In previous years, George and Teresa had been embarrassed by the original Yvonne and considered her unpresentable. The grand birthday celebration had always been for Queena alone. The real Yvonne was forced to hide in a corner, watching with envy as Queena, dressed like a princess, charmed their parents and was introduced to guests, basking in everyone''s praise.


    But now, things were different. The scandal of Queena''s true parentage wasmon knowledge, and her social standing had plummeted. In contrast, Yvonne had be a household name in the entertainment industry, a rising star.


    So, for the first time, Yvonne was granted the privilege of sharing the birthday celebration.


    "Yvonne, are you awake? Mom''sing in." After a few perfunctory knocks, Teresa pushed the door open, followed by several maids. They wheeled in a clothing rackden with beautiful gowns-some from high-end designers, others custom-made. It was clear Teresa had put in some effort.


    "Yvonne, take a look and see which one you like," Teresa said with a smile. "Once you''ve chosen your dress, I''ll help you pick out the right jewelry to match."


    Yvonne sat on the edge of her bed, her sharp eyes scanning the dresses on the rack beforending on Teresa. "Hasn''t Queena chosen yet?"


    Teresa''s smile faltered for a second. "Queena was up early. She''s already picked hers."


    "Oh," Yvonne said, a sarcastic smirk ying on her lips. "So these are her leftovers."


    Teresa''s expression turned awkward and annoyed. She forced another smile and urged, "Yvonne, please just pick a dress. We still have to choose jewelry and do your makeup. If we dy any longer, the guests will start arriving."


    Yvonne couldn''t be bothered to argue. She casually selected a white princess-style dress from the rack. Favoritism was a strange thing. Even though Queena wasn''t her biological daughter and had caused endless trouble, Teresa still doted on her. It seemed she and Teresa, both the original Yvonne and her current self, simplycked that mother-daughter connection. There was no point in forcing it.


    Yvonne changed into the dress and applied light makeup. She left her long, dark hair flowing down her back, opting for no hair essories, only a simple but valuable emerald ne.


    By the time she was ready and went downstairs, the guests had already begun to arrive.


    In the grand hall, George and Teresa were greeting their guests with Queena by their side. She was ying the part of the perfect dutiful daughter, chatting andughing with the other society wives and debutantes.


    “Queena is just getting more beautiful every year."


    "She has the grace of a truedy. Mrs. Spencer, you''ve raised her so well."


    "If my daughter were half as charming as Queena, I''d be thrilled."


    Thepliments flowed freely from the surrounding wives.


    Teresa held Queena''s hand, her face


    a with maternal pride. "Omet You all too kind. You''ll make her


    blush content belongs swhovels


    "Mom," Queena whined yfully, a picture of modesty.


    "Where''s Yvonne? I haven''t seen her,” Mrs. Young asked, her question cutting through the ttery.


    “Oh, she''s still in her room, getting ready,” Teresa replied with a sigh. “That girl is just soid-back."


    She had barely finished speaking


    when Rachel, Mrs. Young''s


    daughter waved herarm tomet


    the


    staircase. “Yvonne!"


    All eyes turned to see Yvonne descending the grand wooden staircase, her movements graceful and poised.