Chapter 1230:
Around them, the club stretched wide with rows of polished tables and heavy chairs crafted from rare, costly wood, each one occupied by the head of a leading family.
Several guests lifted their glasses or offered nods, acknowledging Helga in a friendly manner.
At a nearby table, Helga tipped her chin politely toward the Smiths—a small, deliberate signal that she still remembered their attempt to pair their daughter with Myron.
Henley Smith rested both hands on his cane and remained silent. His face tightened briefly, yet he still returned a stiff nod.
“So tell us, what has Millie been busy with these days?” Nixon asked, sounding amused.
“Has she taken her wedding pictures with Myron yet? Picked out a honeymoon spot? Is everything set?”
Everyone knew he wasn’t truly seeking information; he was simply stirring the pot.
Millie’s name had been floating through every drawing room in Crobert lately, especially after Charles’ now-famous speech exploded online. In this circle, no one stayed uninformed for long.
Before Helga could answer, Napier spoke up.
“She is handling an investment project tied to Yaroslav Technology.”
He laid a card on the table and added lightly, “My third grandson decided to involve himself in it as well.”
“I heard he is doing more than just tagging along,” Henley said, his voice dry.
Napier let out a low chuckle.
“I was only trying to sound humble. Do you really take me at face value, Henley? Has your family slipped so far that you must send your granddaughter around, hoping to marry her into any promising house in town that would take her?”
Rumors had already spread about the Smith heiress. It was said they had tried to link her not only with Myron, but also with Charles and several other rising heirs from powerful families.
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Lois Graves released a soft, amused chuckle. Her eyes drifted toward Henley before settling on Brea, who was quietly sipping her wine.
” Brea,” Lois called out, her tone teasing but curious.
“I heard you and Millie have been working together lately. What do you think of her?”
Brea set her glass on the table, pausing as she scanned the eager faces gathered around. It was clear everyone wanted her take on Millie.
Though Brea still wore the same understated outfit from her meeting with Millie, a glimmer of color shone at her cuff—a gemstone button Millie had pressed into her palm as a keepsake.
Most of those present had crossed paths with Millie, but their opinions tended to be tangled up with personal interests or family ties. Helga, for example, was about to become Millie’s mother-in-law; it was impossible for her to be impartial. Brea stood apart. Whatever her leanings, people respected her candor.
She smoothed her sleeve and spoke evenly.
“She’s more capable than most expect. There’s something of her father in the way she carries herself.”
“How much of that spark did she inherit?” someone asked.
A sly smile curved Brea’s lips as she replied, “If I had to put a number on it—three out of ten.”
The crowd broke into quiet debate.
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.
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