his <b>antics</b><b>, </b>gestured for one of the bodyguards to follow. The two brothers hadn’t exchanged <b>a </b>single word; if anything, they seemed more distant than strangers.


    By the time Max made it to the car, York and his German Shepherd had already imed the back seat, ying as if nothing else in the world existed.


    “Master Max…” Dawson hesitated, hoping Max would take the front seat. But Max beat him to it.


    He opened the rear door without saying a word. The Shepherd, which had just been ying enthusiastically with York, fell silent and shrank low, refusing to move no matter how York tried to coax him.


    “York, I’ll give you three seconds. If you don’t get your dog settled, both of you can walk home,” Max said calmly, his tone leaving no room for argument.


    York, after all, was only seven. He hurriedly patted the Shepherd, which immediately curled up at his feet, now the picture of obedience. Ignoring York’s wounded re,


    Max slid into the car.


    Dawson exhaled in relief, only now realizing his shirt was damp with sweat. He closed the door, climbed into the front, and signaled the driver to head for the


    venue.


    In the grand hall, Ileana was in the dressing room, twirling before the mirror in her new gown. She lifted the hem and spun, her face aglow with satisfaction. The dress was long, and topensate for her height, she wore four–inch heels that made her legs look impossibly long.


    Stylists bustled around her, making adjustments, while the makeup artist added the final touches. Everyone was focused on her, fussing and ttering.


    Ileana’s lips curled into a smile she couldn’t quite hide. She loved being the center of attention, surrounded by admiration and praise.


    <b><i>212 </i></b>