Daisy Ginger paused, looking at the scene in the hall, uncertain whether she should enter or not.
After all, to her, Emily Ginger and Abigail Perry were outsiders, only slightly more familiar than strangers.
Their arguments and squabbles were just entertainment to her.
Abigail Perry, with her back to Daisy, hadn’t noticed her come in. She pointed at Emily Ginger’s nose, saying, "Hurry up and go upstairs to tidy up. Ian will come to pick you up later. If the Linton family sees you , it’ll be so embarrassing!"
These words were truly harsh, and Daisy Ginger saw Emily Ginger, whose eyes hadn’t shed tears, suddenly tear up from the sting of them. She looked away, wiped her tears, and choked up as she turned to go upstairs.
"Honestly, so grown up, yet still so willful..."
After Emily Ginger left, Abigail Perry swore under her breath, turned around, and upon lifting her eyes saw Daisy Ginger standing at the doorway, clearly stunned for a moment with her expression momentarily stiffening.
Daisy Ginger didn’t look at her. She stepped inside, addressing the servant, "Go make me a cup of coffee."
The servant, who had been standing silently on the side, was relieved, like a prisoner freed, and quickly walked away.
Daisy Ginger leisurely walked to the sofa and sat down, kicked off her high heels, and without looking at Abigail Perry, spoke casually, "Auntie Perry, among the women I’ve seen growing up, your voice is the loudest."
Her tone was neither cold nor warm, but full of sarcasm.
Upon hearing this, Abigail Perry’s expression subtly twisted for a moment, her face instantly darkening.
All these years, Abigail Perry’s food, clothing, and lifestyle were comparable to those of a wealthy lady, and she even hired an etiquette coach to teach her how to conduct herself.
But a rural woman, no matter how much she disguised herself, could never emulate the innate grace of someone like Lady Stephens, raised in privilege since childhood.
In the circles of the upper-class women, Abigail Perry was discriminated against, constantly seeking ways to fit in, but her identity and demeanor were invariably out of place.
Emily Ginger was her ambition, not only her daughter but also a stepping stone for her ascent.
Only when Emily Ginger marries well can she hold her head high and feel proud, making those women who looked down on her secretly envious and jealous.
Daisy Ginger’s words, though light, were more provoking than any other words, as if stripping her bare and slapping her hard, changing Abigail Perry’s complexion.
Daisy Ginger wasn’t afraid of her, allowing Abigail Perry to glare at her darkly while she took the coffee the servant handed over, casually flipping through a magazine on the sofa.
Ten minutes later, Ian Linton drove up, somewhat hurriedly.
It had rained lightly at some point outside, and Ian hadn’t used an umbrella. As he entered, his jade-like handsome face had a slight hint of moisture. His gaze swept through the hall, seeing Daisy Ginger sitting on the sofa, momentarily surprised, he called out to her: "Director Ginger, you’re at home today?"
Daisy Ginger leaned back on the sofa, crossing her slender, straight legs, appearing slightly lazy, and looked up to smile at him, "Mm, I haven’t been home for a long time, came back to stay for a night. Looking for Emily Ginger?"
Ian’s gaze settled on her, seemingly hesitating for a moment before quickly returning to his senses, nodding politely, "I had a bit of a disagreement with Emily... I’m here to take her home."
Abigail Perry’s voice came from the stairs, and Daisy Ginger turned her head, seeing Abigail Perry holding Emily Ginger’s hand and coming down with a broad smile.
Emily Ginger’s demeanor had returned to normal, but she seemed somewhat silent, letting Abigail Perry lead her without saying a word.