I stood silently beside Michael Ashworth in his opulent study, watching as he instructed his steward with calm authority. The morning light streamed through tall windows, casting long shadows across the polished hardwood floor.


    "Make the announcement in three days," Michael said, his voice firm but not unkind. "Liam Knight is to be recognized as an honored guest of the Ashworth family."


    The steward shifted ufortably. "Sir, with all due respect, isn''t this rather... hasty? We know very little about Mr. Knight''s background."


    Michael''s lips curved into a knowing smile. "Maxwell, when a tide begins to rise, the wise man doesn''t fight it—he prepares his boat." He nced at me briefly. "Mr. Knight''s star is ascending. Better to acknowledge it now than scramble to do soter."


    Maxwell nodded stiffly, clearly unconvinced but unwilling to argue further. "As you wish, sir. Will there be anything else?"


    "That will be all for now."


    After the steward departed, Michael turned to me. "Don''t mind Maxwell. He''s been with the family for thirty years—caution is in his blood."


    "I understand," I replied. "It''s his job to protect your interests."


    "And yet here I am, inviting a former nobody from Havenwood City into our inner circle." Michael''s eyes twinkled with amusement. "Life takes unexpected turns, doesn''t it, Mr. Knight?"


    "More than I ever imagined," I admitted.


    Later that morning, I found myself in the Ashworth mansion''s sprawling kitchen. Isabelle stood at the counter, her sleeves rolled up as she chopped vegetables with surprising skill. The domestic scene seemed at odds with her usual elegant demeanor.


    "I never pictured you cooking," I said, leaning against the doorframe.


    She looked up with a smile that made my heart race. "There''s a lot you don''t know about me, Liam Knight."


    I moved closer, watching her hands work deftly with the knife. "I''d like to learn."


    Her cheeks flushed slightly. "Well, for starters, I make an excellent soup. Grandfather says it rivals our chef''s."


    As I helped her prepare lunch, my gaze wandered to a small ceramic pot on the windowsill. Inside was what appeared to be a tiny, luminescent flower—its petals white as snow with a faint blue glow emanating from its center.


    "What''s that?" I asked, moving closer for a better look.


    Isabelle followed my gaze. "Oh, that''s a thousand-year snow lotus. They''re incredibly rare—this one was a gift from an herbalist who owed Grandfather a favor."


    I couldn''t hide my astonishment. "A thousand-year snow lotus? These are practically mythical in medicinal circles. They''re said to have extraordinary healing properties."


    "You know about medicinal herbs?" She sounded impressed.


    "A bit," I replied modestly, though in truth, my recently awakened knowledge identified it immediately as one of the most valuable medicinal ingredients in existence.


    Isabelle studied me for a moment, then reached for the pot. "Here, take it."


    I froze. "What?"


    "I want you to have it." She held the pot out to me.


    "Isabelle, I can''t ept this. Do you have any idea how valuable—"


    "Of course I do," she interrupted with a gentle smile. "That''s why I''m giving it to you. You''ll appreciate it more than I ever could."


    I hesitated, my hands not moving to ept her gift. "I should speak to your grandfather first. Something this valuable—"


    "It was given to me, not to the family. It''s mine to give." Her eyes softened. "Please, Liam. Consider it a token of... friendship."


    The way she said "friendship" suggested she meant something more, and my heart thundered in response. Carefully, I took the pot from her hands, our fingers brushing momentarily.


    "Thank you," I said, my voice suddenly hoarse. "I''ll treasure it."


    During lunch with Michael, I couldn''t help but mention the lotus. "Sir, Isabelle gave me something quite valuable—a thousand-year snow lotus. I wanted to make sure you were aware."


    Michael nced up from his soup, waving his hand dismissively. "A snow lotus? Ah, yes. She can give you whatever she pleases. It''s not a real treasure anyway."


    I nearly choked on my food. Not a real treasure? A millennium-old medicinal ingredient that could sell for millions was "not a real treasure" to the Ashworths? The casual disy of wealth and power stunned me into silence.


    "By the way," Michael continued, oblivious to my shock, "I think you should stay here at the residence for the time being. The guest wing has plenty of space, and it would be more convenient for everyone."


    I set down my spoon carefully. "That''s... very generous, sir."


    "It''s practical," he corrected, though his eyes were kind. "Besides, I enjoy our chess matches."


    After lunch, Isabelle found me in the garden, the lotus nt carefully ced on a stone table beside me.


    "There you are," she said brightly. "I''ve been invited to attend a gathering tonight—nothing too formal, just some friends. Would you care to join me?"


    Before I could answer, Michael''s voice rang out behind us. "An excellent idea. Mr. Knight should meet more people in our circle."


    Isabelle beamed at her grandfather. "Then it''s settled. We''ll leave at seven."


    As evening approached, I changed into one of the tailored suits that had mysteriously appeared in my new quarters—another silent gift from the Ashworths. The fabric was finer than anything I''d ever worn, even during my brief rise in Havenwood City.


    I met Isabelle in the grand foyer, momentarily stunned by her appearance. She wore a simple ck dress that somehow managed to be both elegant and devastating.


    "You clean up well, Mr. Knight," she said with a yful smile. <code ss="in-imprint-a">Help us continue by reading at the source: *.</code>


    "And you..." I swallowed hard. "Words fail me."


    Sheughed, a sound like silver bells. "That''s quite thepliment,ing from you."


    Michael descended the stairs behind her, leaning on his cane but looking stronger than he had in days. "Remember what we discussed, Mr. Knight. Tonight is about making connections, not enemies."


    I nodded solemnly. "I understand, sir."


    As we prepared to leave, a slender woman in professional attire hurried through the front door.


    "Miss Ashworth, I''ve brought the documents you requested for tomorrow''s—"


    She stopped abruptly when she saw me, her face draining of color. I felt an identical shock ripple through my body as recognition dawned.


    The woman standing before me—Isabelle''s trusted secretary—was the same person who had sneered at me in Havenwood City, who had called me "trash" and humiliated me publicly when I''d dared to enter an upscale shop.


    Our eyes locked, mutual disbelief reflecting between us. Her lips parted slightly as if to speak, but no sound emerged.


    Isabelle nced between us, confusion evident on her face. "Aurora? Is everything alright?"


    The secretary—Aurora—clutched her portfolio tighter against her chest, her knuckles white with tension. She looked like she''d seen a ghost—or perhaps, more urately, like she was seeing her past mistakes rise up to haunt her.