After getting out of the car, she turned around to open the rear door and lifted several large, beautifully wrapped gift boxes from the back seat, then headed straight toward the luxurious Main House.
Having walked a few steps, she saw Julia Bluen, who was just returning to the house to get some drinks. Julia was alone; Glades Horne was still sitting on a stone bench beneath the shaded path in the Backyard. He had wanted to call Uncle Ying to have someone bring them refreshments, but Julia stopped him. She argued that it wasn’t far, and since they weren’t working and were quite relaxed, she could easily fetch them herself.
Glades laughed and complied with her wish.
"Julia," Pheobe Rogers called out to Julia Bluen immediately.
Julia turned her head, saw Pheobe Rogers, and stopped. She offered a faint smile and said politely, "Aunt, you’re here."
"Julia." Pheobe Rogers approached Julia Bluen, pressing the gift boxes into her hands. With an air of embarrassment mixed with complaint, she said, "Yesterday was your and Glades’s big day, and I couldn’t even attend. I meticulously selected these wedding presents for you. I’m not as fortunate as your mother-in-law, so I can’t afford expensive gifts. Please don’t take offense, alright?"
Pheobe Rogers had once been Gian Horne’s secretary before becoming his mistress. After getting pregnant with James Horne, she aspired to usurp Mila Anderson’s position as Gian’s wife. The two women, vying for their own happiness and the same man, engaged in fierce verbal battles, neither willing to concede. Mila had the backing of the family matriarch. Pheobe came from a middle-class family, while Mila hailed from a wealthy one. The matriarch forbade Gian from divorcing Mila to marry Pheobe, and Gian himself had no such intentions, content to enjoy the company of both women.
Her climb up the social ladder had been halted midway, leaving her in a state of limbo.
Now, her son was the fourth young master of the Horne Family, yet she herself was a nobody.
Resentful and unwilling to give in, she made daily trips to the Horne estate. If she couldn’t secure the title of Mrs. Horne, she was at least determined to infuriate Mila Anderson. The family matriarch, for James Horne’s sake, largely ignored Pheobe’s shameless and persistent antics.
The words Pheobe spoke now sounded pleasant enough, but they were laced with barbs clearly aimed at Mila Anderson.
Julia Bluen didn’t particularly dislike Pheobe Rogers. However, listening to her deliver such barbed insults against Mila Anderson, a spark of anger ignited within her. After all, Pheobe Rogers was a mistress. No matter how many children she had borne for Gian Horne, as long as he remained married to Mila Anderson, Pheobe was undeniably just that—a mistress.
So what if the mistress wasn’t invited to the wedding of the legitimate wife’s son? Was it against the law? Was it wrong? No, it was entirely appropriate. Who in their right mind would invite their love rival to their son’s wedding? Only a fool would do such a thing.
Julia offered a faint smile. Seeing the challenging glint in Pheobe’s eyes, she mused, Compared to Pheobe Rogers, Orlando Evans is merely an amateur. No matter how much Mila Anderson disapproves of me, she’s still my husband’s mother. As her daughter-in-law, it’s only natural for me to defend my mother-in-law when faced with an external adversary.
It was rather unfortunate, though. Here she was, on the very first day of her marriage, her first day as a daughter-in-law, already caught up in such a situation.
"Auntie, I’m truly sorry. It’s all my fault. Glades didn’t want me to feel awkward, so he preferred that no one outside our immediate families attend. That’s why you couldn’t be at our wedding. But it’s alright; James was there, and I’m sure he conveyed your good wishes to us. Auntie, your own good fortune might not compare to my mother-in-law’s, but James is quite accomplished, and Dad provides you with a monthly living allowance. I trust your life is comfortable and without worry." Julia Bluen spoke with a consistently modest smile on her lovely oval face, her words gentle. Her naturally clear voice, when she spoke softly, was as melodious as an oriole’s song. To Pheobe Rogers’s ears, however, each word felt like a slap across the face.
Julia’s implication was clear: Pheobe Rogers was an outsider, not truly part of the Horne family, and thus naturally could not attend the wedding. Although James Horne was a young master of the Horne family, his mother, Pheobe, was not officially acknowledged by them. As for "good fortune," there was simply no comparison to be made. How could Pheobe possibly measure up to Mila Anderson? Even if Gian Horne had genuinely loved Pheobe more, Mila was the legitimate wife. Furthermore, Mila’s son was the head of the Valence Group and effectively held sway over the entire Horne family.
Pheobe Rogers’s face fell at once.
Hearing the conversation between the two, James Horne walked out from the house.
Seeing Pheobe Rogers, he called out, "Mom, you’re here." Then he glanced at Julia Bluen, his gaze somewhat cold.
"James, I wanted to give Julia and Glades an additional gift. I wasn’t qualified to attend yesterday’s wedding, sigh..." As Pheobe Rogers saw her son come out, her face switched to one of grievance.
Julia Bluen stood aside, just smiling faintly.
Pheobe Rogers simply wanted to move into the Horne estate and become its mistress.
James Horne looked at Julia Bluen again.
"I’ve thanked Auntie," Julia said lightly.
"You call my mom ’Auntie’?" James Horne glared at Julia Bluen, his handsome face dark. He understood his mother’s intentions. He, too, wished for his mother to live in the Horne Mansion so he could be with his parents. But his stepmother and grandmother wouldn’t yield, and he was powerless to change things. His older brother would never agree either. The very existence of him and his mother had once deeply wounded his stepmother and older brother—that mother and son.
"Then, may I ask, what should I call your mother?" Julia Bluen inquired with a faint smile. A natural aristocratic aura, much like Glades Horne’s, emanated from her, inherently pressuring Pheobe Rogers.
James Horne pressed his lips together and said nothing.
The way he pursed his lips was so much like Glades Horne.
"Well... I’m your husband’s younger brother, your brother-in-law. She’s my mom, your elder by seniority..." James Horne began softly. He desperately wanted to tell Julia Bluen to address his mother as ’Mother-in-law’ too, but meeting Julia’s piercing gaze, he trailed off. He sensed that her bright, clear eyes also held an unyielding resolve.
"Do you want my daughter-in-law to call you ’Mother-in-law’?" Suddenly, Mila Anderson’s voice came from behind James Horne.