"Yeah, yeah, I know," Yvonne replied, a little reluctantly.


    Bet gently pulled her into his arms, his gaze soft and adoring. "You must have been bored out of your mind this past month. How about I take you out to lift your spirits?"


    "Where are we going?" Yvonne asked, her eyes lighting up.


    "To a party at the Scott family''s estate," Bet said.


    "Which Scott family?" Yvonne asked, puzzled.


    "Cynthia has returned from overseas, so her family is throwing a party to wee her back,” Bet exined, his long fingers toying with a strand of her soft hair. "The Thompson family received an invitation. It''s a party for the younger generation, so it would be inappropriate for the elders to attend. Noah and Cynthia used to be a couple, and now that he''s married with a child, it would be awkward for him to go to his ex-girlfriend''s party. That leaves us."


    “It''s been years since I''ve seen Cynthia," Yvonne said with a nod.


    The party was that evening.


    Bet and Yvonne left in the afternoon, first stopping at a high-end couture shop to select their outfits.


    The store manager personally attended to them, showcasing a wide array of designer gowns, each one exquisitely crafted.


    Yvonne chose a simple, elegant white dress, opting for a more understated look, paired with a set ofvender jade jewelry.


    "What do you think? Is this okay?" Yvonne asked, twirling in front of Bet after changing and having her makeup done.


    "Perfect," Bet said, his voice a low, warm chuckle, his eyes filled with undisguised admiration.


    “Let''s go, we don''t want to bete,” Bet said, handing his ck card to the manager. After paying, he took Yvonne''s hand and they left.


    The Scott family''s party was held at their ancestral estate.


    Though not one of Istra''s four great families, the Scotts were a family of


    considerable legacy and prestige—a true academic dynasty.


    Old Mr. Scott was a renowned schr, Cynthia Scott''s parents were both professors


    at Istra University, and her uncle was a high-ranking official in the Ministry of Education.


    Cynthia herself was a graduate of a prestigious university, a celebrated author and screenwriter who had been living abroad for the past few years and had only recently returned to settle down.


    Yvonne walked into the Scott residence on Bet''s arm.


    The Scotts lived in an old mansion, where even the antique furniture exuded a heavy sense of history.


    The oil paintings on the walls, the


    vintage record yer in the living


    and the antique clock were all


    room, a


    priceless heirlooms nearly


    impossible to find on the market.


    In all of Istra, besides the Thompson family, the Scotts possessed the most


    extensive collection of antiques.


    Yvonne had been to the Scott estate before.


    When Cynthia was still Noah''s girlfriend, Yvonne often came over with Noah and Bet to visit.


    Every time, Yvonne found herself captivated by the paintings on the walls.


    Her favorite was "Lavender Grove,” a masterpiece by a medieval artist, a priceless work of art.


    Cynthia, noticing Yvonne''s


    fascination, had smilingly told her that when she and Bet got maried. she would give them the painting as a wedding gift.


    But then, Cynthia and Noah broke up. And Yvonne died.


    "Lavender Grove" had remained hanging there, a silent witness.


    Yvonne stopped in front of the painting, gazing up at the eternally blooming purplevender, a sense of mncholy washing over her.


    "Do you still love this painting? I can talk to her about buying it," Bet said softly, standing beside her.


    Yvonne shook her head. "Just because you love something doesn''t mean you have to own it. It looks good right where it is."


    "Alright,” Bet nodded, not pressing the issue. Instead, he said, "I''m going upstairs to greet Mr. Scott Sr. Do you want toe with me?"


    "You go on your own," Yvonne said, shaking her head like a rattle drum.