Chapter 321


    Just as Attlee was about to speak, he was cut off by her angry roar: “All of you, get out!”


    Olga wasn’t satisfied and angrily questioned her, “Are you not showing your money now because you


    want to leave it to Arabe?”


    “Who I want to leave my money to is my business, none of yours! If you don’t leave, I’ll call for help!”


    Seeing Grace’s explosive temper and her incessant cough, Attlee quickly dragged Olga out of the


    room.


    “Don’t yell at her, if you annoy her to the point of something bad happening, we won’t get a single


    thing!”


    “How’s that possible?” A vicious glint shed in Olga’s eyes. “Isn’t it right andwful for you, her only


    son, to inherit her wealth after Grace passes away?”


    She wished Grace would just die already, so she wouldn’t have to keeping to the hospital.


    Olga thought about it and found it to make sense.


    She must not let Arabe get the upper hand!


    “Let’s go,” Attlee, holding Olga’s hand, sighed. “We’lle back when Grace has cooled down.”


    “Stop dragging me.”


    After a few steps, they noticed Ynda was still standing there, her eyes filled with tears of grievance.


    Attlee turned back, puzzled. “Yoli, what’s wrong?”


    Ynda’s tears finally fell as she said pitifully, “Grannie Grace only has Be in her heart. Is it because


    I haven’t been doing enough to win Grannie Grace’s favor? Dad, I’m sorry, I’ve embarrassed you.”


    Her voice was thick with the urge to cry.


    Attlee’s heart ached, and he went over tofort her. “It’s not your fault; you’ve been doing great.


    Be must have used some tricks.”


    She must be buttering up Grace a lot; old folks love kids who do that!


    “We’re busy and haven’t beening here; that gave her the chance.” That’s what Attlee thought.


    Ynda, her eyes filled with tears, asked innocently, “So, if I learn from Arabe, visit Grannie Grace


    often. Even if Grannie Grace scolds or hits me, I’ll bear it silently. Will Grannie Grace like me then? If


    so, I’lle every day!”


    “Why would you ever want to learn from Arabe? She’s not worth a hair on your head!” Olga stepped


    forward, taking her hand. “Let’s go home; we’ll have someone cook you something nice.”


    “We can’t go home yet; I have an idea.” Attlee suddenly whispered something in Olga’s ear.


    Just as Arabe arrived at the office entrance, a group of people rushed up to her.


    “Ms. Be, hello, I’m the assistant to Tracy, the vice president of the Solterra Fashion Association, and


    a renowned designer. Do you have a moment to listen to what I have to say?”


    The speaker was a twenty–something girl who looked fresh out of college, still carrying a youthful


    Content (C) N?v/elDra/ma.Org.


    innocence.


    “Go ahead.” Be responded calmly, her expression unchanging.


    The girl was taken aback; normally, hearing of Tracy’s position would have shocked her.


    But Arabe’s reaction was so casual, as if she had met even more important designers.


    Feeling awkward, the assistant quickly exined her purpose. “Actually, when you were apanying


    Designer Molly to the National Design Competition, Tracy noticed your talent. She thinks it’s a waste for


    you to be just a small assistant and wants to personally mentor you to make a name for yourself in the


    design industry! Are you interested?”