It seemed Isabella's parents were about to leave when Emma George, flustered, called out, “Wait, please don't go just yet! I haven't finished-let me explain..."

Unable to resist her curiosity any longer, Emily Blair poked her head out for a better look.

Isabella's parents stood with stern faces, their cold gazes fixed on Emma George.

"So, you're claiming to be Cynthia-that biological mother?" Isabella's father asked, his tone icy.

Emma nodded quickly. "Yes, that's me. That's why I came to find you. I'm not a fraud. I'm telling you the truth-every word."

Isabella's parents exchanged a glance, their expressions unreadable.

After a pause, Isabella's father reached into his suit's inside pocket and pulled out a business card, handing it to her. "I have somewhere to be. If you have more to say, contact me later."

Emma took the card gingerly. “When... when is a good time to reach you?”

Buttoning his jacket, Isabella's father's tone dropped even lower. "And your card?" "My business card?" Emma hesitated. "I... I don't have one."

She dug through her purse and fished out a scrap of paper, scribbling her name and number before handing it over. "Here—will this do?"

He took the paper, barely glancing at it. Suddenly, his eyes froze and his brow furrowed as he looked up, expression darkening.

"You're Emma George?"

Emma nodded again. "Yes, I am."

At that, Isabella's mother's face changed sharply. She stepped closer to her husband to see the note for herself.

Isabella's father, unwilling to believe it, pressed, "You're Emily Blair's mother?"

Emma's face went pale. She nodded, her voice strained. “Yes, but there's something I need to tell you about her—"

Another look passed between Isabella's parents.

Without another word, Isabella's father crumpled the paper in his fist and tossed it aside.

"No wonder you're spouting all this nonsense. You're just here to stir up trouble. After the way your daughter bullied mine, you've got the nerve to show your face? Incredible."

Isabella's mother let out a cold laugh. "If you're really her mother, then I'm not surprised at all. Like mother, like daughter. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree."

Emma's face twisted with anger. "Say what you want about me, but leave Emily out of this."

Isabella's mother scoffed, utterly dismissive. "Don't bother us again. If you do, we'll call the police for harassment.”

With that, Isabella's parents turned away, not sparing Emma another glance.

Emma stood frozen, her expression shifting wildly-caught somewhere between desperation and indignation, not sure which emotion to settle on.

She didn't move until Isabella's parents had disappeared from sight. Then,

shoulders slumped, she bent down and picked up the crumpled scrap of paper from the ground.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed someone approaching.

A flicker of hope lit up in her eyes as she looked up.

But the next moment, her expression froze.

Clutching the paper tightly in her palm, Emma straightened up, flustered. "Emily- what are you doing here?"

Emily Blair's face was unreadable. "Mom, what were you just doing?"

Emma stuffed the paper into her purse, forcing a breezy tone. “Nothing, really. Just out for a walk. I, uh, I should get going. Do you want to come with me?"

Emily lowered her eyes, saying nothing.

As Emma tried to brush past her, Emily spoke, her voice calm and steady.

"Mom, I've been following you since you left the house. When you were at the café, I was in the diner next door, watching you. When you came upstairs, I was right outside listening."

Emma's body tensed. Her eyes darted around, her breath growing unsteady.