From Sneers to Cheers: Anthea’s Ascent

Anthea didn’t hesitate for a second before scribbling her name on the bottom of the document.

There were two copies of the deed.-

Pocketing one, she turned to Daly and Sandra and said, “Mr. and Mrs. Morris, goodbye.”

She had signed the deed, and there was no need to call them Mom and Dad anymore.

Continuing to use those terms would only raise suspicions of ulterior motives.

With those words, Anthea dropped to her knees, bowing her head solemnly to the ground before Daly and Sandra. “Thank you for all the years of care and upbringing.”

One should always be grateful. She was kneeling for the person her soul occupied, not for herself.

But Rebecca couldn’t let Anthea walk away just like that! She still needed Anthea to pave the way for her plans!

Who would marry that good–for–nothing if Anthea left?

An evil look flashed across Rebecca’s face before a mask of concern. “Anthea, I truly wish you’d reconsider. It’s easy to go from frugality to luxury but hard the other way around. I’m worried you won’t adapt to basement living. Stay, and let’s honor our parents together.”

Rebecca’s words were a masterpiece of manipulation.

First, she implied that Anthea was an ingrate, ready to abandon her family without repaying their kindness.

Second, she was parading her generosity in front of everyone.

Upon hearing this, the onlookers turned to Anthea with mixed expressions.

Indeed, was Anthea so heartless? She was ready to leave without repaying her debt of gratitude!

Anthea turned slightly and said coldly. “Ms. Morris, if memory serves, my own mother has also raised you for eighteen years. Why don’t you stay by her side and repay her kindness?”

Rebecca was stunned.

Anthea didn’t give Rebecca a chance to retort, rising smoothly from her knees, chin tilted. slightly upward as the light cast a snowy glow on her face, “Do not do unto others what you do not want done unto yourself.”

Rebecca could hardly believe that this person before her was Anthea!

What on earth was happening?

How had Anthea, the dullard, become so articulate? Could this be the butterfly effect of her

rebirth?

Ready to leave, Anthea glanced back, her gaze colliding with a pair of profound eyes.

Sherman narrowed his eyes slightly, an intimidating aura lurking within.

She remained unfazed, casually indifferent.

Sherman was dressed in a vintage frock coat, meticulously buttoned to the top, his chiseled jawline flawless, his skin an icy shade of pale, with a nicely tall nose and an air of asceticism, exuding an aura of someone who looked down upon the world.

Experienced in reading people, Anthea knew this man was no ordinary scion of power and certainly not someone to mess with. She didn’t want to be targeted by someone like him.

In an instant, Anthea shifted her gaze subtly and turned to leave.

Sherman watched the direction in which Anthea disappeared, his face expressionless, his long. finger tapping the tabletop rhythmically.

“Sherman, what are you looking at?” Daniel asked curiously, peering into the darkness where. Anthea’s figure had vanished.

“Nothing,” Sherman stood up, stubbing the half–smoked cigarette in the ashtray, “Let’s head. back.”

“Sherman, aren’t you going to see your fiancée?”

Daniel lifted his gaze, only to find Sherman’s tall silhouette was already at the door.

Daniel hurried to catch up, calling out. “Sherman, wait for me!”