"Unemployed" Family? Hidden Tycoons Dote on Her Free Preview

On the day Arabella Macdonald left, she thought she could slip away from the Macdonald Villa quietly.

But her adoptive mother, Freya Macdonald, called her in right before her departure.

Seeing the Macdonald family's true daughter, Harper Macdonald, curled up on the sofa with Dylan Johnston, the playboy heir of the Johnston family, Arabella understood everything instantly.

The Macdonald family and the Johnston family had an existing engagement.

Dylan had always claimed to be her fiancé, showering her with attention since high school.

He pulled out all the stops to win her over.

And yet, Harper had been back for less than a week, and he was already wrapped around her finger.

He never liked me. He just liked the title 'the Macdonald family's daughter'.

Seeing Arabella had noticed, Freya didn't bother hiding anything.

"Arabella, you can see for yourself," Freya said. "Harper and Dylan are simply a better match.

"The engagement with the Johnston family was originally for you. But you and Dylan never had any spark. Harper and he connected almost immediately.

"You can't force it. Fate decides who belongs with whom.

"I expect you won't cause any trouble for Dylan going forward. The two of them will be announcing their engagement soon."

Arabella had thought they had something important to say. She raised a mocking eyebrow. "You should be saying this to Dylan. He's the one who's been clinging to me for years. I have zero interest in him."

A snake like him? I've seen through him long ago.

Trash like that, anyone can have him.

Being looked down on by Arabella for years had filled Dylan with resentment.

Now that she was exposed as a fake, her haughty attitude infuriated him.

He sneered, "Listen to the impostor, talking big!

"No wonder I never felt a spark all these years. You are a fraud!

"Thank God we never finalized the wedding plans. Imagine if I'd ended up married to a counterfeit!"

He ridiculed her status with disgust, though inwardly he felt a pang of regret.

Arabella's looks and figure are miles above Harper's.

What a waste that she isn't the real daughter of the Macdonald family.

Hearing his shameless words, Arabella couldn't help but laugh coldly. "I should be the one saying that. Thank goodness someone stepped in to take out the trash—saved me from having to look at that pizza face of yours any longer."

"You!" Dylan's pockmarked face twisted with rage.

Seeing her boyfriend being mocked, Harper felt spiteful but put on a show of sympathy. "Dylan, don't be so harsh. You'll hurt Arabella's feelings.

"If I hadn't come back, I wouldn't have 'taken' you from her, or her place as the Macdonald daughter."

"Anything she says now comes from a place of pain. Just let it go." Harper played the understanding one perfectly.

Arabella looked at her and cut her performance short. "My feelings aren't hurt. That garbage chased me for seven or eight years, and I never gave him a second glance. But you? You latched onto him in a week. Trash meets scheming bitch. A perfect match."

This directly provoked Freya. "You ungrateful wretch! Such a vicious tongue!

"No wonder I could never warm up to you. You're ill-mannered at your core!

"You took Harper's place and lived in luxury for eighteen years. She suffered in a sanitation worker's home. And you dare speak to her like that?

"Outrageous!"

Being scolded, Arabella's gaze only grew colder and more indifferent.

The "luxury" she enjoyed in the Macdonald family was entirely self-made.

Her adoptive father, Carter Macdonald, was a terrible businessman. He was hardworking in his youth and saved up to open a factory, but he had no real business sense.

If not for her secret assistance, that factory would have gone under at least eight times over.

The Macdonald family would never have moved to Doranor City, let alone become one of the three biggest merchants in the Meridian District.

But Arabella had never told Carter and Freya any of this. They had no idea the factory's biggest investor was her.

Carter hadn't wanted to get involved, but the arguing downstairs forced him to make an appearance.

He came down, deliberately frowning at Freya to look like the good guy. "Enough. Is that any way to talk to her?

"Arabella is going back to her birth family today. She'll have enough hardships. We're the ones who made the mistake all those years ago. It's not her fault. Don't send her off with such coldness."

Though his kindness was an act, Carter was at least being fair.

Still, looking at Arabella, his feelings were complicated. I have always been fond of her. She has been a lovely child.

But if she hadn't been here, we wouldn't have gone eighteen years without looking for our real daughter. Harper wouldn't have suffered so much then.

He sighed, "Arabella, you may not be my blood, but I raised you for eighteen years. In my heart, you're still a daughter to me.

"I've made some inquiries. Your birth parents seem to be unemployed. If you ever need help in the future, don't hesitate to come to me." It was a hollow offer, pure hypocrisy.

Freya immediately elbowed him, standing up. "Why are you being so charitable? They'll latch onto you like leeches!"

Parents with no proper jobs? What kind of family is that?

Arabella looked at the hypocritical Macdonald family and Dylan, her expression detached. "That won't be necessary, Mr. Macdonald. If anything, you should be more careful managing the factory and the company from now on. Especially... watch the people closest to you."

Her eyes flickered toward Freya, her meaning clear.

There was a real snake in the company.

Freya and her older brother had been embezzling for years. If Arabella hadn't been secretly keeping watch on them, they would have drained half the company's funds by now.

If her birth family were truly poor, she wouldn't have the time to watch over the Macdonald family's interests anymore.

Hearing this, Freya exploded. "You just can't stand to see us do well, can you? Cursing the company on your way out? Talking as if you ever managed your dad's factory? Who do you think you are?"

Arabella knew arguing with Freya was pointless. She just snorted, "You'll find out exactly who I am soon enough."

Let's see how tough you are then.

Tired of the talk, Arabella stood up and slung her only backpack over her shoulder.

It held just her documents and the laptop she bought herself. She was taking nothing else.

Dylan, however, couldn't resist a final jab. "Mr. Macdonald, Mrs. Macdonald, she's not taking any luggage. That bag might be stuffed with valuables. You should probably check it."

Let's see how high and mighty she is after a search.

Freya seized on the idea. "Dylan's right! Open it up. Let's see what's inside."

Harper quickly put on an act. "Mom, isn't that a bit much? Arabella's family is so poor. Even if she took a few things, it would just help her get by. Let it go."

Freya sneered, "Everything in her room was bought by your father and me. What right does she have to use our things to 'get by'? Her parents are unemployed. A few trinkets won't fix that."

With that, Freya moved to check Arabella's backpack.

But Arabella, as if expecting this pettiness, simply opened the bag herself. "There's nothing from the Macdonald family in here. My ID is mine. This laptop, and the clothes I'm wearing, were bought with my scholarship money."

If she hadn't been the one supporting the entire household all these years—and didn't want to leave them a cent—she would have thrown money in their faces.

But they weren't worth it.

Seeing Arabella truly had taken nothing, Harper and Dylan looked disappointed.

She actually has some pride.

With the Macdonald family speechless, Arabella shouldered her backpack to leave.

But then a weak voice called from the stairs. "Arabella... Wait..."

The family turned, stunned.

It was Edward Macdonald, who had just had major surgery, hurrying downstairs.

Seeing her precious son, Freya rushed to support him. "Edward! It's nothing important. You should be resting. Why did you come down?"

Edward had severe aplastic anemia. He'd recently had a bone marrow transplant performed by a reclusive specialist. The surgery was successful, but he was in recovery—a time when stress and exertion were dangerous. They'd deliberately kept him from seeing Arabella off.

Yet here he was.

Seeing her frail older brother, who had always protected her, a ripple of emotion stirred in Arabella's cold heart. She paused.

Edward shot Freya an annoyed look. "If you hadn't had Albie babysit me, I wouldn't have had to rush."

The butler, Albie Allan, had refused to let him come down. He'd only managed by sending Albie away.

He was just glad Arabella was still there.

Without ceremony, Edward pulled out a bank card and pressed it into Arabella's hand.

He said, "Arabella, Dad told me. Your birth parents don't work. Your brothers... don't seem to have proper jobs either. Some are still in school. I'm worried you'd have no money over there. This is my savings. Take it, for emergencies."

Holding the card, Arabella felt a genuine warmth.

So, in this whole family, only Edward truly cares about me.

It made all her efforts to research his illness and ensure his surgery was successful worth it. Leaving him was her only real regret.

Seeing Edward give money away, Freya panicked. "You foolish boy! What are you doing? That's your only card! There's at least a hundred thousand dollars in there. Why give it to her? She's not your real sister!"

Hearing this, Harper grew anxious but played the victim. "Edward is so kind... so generous to Arabella. He's barely spoken to me since I came home."

Seeing her upset, Dylan jumped in. "Edward, you're way too biased. You're cold to your own sister but fawning over that impostor?"

"You!" Edward, insulted, was immediately furious.

Seeing Edward's anger, Arabella's eyes darkened. She picked up a glass of water and threw it in Dylan's face.

Dylan, the Johnston family heir, had never been treated like this. He roared in outrage, "Arabella! How dare you!"

But Arabella's gaze was icy and terrifying. "Dylan, this is the Macdonald Villa. Who do you think you are, yelling at the master of the house? Edward just had major surgery. He can't get agitated. Watch your mouth!"

Dylan, relying on the two families' long friendship, had always overstayed his welcome at the villa. First, it was to pester her. Now, with Harper by his side, he'd become even more brazen. But daring to speak to Edward like that? He was overstepping.

Knowing he'd offended Edward, and seeing the dark looks on Carter and Freya's faces, Dylan backed down.

Harper seized the chance to stir the pot. "Mom, Dad, even if she was defending Edward, Arabella went too far. Throwing water? So rude."

Harper really knows how to twist the knife.

Arabella had had enough. She pressed the card back into Edward's hand. "Edward, you need to focus on recovery. Buy yourself some proper supplements. Keep the money for yourself."

"Arabella..." Edward tried to protest, but Arabella firmly gripped his hand.

For a girl, her grip was surprisingly strong. He couldn't pull free.

Arabella gave him a sincere smile, saying, "I appreciate the thought. But Edward, don't worry. I'm not short on money. Take good care of yourself after I'm gone."

With that, she released his hand.

Edward, flustered, tried to give her the card again.

But Arabella was already walking away, her departure as cool and decisive as her demeanor.

Dylan muttered bitterly, "'Not short on money'? Still playing the big shot even now? Arabella, you're such a phony!"

The words had festered for seven or eight years. Finally saying them didn't make him feel better, though.

That wretched woman, splashing me even on her way out. Damn it!

Seeing his embarrassed state, Harper quickly fetched a handkerchief to dab his face.

Freya, seeing Edward had the card back, snatched it. "Thank goodness she has some shame. Could you imagine the loss?"

Outside, seeing no driver of the Macdonald family was going to offer her a ride, Arabella pulled out her phone to call a car.

But just then, a sleek, black, unmarked sports car pulled up.

She couldn't identify the make, but the engine's purr told her it was no ordinary vehicle.

In the sunlight, the black paint had a deep, luminous sheen.

The color and finish whispered of hidden luxury.

The tires and rims were high-end, too.

This was clearly a custom, modified car for the ultra-wealthy, easily worth as much as a Bugatti or Lamborghini.

Did some big shot just arrive?

To Arabella's surprise, the man who got out looked anything but a big shot. He was dressed shabbily, with dark circles under his eyes.

He wasn't much older than her, maybe four or five years, but he was unshaven and seemed generally worn out. Despite his disheveled appearance, his eyes were sharp and alert.

They landed on Arabella, and a flicker of surprise passed through them. "You must be Arabella, right?" he asked.

He continued, "You and Mom... You really look like twins."

His family said they'd send someone to pick up Arabella today. He'd just finished a case and was on leave, so he offered to swing by and get her. That way, the family could just wait and welcome them both home.

He thought he might need an introduction at the Macdonald Villa. But one look at Arabella, and he knew.

Seeing the man's face, which bore a clear resemblance to her own, Arabella raised an eyebrow. "You're... my brother?"

Alfred Hamilton quickly introduced himself, "Yes. I'm Alfred Hamilton, your third brother."

Only then did Alfred notice Arabella's odd look. He glanced down and remembered.

Right. I've been on a stakeout for that drug lord for days. Barely slept, and haven't changed clothes. I just came straight here. Too tired on the drive to even think about buying a new suit.

"Sorry, I came in a rush. Forgot to change..." Alfred was cold and indifferent in his unit, an unyielding leader. But here, in front of his little sister, he felt uncharacteristically embarrassed.

Arabella was about to say it was fine when Harper's voice piped up from behind them. "Where did this beggar come from? Security! How did you just let someone wander in?"

The villa's security guard hurried over. "Ms. Macdonald, he said he was here to pick up Arabella. So I let him through."

Hearing this, Harper turned to Arabella with feigned surprise. "Oh... Arabella, I'm so sorry. I didn't know this was your family. Please don't mind what I just said."

Arabella looked at her coldly. "If you're sorry, then shut up. No one wants to hear you talk."

With that, she walked past Harper, opened the passenger door of Alfred's car, and tossed her backpack inside.

Dylan had followed them out, eager to get back at her for the water incident.

Seeing Alfred's car with no visible brand logo, he sneered, "Well, well. I've never seen a car without a badge. Did your family assemble this themselves in the backyard?"

Alfred, still leaning tiredly against the car, replied calmly, "Actually, yes. We did."

They were special forces. Every vehicle was heavily modified. His, in particular, had been designed by their fifth brother, Daniel Hamilton.

Daniel was still a PhD student but was already a weaponry design expert earmarked by the Defense Department. The weapons and vehicles he designed, once modified, were exceptionally powerful and had unmatched performance—they could even save your life in a crisis. So this car's value far exceeded any luxury vehicle on the market, and its modification cost alone rivaled a supercar's.

Dylan, of course, missed the meaning entirely. He kept mocking Arabella. "I'm shocked your family even has a car. But with no logo... maybe it's stolen?"

Harper played along, pretending to be concerned. "Arabella, you should be careful. What if you accidentally become an accessory? You could get in serious legal trouble."

Arabella was rolling her eyes.

Their nonsense inside was bad enough. Now they're outside, taunting my family?

She'd had enough.

But before she could speak, Alfred's expression darkened. He walked straight toward them.

Alfred was over six feet tall. Standing in front of Dylan, he seemed like a giant. He clapped a heavy hand on Dylan's shoulder and said, "Kid, you can eat whatever you want, but you can't say whatever you want. Did no one ever teach you that?"

Years of running devil training for his team and interrogating prisoners had earned Alfred a nickname—Ruthless Death. The look on his face now made Dylan feel like he might wet himself.

He'd never seen anyone with such a terrifying presence.

"I... I was just... speculating..." he said.

Alfred snorted, "Speculating? This country may have free speech, but you're legally responsible for every word you say. If your parents didn't teach you, I can."

As he spoke, the hand on Dylan's shoulder tightened slightly.

There was a sickening crack. Dylan's shoulder was dislocated in an instant.

Dylan felt like his arm had vanished. Excruciating pain made him shriek. "Ah! Okay! I won't! Let me go!"

Only then did Alfred, his face still cold, sharply pull the arm back into place.

Dylan was now pale and speechless with fear. But Harper still hadn't understood what was going on.

Alfred glanced sideways at Harper. She shuddered violently.

His eyes are terrifying.

"Little girl," Alfred said, his voice low. "I don't hit women. I'll let you off today. Next time I see you, keep your mouth clean. I don't like anyone cursing my family."

Talking about my sister getting in serious legal trouble?

You're asking for it.

Harper could only nod, thoroughly cowed.

Alfred finally released the coercion. He turned back to Arabella with a warm smile. "Arabella, let's go."

Arabella looked at his smiling face. It was hard to believe this was the same intimidating man from moments ago.

Alfred is definitely not ordinary.

But since he has handled Dylan and Harper, I should play the sweet little sister.

"Okay, Alfred." She climbed into the passenger seat with a smile.

Alfred didn't think much of it. He got in the driver's side, buckled up, and drove away from the Macdonald Villa.

Harper and Dylan were left behind, watching the car disappear, their hearts still pounding.

"What was that guy?" Dylan muttered, moving his now-functional arm, the fear lingering.

Harper shook her head. "I don't know. But his license plate... I think it was a Doranor City plate. And... it looked like a government plate."

That's so strange. He looked so scruffy. How could he be driving a Doranor City government vehicle?

"You must have seen wrong." Dylan shook his head. He'd been too scared to notice details, but his gut said she was mistaken.

Arabella's birth family is supposedly full of unemployed drifters. How could they afford a Doranor City plate? Only locals can get those.

Getting residency in Doranor City isn't for ordinary people. You are either born into wealth or married into it. The Macdonald family is rich, but even they have out-of-town plates.

Arabella's family has to be dirt poor. There is no way they are Doranor City locals.

So she must have been seeing things.

In the car, Alfred, still feeling a bit awkward, said, "Sorry about that, Arabella. I came in such a hurry. I forgot to change. I know I'm a mess. Didn't mean to make you the subject of gossip."

He'd never cared about his appearance before. But he couldn't embarrass Arabella like that again.

Arabella gave an understanding shake of her head. "It's fine. Clothes should be comfortable, that's all."

Alfred immediately felt more fond of her.

Noticing she only had the backpack, he asked, "Arabella, is that all your luggage? Just the one bag?"

Arabella nodded, her tone cool. "I didn't want a single thing from the Macdonald family."

Alfred was highly observant. He caught the edge in her voice, and his eyes turned cold.

Did that family make her unhappy?

Then he said gently, "It's okay. Once we're home, I'll buy you anything you want."

Arabella offered a warm smile. "Okay."

Whatever my family's real situation is, at least Alfred seems genuinely kind.

Arabella noticed the route Alfred was taking. She couldn't help asking, "Alfred, isn't this the road to Oceanview Peak?"

Oceanview Peak was where Doranor City's wealthiest, most powerful, and most prestigious families lived.

The Peak was enormous, covering almost the entire Sunspire District. Driving up the winding road, they passed massive villa clusters and luxurious estates.

The Macdonald family, new to the city, had made it their mission to learn that Doranor City's ten oldest, most influential families were all clustered here in the Sunspire District.

The problem was that the roads up the mountain had security checkpoints. Unless you were a resident or had an invitation from one, you couldn't enter Oceanview Peak.

Yet their car only paused briefly at a checkpoint. The license plate was scanned, and the gate lifted immediately.

Alfred answered her question casually, "Yeah. Mom and Dad are waiting for us at home."

Arabella's eyebrows shot up.

My home is on Oceanview Peak?

I am starting to doubt Carter's investigative skills.

Aren't my parents and brothers supposed to be unemployed drifters?

How could Carter not even know where they live?

Carter was notoriously incompetent. That was why Arabella had had to manage the company from the shadows.

He probably just heard 'unemployed' and made up the rest in his head.

Well, this is good. If my family is well-off, I won't have to worry about supporting them.

They passed several impressive villas. She expected the car to stop, but it didn't.

Then she saw the bigger villas. Okay, so they're a bit wealthier than I thought.

Alfred drove for another ten minutes. They left the villa zone and entered the sprawling estate area. Arabella narrowed her eyes.

Alright. My new family isn't just wealthy. They're seriously wealthy.

Just as that thought settled, the car kept going.

It finally reached the very summit of the peak.

Oceanview Peak got its name because this top road was completely unobstructed, with clear ocean views on both sides.

And at the end of this road stood only one estate.

It was a landmark visible from downtown Doranor City—Cloudrise Manor.

It was iconic because it sat at the city's highest point. From downtown, you could see this castle-like structure against the sky.

It was said to have been personally overseen by Howard Martin, the world's top architect. It was an extremely luxurious, hyper-modern landmark. From this castle, you could see the sunrise over the ocean in the morning and the most stunning sunset in the evening—hence the name.

The owner was shrouded in mystery. Rumors said even Doranor City's top ten families couldn't compare. No one knew who owned Cloudrise Manor, only that its owner was fabulously wealthy, with investments in every industry, but no family company of their own. Everything was handled by a team of top-tier butlers and stewards.

No one had ever seen the owner. Their family's true identity was unknown.

Arabella assumed Alfred was just driving her up to see the view. She expected they'd pass by and head down to the other side of the mountain.

Instead, Alfred turned the car through the gates into the museum-like estate.

Under the sun, water danced in the central fountain, catching the light.

The sculpture at its center was a modern masterpiece, clearly worth a fortune.

Even Arabella, accustomed to valuables and authenticity, knew it was top-tier.

Alfred brought the car to a smooth stop right before the castle's grand entrance.

Before Arabella could process it, Alfred got out and walked around to open her door like a gentleman. "Arabella, welcome home."

As he spoke, two lines of more than twenty servants flanking the red carpet at the entrance bowed in unison. "Welcome home, Ms. Hamilton!"

For a second, Arabella thought she'd walked onto a movie set.

"Alfred... this... is my home?"

Is this for real?

Even with ample funds in her own accounts and plenty of experience with grand settings and important people, Arabella was stunned.

She had prepared herself for a run-down house, unemployed parents and brothers, and the responsibility of supporting them all.

But she never expected a complete 180-degree turn.

My family is the legendary, mysterious top-tier wealthy family of Doranor City?

Seeing Arabella's surprised expression, Alfred gave a warm, indulgent smile. "Yes, this is your home. Come on in. Mom and Dad are waiting."

Arabella took a steadying breath and got out of the car. Glancing at the extravagant red carpet beneath her feet, she stepped onto it with a slight awkwardness. "This is... quite a welcome."

Alfred smiled softly. "It's only right."

After all the hardship she has endured for so many years, her first homecoming deserves to be special.

As they spoke, two figures rushed out from behind the tall doors at the end of the carpet.

"Is that Arabella?" Came an excited, melodic female voice.

Arabella looked up to see a middle-aged woman approaching, dressed in a simple yet elegant gown. She was beautiful and graceful, with a timeless poise. Though past forty, she was impeccably groomed, radiating a star-like, gentle aura.

Beside her stood a distinguished-looking middle-aged man—tall, handsome, and bearing an uncanny resemblance to Alfred.

Arabella knew instantly: these were her parents.

Seeing them, the epitome of aristocratic elegance, her mental image of "an unemployed drifter" vanished completely.

Carter, could you be any more incompetent?

Does this look like an "unemployed drifter"?

By now, Florence Hamilton had reached Arabella. She took her hands in hers, her eyes welling up instantly. "It's true. This is my daughter. Jonathan, look how much she takes after me."

Jonathan Hamilton studied Arabella's face—so strikingly similar to Florence's—and nodded in wonder. "Yes. The resemblance is striking."

In her prime, Florence was an internationally renowned star, celebrated for her extraordinary beauty.

At first, they'd never doubted that Naomi Hamilton was their biological child. But after Naomi hit puberty, she began to look less and less like either Florence or Jonathan. Whispers started to circulate, and even they began to sense something was amiss.

They had just begun looking into it when the Macdonald family uncovered the mix-up. The police compared their DNA with Arabella's, finally confirming she was their biological daughter.

They'd planned to run one more test after she arrived. But now that they’d seen her, it seemed unnecessary.

Arabella was the spitting image of a young Florence—down to the smallest detail.

Makeup-free, she was stunningly beautiful in a pure, natural way.

Arabella was equally surprised by how much she looked like her mother.

No wonder Freya and I were never close. I was cute as a child and grew up looking nothing like her. She probably suspected I wasn't hers all along.

Once that suspicion took root, Arabella investigated and uncovered the truth.

This time, it seemed she'd truly found her birth parents.

"Dad, Mom, it's a bit windy out here. Let's go inside," Alfred suggested gently.

As it was a seaside estate, the ocean breeze was strong. He didn't want Florence catching a chill.

Florence nodded eagerly. "You're right! I was so excited I forgot all about the wind. Come inside, dear."

Still holding Arabella's hand, she led her through the doors.

Feeling Florence's soft, warm hand in hers, Arabella felt an unexpected wave of warmth.

Growing up looked down on by Freya, she'd rarely experienced a mother's love and care. Now she realized just how comforting a mother's touch could be.

The group moved inside.

They passed through an entrance hall that felt more like an art gallery. The walls were lined with paintings, each flanked by either ceramic pieces or sculptures.

As she passed a particular ceramic piece, Arabella paused.

This piece... looks familiar.

Noticing Arabella’s gaze on the ceramic piece, Florence said, “Arabella, do you like it?”

Arabella hesitated, then nodded a little awkwardly.

Like it? Well, I liked it enough to make it—otherwise, I never would have.

But she made so many pieces each month, handing them off to her studio assistant to sell on her behalf. This one had taken her at most three hours.

To think it ended up in my own parents' home... What a coincidence.

"If you like it, we can move it to your room later," Florence offered. "It's a masterpiece by a mysterious new artist. I picked it up at a charity auction last month for eight million dollars. Not terribly expensive, but really wonderfully creative."

Arabella's mouth twitched.

Eight million dollars... 'Not terribly expensive'? Seriously?

Even as one of the top three merchants in the Meridian District, the Macdonald family won't casually spend eight million dollars on such a small ceramic piece.

And it is just something I threw together.

Just how wealthy is my family?

They entered the grand living room.

A dozen servants stood in two neat lines. One group held trays with various beverages—different kinds of coffee and juice. The other held trays of assorted pastries.

Florence guided Arabella past them, her voice soft. "It's your first day home, sweetheart. I didn't know what you'd like to drink, so I had them prepare every kind of coffee and juice. And these pastries are from the best patisserie in Doranor City—I got one of each flavor for you to try."

Under Florence's expectant gaze, Arabella felt obliged to choose. She opted for a hand-ground coffee and two pastries.

She said, "I didn't like things too sweet. The matcha and osmanthus flavors looked just right."

Florence was delighted. "I can't believe it! Even your tastes are just like mine."

It really feel like family. How had I never noticed how different Naomi's preferences were?

The selected servants brought over the items, and the rest dispersed.

Alfred said, "Mom, Dad, I'm going to go change clothes."

Jonathan looked at his disheveled state and sighed. "You're the leader of INTERPOL's Special Unit A now. What kind of case is this that has you personally leading the team and looking like this? Had I known you were in this state, I never would have let you pick up Arabella. What if you'd scared her?"

At his words, Alfred looked awkward. "This was an international drug lord takedown. It wasn't just me—even the..."