A shimmer danced in Joanna Sullivan’s eyes as she gazed hazily at Mason Lawson, her look utterly captivating.

And just like that, under the curious, gossiping stares of everyone, Mason Lawson grabbed Joanna Sullivan’s arm and stormed out of the dinner party.

His movements were nearly rough.

Outside the hotel, Mason Lawson let her go and said coldly, "Stop pretending. I know your tolerance."

A flicker of embarrassment crossed Joanna Sullivan’s face, but her eyes instantly cleared.

She gave a bitter smile and said faintly, "I didn’t think you’d still remember how much I can drink. But I don’t have a choice; it’s something I’ve had to learn. Now that I’ve left the dance troupe to start my own studio, I have to attend even more of these functions."

Mason Lawson’s handsome face was stone-cold. "You don’t need to tell me this. I don’t want to know, and I don’t care."

Just then, his chauffeur pulled the car up and stopped in front of them.

Mason Lawson opened the passenger door, motioning for Joanna Sullivan to get in.

A faint joy bloomed in Joanna Sullivan’s heart. ’It seems that even though Mason says he won’t forgive me, he still cares.’

However, after Joanna Sullivan got in, Mason Lawson simply closed the door and told the chauffeur, "Take Miss Sullivan home. I’m going for a walk."

"Mason..."

Joanna Sullivan was completely stunned that Mason Lawson wasn’t getting in.

Following Mason Lawson’s order, the chauffeur was already pulling away, giving her no chance to get out of the car.

Joanna Sullivan’s eyes reddened. ’She would have been happy to just follow him, to walk the streets all night long.’

But Mason Lawson hadn’t given her that chance.

The streets of Rivaster were still bustling with traffic, even though it was already eleven o’clock at night.

Mason Lawson walked on, a silhouette against the city lights. His stern face was cast in shadow, his dark eyes swirling with unreadable emotions.

He pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and lit one. Pale smoke billowed, obscuring his face.

...

Meanwhile, Eve Vaughn had been pestered by calls from Lucy all evening.

Even the security guards hadn’t been able to make Jason Vaughn and Lana Chambers leave. The pair had been raising hell at the Vaughn villa, refusing to let the renovations continue.

In the end, security had to bring out a large guard dog just to scare them off.

Lana Chambers and Jason Vaughn were absolutely furious.

At the same time, they felt a pang of uncertainty.

On the way back, Lana Chambers asked her husband, "Are you absolutely sure? Does your mother really have a claim to half of this house? If so, why isn’t Eve Vaughn the least bit scared?"

Jason Vaughn looked puzzled. "That’s definitely what the lawyer told me last time. Tell you what, I’ll call him again to double-check. Could it be that Jonah Spencer is giving that brat ideas, making her so bold?"

And so, Jason Vaughn called his lawyer and got the same answer as before.

"Lawyer Walsh, here’s the thing. That brat has Jonah Spencer backing her. You’ve heard of Jonah Spencer, right?" Jason Vaughn asked nervously. "If this really goes to court, what are our chances of winning?"

The Lawyer Walsh they had hired said with great confidence, "Of course I know Jonah Spencer. He’s Rivaster’s top lawyer! But in this case, it doesn’t matter if it’s Jonah Spencer or the king of heaven himself. The simple fact is, your mother has inheritance rights to half of that house. Rest assured, our chances of winning are at least 90%."

With that reassurance, Jason Vaughn and his wife could finally relax.

Lana Chambers sneered and said sinisterly, "In that case, we’ll keep raising hell with no holds barred. It’s time we taught that little bitch Eve Vaughn a lesson she won’t forget!"

The next morning, they brought Eve Vaughn’s grandmother directly to the villa. The three of them charged inside and began snatching tools from the construction crew.

Because one of the trespassers was a woman nearly eighty years old who kept complaining she couldn’t breathe, the construction crew and the designer were thoroughly frightened.

Left with no other option, Lucy had to call Eve Vaughn again.

It seemed this was something she would have to handle in person.

At the time, Eve Vaughn was in class.

After getting the call, she had to ask to be excused and hailed a taxi.

When she arrived home, her aunt and uncle were simply standing by as her grandmother, Theresa Thompson, wailed dramatically inside the villa.

"Oh, my son, you left this world too soon! You’ve left this poor old woman all alone, without even a home to her name!"

Lana Chambers and Jason Vaughn made a show of supporting the old woman. "Mom, don’t be sad," they said. "Justice will prevail. No one can take what is rightfully yours!"

Eve Vaughn strode over. "There’s no one else here," she said coldly. "Who is this performance for? Should I call the media for you? You can really put on a show then!"

Theresa Thompson glanced at her son and daughter-in-law, then pointed a trembling, hateful finger at Eve Vaughn. "You ungrateful brat! Your uncle raised you for nothing! And what happens? You kick him out of his home! Well, I’m back now! With me here, I’d like to see who dares lay a hand on my son!"

Eve Vaughn’s icy gaze swept over her grandmother before she turned to the designer. "Lucy, I’m so sorry to have troubled you today. Please go home for now; I need to handle a family matter. I’ll let you know when the work can continue."

"Of course, Miss Vaughn."

Lucy nodded, casting one last look at Theresa Thompson and her family. ’How can such a reasonable girl like Eve Vaughn have relatives who act like such shameless thugs!’ she thought.

After the designer and workers left, Eve Vaughn got straight to the point. "Alright, what do you people actually want?"

Lana Chambers’s tone was firm. "Either let us move back in and add your grandmother’s name to the deed, or pay us half the value of the house! I had it appraised; that’s at least fifteen million."

Eve Vaughn knew it. All they wanted was money.

But there was no way she was going to let them have their way.

She enunciated every word. "Fine. Let’s take this to court. I’ll give you whatever the judge decides! But every brick and tile of this house was bought with my father’s blood, sweat, and tears, and I will not let anyone take it! Grandma, if you hadn’t always been so biased, if you had treated my father and my uncle equally, I might have willingly given you half of this house. But as it stands, we’ll have to take the legal route."

Lana Chambers sneered. "The legal route? You think that scares us? Jonah Spencer can talk all he wants, but can he argue with the law itself?"

Though furious, Eve Vaughn remained calm and composed, a stark contrast to Lana Chambers’s belligerence. "I know you’re not scared," she said, her voice cold. "So we’ll just let the lawsuit drag on. For a year, maybe two. It’s not like these things get resolved in a few days. And even if I lose, I can always appeal. I will drag this out until you’re completely worn down."

With that, she walked to the front door, locked it, and said to them, "Oh, and I’ve already had the locks changed. No one gets inside without my permission."

Theresa Thompson had never much liked Eve Vaughn. Now, the thought that Eve had forced her precious younger son out of this grand villa and into a smaller house filled her with rage.

Even though Jason Vaughn was now living in a spacious 300-square-meter flat, it was nothing compared to this villa.

The old woman raged, "Eve Vaughn, you are cruel and unfilial! Have you no conscience? Your father is gone, and you’re going to leave me, an old woman, homeless?"

Eve Vaughn glanced toward Jason Vaughn. "Homeless? Don’t you still have a son? I seem to recall that when they were living here, he never invited you to move in. Oh, right, I forgot—your daughter-in-law wouldn’t have you. So it doesn’t sound like I’m the one making you homeless, is it?"