Filed to story: Seventeen Heartbreaks: When Love Has No Voice
Meanwhile, Leila stirred, roused by the murmur of conversation. Pregnancy disrupted Leila’s sleep, often leaving her restless and exhausted. Even with prolonged rest during the day, fatigue clung stubbornly. Thankfully, Bria had kept her promise, ensuring Leila received plenty of prenatal care and nourishment.
Recently, Bria had been wrapped up in organizing Tyrone’s birthday celebrations, leaving her no time to pay attention to Leila. However, Leila was acutely aware that this period of calm was merely temporary. She couldn’t quite figure out Bria’s true intentions.
Amidst Leila’s growing anxiety, the voices outside grew louder.
“Let’s just go to the party and enjoy ourselves. Why bother watching her?”
“But that’s Miss Nixon’s orders. If anything goes wrong, it’s on us.”
“What are you so scared of? Didn’t you see how she’s cozying up to Bria? She seems perfectly content now. Why would she want to leave? She’s probably never had it so good.”
The undertone of jealousy in their words was unmistakable.
As Leila heard someone envying her “fortunate” circumstances, she couldn’t help but feel the irony of it all. Her current comfort was a trade-off for future safety. The uncertainty of what lay ahead was known to no one.
Outside, the debate continued fervently until, after a lengthy discussion, they finally decided to leave, ceasing to watch Leila.
As the sound of footsteps receded, Leila’s heart began to race. She sensed that her opportunity to flee was finally approaching.
Led by Ewing, Sarah approached the room where Tyrone stayed. Tyrone was seated at a piano, engrossed in his playing, his back to Sarah. Playing the piano was Tyrone’s only passion.
As soon as Sarah entered, she began to lavish praise on Tyrone. “Is that your grandfather? He plays the piano wonderfully. I’ve known a professional pianist who played it before, but Tyrone’s talent surpasses his by far.” Ewing couldn’t help but find her remarks amusing, responding with a hint of frost in his voice, “That piece was composed by my grandpa specifically for my aunt, his beloved only daughter. Miss Miller, it’s surprising you’ve heard it elsewhere.”
Realizing her mistake, Sarah offered an awkward smile and fell silent. At that moment, Tyrone ceased playing. Only then did Ewing approach Tyrone, smiling warmly. “Grandpa, this is Miss Miller. I brought her here to meet you. Does she look familiar? Is she the one you’ve been searching for?”
Sarah managed to speak as softly as she could. “Hello, Tyrone. I heard we’ve met before. Do you recall where?”
At that moment, Tyrone turned to face Sarah, his gaze icy. The smile on Sarah’s face abruptly froze, and a hint of panic flickered in her eyes. Wasn’t this the supposed deaf old man, the very one she had deliberately chosen to mock Leila due to his disability? Who could have known this very man was Tyrone from the prominent Nixon family?
Now, everything made sense to Sarah, especially why Tyrone told Ewing that he was impressed with her. How could he not be, given what she had done to him?
A shiver of fear ran through Sarah. Ewing was oblivious to Sarah’s odd demeanor as his focus was solely on his grandfather. Ewing studied Tyrone’s expression carefully, only to find that Tyrone was merely giving Sarah a cold, distant look as if she were a complete stranger.
At Tyrone’s icy gaze at Sarah, Ewing assumed Tyrone had another relapse. It seemed sobriety had gradually become a rarity for Tyrone. It was hard to predict what would happen next if things kept going on like this. The unpredictability of Tyrone’s condition weighed heavily on Ewing, evoking a sadness that brought moisture to his eyes.
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Turning to Sarah, Ewing explained, “My grandpa doesn’t seem to recall much right now. He gets confused now and then. But don’t fret. Perhaps if you visit him more frequently, it will help spark his memory.”
Hearing Ewing mention that Tyrone struggled to recall past events and was disoriented at times, Sarah felt a wave of relief wash over her, easing her anxiety. Simultaneously, a daring thought flashed through her mind. Recalling Landon’s indifference and Bria’s public humiliation, Sarah resolved that one day, she would make them suffer.
Clinging to this newfound determination, Sarah quickly regained her composure. She bowed her head and feigned wiping away tears. “I understand what you’re going through, Ewing. Don’t worry. Even if it’s just a misunderstanding, I’m willing to offer any help. It will be wonderful if Tyrone can recollect his memories quickly.”
Then, turning to Tyrone, Sarah spoke with gentle compassion. “We have met before, Tyrone. You once mentioned that I remind you of your granddaughter. I truly hope you can recover soon.”
Tyrone gazed into the distance with a blank expression. “Granddaughter… Where is my granddaughter?” he muttered.
As Sarah moved to grasp Tyrone’s hand, he unexpectedly dodged and stood up.
“Bria is throwing a birthday party for me, right? Please, walk me there. I’d like to see everything. It’s been so long since we celebrated like this,” Tyrone said to Ewing.
Ewing gently took Tyrone’s arm and guided him toward the hall. Sarah, undeterred by the awkward moment, followed them without hesitation. She considered the rarity of such an opportunity and how, if everything went smoothly, it could be her chance to climb up the ladder.
While the Miller family was certainly affluent, their wealth paled in comparison to the Nixon family’s. For Sarah, this was about more than just money. It was about social standing and a matter of self-esteem.
Sarah’s mind raced with thoughts. After helping Tyrone settle at the table, Ewing discreetly positioned a couple of bodyguards to monitor him. Sarah seized the opportunity to sit next to Tyrone, despite his apparent disregard for her presence. She was determined to project an image of closeness with Tyrone, attempting to convince others of their non-existent kinship.
Ewing noted Sarah’s actions, and his expression tightened into a slight frown. It was then that the butler interjected with a pointed question, “Is Miss Miller truly a member of the Nixon family?”
Ewing responded with a hint of uncertainty, “I’m not sure about that. Only my grandpa knows the answer. If he believes Sarah is related, I’ll arrange for a DNA test immediately.”
However, establishing familial ties was complicated since Ewing’s cousin’s parents had passed away, making direct parentage verification impossible. This could make the DNA test results less definitive.
Observing Sarah’s overly ingratiating demeanor, the butler expressed his disappointment, “Even though she wasn’t raised by the Nixons, no true Nixon descendant would behave as she does. It seems she fails to appreciate the Miller family, who have supported her all these years.”
His words rang with truth. Even Bria, known for her charm, was never as obsequious as Sarah. This reinforced Ewing’s distaste for Sarah, as he preferred sincerity over superficial flattery.
As Sarah ingratiated herself with Tyrone, Bria watched, her frustration mounting until her teeth were clenched in frustration. At that moment, someone whispered a suggestion to Bria, “Miss Nixon, you must find a way to remove Sarah from this party. There’s no concrete proof of her claims to the family yet. Just look at that smug expression on her face. It’s infuriating!”
Bria snapped, “I’m not a fool. I don’t need reminders of the obvious.”
Bria continued, her voice tinged with disdain, “I have no interest in vying with her for my grandpa’s attention. A well-crafted piece is prepared as my grandpa’s birthday gift. Even if Sarah turns out to be my cousin, I’ll show her that she’s no match for me.”
With thoughts of the unique gift Leila had spent days crafting, Bria’s confidence surged, and she lifted her chin proudly.
The moment to present the gifts soon came. Bria deliberately chose to be the last one to present the gift, aiming for it to be a grand surprise. She desired to use the gift to leave a lasting impression on Tyrone.
As Bria uncovered her present, the room fell into an impressed silence. On a dark green tray sat an exquisitely carved crane, its wings elegantly spread as though it were about to take flight. The craftsmanship was so precise that the feathers appeared nearly lifelike, as if the crane might soar away at any moment.
Such artistic finesse was rare, possibly beyond even a master’s ability. While Bria avoided claiming to have made this masterpiece, the guests were quick to commend her sincerity and thoughtfulness in the gift. Even Ewing couldn’t help but show a glint of appreciation for Bria. “Our grandpa has always cherished such pieces. This will undoubtedly bring him joy.”
With a poised and confident tilt of her head, Bria responded, “It’s for our grandpa, so it had to be the best. As long as he’s happy, it’s all worth it.”
Bria’s statement was punctuated with a pointed look toward Sarah, throwing down an unspoken challenge.
Sarah had prepared a gift for Tyrone. Yet, Bria’s exceptional present had raised the stakes, and now Sarah had to think quickly about how to make her own gift stand out. Before coming here, Sarah’s frustration was evident.
She was upset that Landon, whom she had feelings for, chose to attend the banquet alone without bothering to secure an invitation for her. It was clear that Bria harbored a keen interest in him, igniting a spark of insecurity in Sarah.
Sarah’s own gift, merely a supplemental item for the elderly, was prepared by one of her subordinates and lacked the personal touch and significance of Bria’s crane.
Ewing’s discerning eye caught the unease on Sarah’s face. He shook his head slightly, silently commenting on her manners. As Landon caught sight of the carved crane, the craftsmanship struck him, causing his hands to tremble with disbelief. The craftsmanship bore the unmistakable mark of Leila. But how could that be?
Landon’s heart raced as he moved closer to the artifact, driven by an urgent need to confirm its origins. Who on earth had made this masterpiece? But before Landon could reach it, a crisp, resounding crack echoed through the room.
Initially, the guests dismissed it as an illusion, but their disbelief turned to shock as the tray bearing the crane visibly cracked and then shattered, the pieces scattering across the table.
A moment earlier, Bria had been basking in the glow of admiration, her smile wide as compliments flowed. But as the carved crane disintegrated, her expression froze, a mix of confusion and panic taking over.
Questions hung in the air, the most pressing being the authenticity and material of the carved crane. Was it truly made of jade, or had there been a mistake? The implications of this incident were profound, not just for the gift, but for the credibility and face of the Nixon family in the eyes of their distinguished guests.
With all eyes on the broken carved crane, Sarah seized the moment to make her point, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Miss Nixon, your gift certainly looked beautiful, but it seems the quality was not quite up to par.”
Stepping forward, Sarah bent to pick up a shard from the wreckage, holding it up for the room to see. Her smile was tinged with contempt as she scrutinized the piece. “I was under the impression it was crafted from fine jade. Turns out, it’s just glass. With such an exquisite design, no one really bothered to check the material, did they?”
The crowd’s snickers were like nails on a chalkboard to Bria. Her face contorted in displeasure. Bria marched forward, jaw clenched. “This can’t be right! Glass? That just can’t be!”
Bria had spared no expense for this present. How dare Leila screw this up?
Sarah, a sly smirk plastered on her face, said mockingly, “Miss Nixon, your shocked look tells me you didn’t make this ‘masterpiece.’ Who’d you hire to make it? Spill the beans, so we won’t be tricked like you were.”
The crowd held their tongues, but their gazes were filled with ridicule and disdain. Bria’s grand gesture had turned into a flaming dumpster fire. Her gift, meant to be a showstopper, was a shattered mess. Tyrone remained silent, but his scowl spoke volumes.
Ewing’s face darkened. He shot Bria a look that could curdle milk.
Bria had never been the laughingstock of the room before. Pride was her middle name, and this public humiliation felt like a punch to the gut.
“You wretch!” Bria, her face contorted with rage, saw red. In a blink, her hand connected with Sarah’s cheek with a resounding smack.
Sarah, caught off guard, yelped and brought a hand to her stinging cheek. Her eyes widened in disbelief.
Bria, voice laced with venom, spat, “My grandpa merely said you looked familiar. Don’t flatter yourself, you leech! Look at you, already willing to ditch your own family and employ any schemes just to pretend to be my cousin. Who do you think you’re fooling?”
Sarah, stung by Bria’s words, retorted, “Oh, please! You’re a fine one to talk, huh? You’re chasing after a taken man, for crying out loud! Don’t your fancy-pants schools teach basic decency? Or is stealing other women’s men part of the curriculum?”