At the Hawkins Estate, a woman clad in designer fashion was seated in the living room of the main house, her fury palpable enough to terrify the household staff into silence.

In a fit of rage, she hurled her tea cup to the floor, shattering it as she shrieked, "Witch! Witch! Witch!"

The maids, petrified, knelt in unison, trembling uncontrollably.

This woman was Helen Murphy, known among the Hawkins as their own Helen. Nearing her fifties yet with a beauty regimen that made her appear barely over forty, Helen was innately jealous, especially since she didn't possess the natural beauty of Pamela Patel, Elysia's mother.

The object of her long-standing unrequited love, Clayton Hawkins, had chosen Pamela over her. Adding insult to injury, on the very day both women married into the Hawkins family, Old Mrs. Hawkins, Betty, had disregarded Helen's feelings entirely, passing the family reins to Pamela during the wedding celebrations.

Hence, from the day she married into the Hawkins family, Helen saw Pamela as a thorn in her side.

of the Hawkins Estate. Helen had to mask her hatred with respect, playing the

was like springtime for Helen, freeing her from the need to hide her true feelings. She vented her frustrations on Pamela whenever she could. If not for the consideration of

at a high-society luncheon earlier that day. A wealthy rival had publicly exposed her, claiming her husband, Carl Hawkins, was entangled

for his philandering ways, had countless mistresses. Their marriage, a result of Helen's scheming, lacked any foundation of love, leaving

was clear: Helen was being

Hawkins family was now solely upheld by Clayton, insinuating that the rest were mere parasites. Equally infuriating was their

me? What serene grace, what scholarly poise, what nonsense!

doesn't

daughter, as if the dead care. She should be searching in hell, for that's where her daughter must

spite me, living out of sheer malice. A

the living room, her presence a stark contrast to the tension. Her beauty, undiminished by her disheveled state, was a bitter reminder to Helen of

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