Martha followed up with a smile, clearly encouraged. "Anneliese, since you''re fond of children, you and Jonathan should think about one soon. Your grandparents have been hoping for great-grandkids for years. They''d be overjoyed. And your mother-in-w still has so many heirlooms tucked away. Jonathan''s her only son—who else would inherit them if not you?"


    Elizabeth raised her cup and drank slowly, her gaze steady. She waited, confident that Anneliese would eventually respond with gratitude.


    Once that gratitude was given, it would mean the past had been quietlyid to rest.


    And as her mother-inw, Elizabeth knew that asking Anneliese to say a few conciliatory words to Jonathan afterward would be easy enough.


    Compared to social approval, a few sentences cost nothing.


    However, Anneliese''s expression did not change. Her tone stayed mild as she replied, "We don''t n on having children for the time being."


    The warmth in the room copsed instantly.


    Elizabeth''s fingers tightened around the cup, the porcin nearly cracking. Ellie shifted restlessly in Anneliese''s arms, clearly unsettled by the sudden tension.


    The child was fragile emotionally and physically. This atmosphere was thest thing she needed.


    Anneliese no longer bothered to spare Elizabeth''s dignity.


    She rose with Ellie held securely and said evenly, "Sorry, she''s getting restless. If she cries, it''ll ruin the visit for both you and Aunt Martha. I''ll take her back."


    Seeing her actually prepare to leave hit Elizabeth like a public p.


    Her connection with Martha was never close. If not for the painting she''d offered— an item her family urgently needed as leverage-Martha would never havee to smooth things over.


    If this scene got out, Elizabeth could already imagine the whispers. She would beughed out of her usual circles.


    Her temper snapped.


    She mmed her hand on the table and stood. "Anneliese. Stop."


    Ellie flinched at the sharpness of her voice.


    Anneliese immediately covered the child''s ears, her jaw tight. "Please don''t shout. You''re frightening her."


    Elizabeth''s expression darkened


    further, but Ellie was the only child of the Malone family so far-cherished and protected. Elizabeth had no intention of inviting trouble over the girl, so she swallowed her anger and stared straight at Anneliese.


    "I''ll speak inly. Jonathan is taking his anger out on the Holf family because of you. Tell him you don''t hold on to the past anymore. Have him return the contract." She continued, voice cold and controlled, "Do you know what people are saying about him? That he''s merciless-even toward his own rtives. That doesn''t help his standing."


    Then, her gaze sharpened.


    "And you? You''re divorced. Your remarriage hasn''t even happened yet, and already people say you''re driving a wedge between him and his family between mother and son. Is that really the reputation you want when you enter society again?"


    Martha quickly stood, chair scraping against the floor, trying to intervene. "Anneliese, we''re all family here. You and your mother-inw will be tied together for life. There''s nothing that can''t be eased with time."


    She spoke gently but firmly. "Jonathan is her only child. One side is his mother. The other is his wife. When you two sh, he''s the one torn apart. For his sake, shouldn''t you try to meet her halfway?"


    She softened her tone. "Your mother-inw is proud and sharp-tongued, but you''re reasonable. You know a peaceful household flourishes, don''t you?"


    Anneliese''sshes lowered briefly as she looked at Elizabeth.


    Elizabeth mistook the pause for hesitation.


    Instead, Anneliese answered calmly, "Jonathan makes his own decisions. And


    contracts aren''t family matters. I have no ce interfering."


    Everything Jonathan had done was to protect her.


    She appreciated it—deeply.


    Why would she turn around and plead with Elizabeth instead?


    That idea was absurd.