Mrs. Miller beamed, her face alight with cheer. “Darling, Margaret''s just shy, that''s all. You never see a girl present when someone''sing to propose!"


    Mr. Miller chuckled at that, pping his forehead. "Oh, you''re right! What was I thinking?"


    But before he could finish, Cassius''s expression darkened, his brows knitting tight. "Propose? What proposal? Why am I thest to know about this?"


    There were only two men present—himself and Remington. Clearly, the Millers weren''t talking about Remington proposing; Margaret was in no way a match for him.


    It was obvious Mr. and Mrs. Miller were referring to Cassius as the would-be suitor.


    Cassius was exasperated, on the edge of losing his patience. When had he ever said he was here to propose?


    Both Mr. and Mrs. Miller were taken aback.


    "If you''re not here to propose, then what''s all this about?" Mr. Miller asked, confused.


    If this wasn''t about a proposal, then why drag Remington here at all?


    But as Mr. Miller nced at Remington-who hadn''t said a word since entering and radiated a cold, forbidding air—he realized this meeting felt less like a proposal and more like a reckoning.


    Feeling a knot of worry tighten in his chest, Mr. Miller hesitated. Cassius broke the silence with a low, steely voice.


    "If you want to know why we''re here, President Miller, you should ask your precious daughter! Maybe you should find out what trouble she''s been up to."


    Mr. Miller immediately turned to Mrs. Miller. "What''s going on?"


    She shook her head, just as baffled. Margaret hadn''t told her anything. Seeing this, Mr. Miller''s temper red.


    "Well? Go and fetch Margaret-now!"


    Mrs. Miller hurried out, and Mr. Miller tried to salvage the atmosphere with a forced smile as he sat down.


    "Mr. Dashiell, Cassius, you know Margaret''s always been a little spoiled-perhaps even a bit willful But deep down, she''s a good girl, truly. She''s always been devoted to you, Cassius. If she''s done


    something wrong, I hope you''ll let it go for old times sake. Of course H have a serious talk with her myself."


    Mr. Miller rambled on, his throat dry, desperate to ease the tension.


    Remington, meanwhile, sat with his legs crossed, not the slightest change in his expression, not even a flicker in his eyes. He didn''t respond.


    The silence dragged on, growing heavier and more ufortable with each passing second.


    Mr. Miller''s heart skipped a beat. He looked to Ste for help, sending her a pleading nce.


    Ste couldn''t refuse him. She rose, picked up a cup of tea from the table, and brought it over to Remington.


    “Remington, have some tea. Margaret will be out in a moment. Whatever''s happened, let''s talk it through calmly, all right?"


    Mr. Miller breathed a sigh of relief.


    He was certain Remington cared for Ste if she asked, surely he''d let the matter drop, no matter what Margaret had done.


    But one second passed. Five seconds. A minute.


    Remington didn''t so much as nce at Ste, let alone reach for the cup she offered.


    Ste''s hand began to tremble. Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears as she realized Mr. Miller and the staff were all watching her. Humiliation washed over her.


    She struggled to keep her tears at bay, but her voice quivered as she spoke.


    "Remington, what happened?


    Please, at least tell me. When we


    were young; you were always the one who was fair, who nevershed out in anger. You always put others first That''s why, back then, def y?th be the one to run f?r help knew you''d never abandon me unless you had a reason to go. You always cared so much, even if you hid it.”


    Her voice broke, a single tear finally slipping down her cheek. "But the way you are now... I hardly recognize you anymore..."