There were keys to luxury cars.

There was expensive jewelry.

And designer bags worth millions...

As well as photos of servants kneeling to wait on her.

The lavish lifestyle of the rich was something ordinary people could only dream of, which was precisely why Rosemary Vance's social media account had so many followers.

[Happy birthday, my princess.]

[I can't even imagine how grand tonight will be!]

[Princess, do you need a pet dog? I can do it! Woof woof!]

[I heard Lord Will is also attending the princess's birthday party tonight. Is that true?]

[Lord Will? No way. Lord Will wouldn't lower himself to attend just any party.]

Seeing the skeptical comments, Rosemary didn't reply. Instead, she simply liked the one mentioning the rumor of Will's attendance.

A simple like was far more effective than a direct explanation.

[The princess liked my comment! Looks like the rumors are true.]

[Wow! As expected of the princess!]

[Getting Lord Will to attend her party, the princess really is something else.]

[I'm calling it now: Lord Will is definitely going to ask the princess for the opening dance tonight.]

[Hold on, I'm going to the party tonight too. I'll live stream it for you all.]

The person who replied was Rosemary's friend, Greer, an influencer and the only one invited to the party.

[Waiting!]

[Me too.]

[...]

After liking the comments, Rosemary logged out, turned off her phone, and looked at Dowager Vance. "Mother, Celia is coming today. You need to have someone keep a close eye on that bitch. Celia can't see her."

Celia and Caitlin were close friends.

And Carey looked so much like Caitlin. If Celia saw Carey, it would be a disaster.

It wasn't a guarantee that Celia would see Carey, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

This was also why Vance Castle had never installed surveillance cameras over the years.

While security cameras offered privacy, anything connected to the internet could be hacked.

Rosemary was a very cautious person.

Dowager Vance nodded. "Alright, I'll go make the arrangements now."

Carey was sitting at the desk by the window, practicing her calligraphy.

Two branches stretched in from outside the window, their fresh green leaves perfectly complementing the color of Carey's dress.

Carey had a love for vintage styles. Today, she wore a long tunic with knotted buttons and simple flats on her feet.

Her hair was half-down.

A gentle breeze blew in from outside, tousling her hair. A red begonia blossom floated in on the wind, landing softly in her hair.

The green of her dress against the red of the flower created a surprisingly beautiful contrast.

Dowager Vance never bothered knocking on Carey's door.

She shoved it open with a loud bang.

*Thwack!*

The sound was jarring.

Carey calmly slid the page she had just finished under a stack of paper and walked over.

"Mother."

Dowager Vance glared at Carey. "We have important guests today. You, the black widow who killed my son, will stay in this room and not show your facest won't have you bringing bad fuck to our distinguished visitors. You stay put!"

Carey nodded. "Yes, Mother."

Carey stood at five-foot-nine, while Dowager Vance was now only five-foot three As Carey towered her head, the Dowager caught sight of the bright flower in her hair.

That was all it took.

Rage flared in Dowager Vance's eyes. She grabbed a fistful of Carey's hair; her voice trembling with fury Whore! You shameless whore! Your husband is dead, and you're wearing flowers in your hair? Who are you trying to seduce?"