Chapter 201

After Lauren Lynn finally coaxed Irwin Wentworth to sleep, she made her way downstairs.

Stewart Wentworth had already left. On the living room sofa, Rosita Lockwood sat alone, her soft sobs barely audible in the quiet house.

Lauren frowned and hurried over.

"Rosita, what's wrong?" she asked, sitting down beside her. "Why are you crying? Where's Stewart? Did you two have a fight?"

Rosita shook her head.

"Then what are you upset about?” Lauren pulled a few tissues from the box and gently wiped away her tears. "Weren't you two just picking out wedding invitations? That's supposed to be a happy thing. So why the tears?"

"Mom..." Rosita suddenly threw her arms around Lauren, clinging to her. "I just feel like Stewart doesn't love me the way he used to."

Lauren froze for a second. "Don't be silly. You're about to get married! Stop letting your imagination run wild."

"I'm not imagining things," Rosita sniffled, her voice trembling with a mix of hurt and helplessness. "He's always so busy lately. Even when he's home, he seems distracted, like his mind is somewhere else."

But beneath that pitiful exterior-where Lauren couldn't see-Rosita's eyes gleamed with calculation and bitter resentment.

my memory. There's so much I can't recall. But I heard

Kensington and Stewart were secretly

the only one he loves, but lately, the way

"Mom, do you think

chill run through

happening-the thing she'd feared

ruled by their baser

be loyal, to love just one woman for life?

and luxury came from never believing in the promises of love. Back when she tangled with Malcolm Kensington, it was his ability and the Kensington family's standing that drew

would be even more influential today,

eyes, she'd always be the woman who married in with a daughter from another man. The family

after Saul's stroke left him bedridden, her status in the Lockwood

marrying Stewart and officially becoming Mrs. Wentworth. That would make Lauren the mother-in-law of Stewart, the heir to Northborough's richest family. She'd finally

off without a

Kensington's unborn child could

her face composed and motherly, even as these ruthless calculations spun

her eyes flashing cold. "Don't worry, Rosita. I won't let

Rosita replied, her

to each other, a picture of warmth and closeness- though beneath the surface, both were plotting

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