Your Gold Digger is Actually A True Heiress by Vera Fiore

Chapter 37

“Miss Winters… little Thalia?” Mrs. Wilson emerged from the country house, her weathered face brightening with recognition. “Is it really you?”

“You know me?” Thalia asked, taken aback.

“Good heavens, look at you.” Mrs. Wilson’s eyes misted over. “The spitting image of your mother.”

Seeing Thalia’s bewilderment, Asher explained softly, “Mrs. Wilson was your mother’s cook at the Winters estate. Your mother learned all her signature dishes from her.”

“Those eyes,” Mrs. Wilson’s voice wavered with emotion. “Just like Lady Rosalind’s. I used to hold you as a baby, you know. Such a precious little thing you were.”

At the mention of her mother, Thalia felt the familiar ache in her chest, tears threatening. “I… I’m so pleased to meet you properly.”

They settled in Mrs. Wilson’s warm kitchen, where stories of Rosalind’s youth flowed freely over tea. Thalia learned how her mother – a privileged young woman who’d never set foot in a kitchen – had determinedly learned to cook to win her father’s heart.

The revelation shifted something in Thalia’s understanding of her parents‘ love story. She remembered how deeply in love they’d seemed during her childhood, how her father had fallen into depression after her mother’s death. The question that had haunted her for years surfaced again: if he’d loved her mother

so deeply, why remarry Victoria just two years later?

“Mrs. Wilson,” Thalia ventured carefully, “did you know Victoria Darwin?”

were inseparable back then. Victoria was always visiting, though she

Victoria as a child – she’d

father. Though Victoria had been even more

she’d been as an “aunt,” Thalia had never been able

my stepmother now,” Thalia said quietly.

Wilson fell silent, clearly weighing her next words. “Near the end… Victoria visited your mother frequently at the hospital. I overheard something one day, though perhaps I shouldn’t

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Gold Digger is Actually A True

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Chapter 37

“I need to know.”

to Victoria. She was terrified of leaving you without a mother’s love, you

your care.”

Thalia’s face drained of color. All these years of

truth struck her like

hers under the table, his thumb tracing gentle circles on her palm. The simple

prepared lunch – each dish a perfect mirror of Thalia’s childhood memories. Pushing aside her

they ate, “Mr. Blackwood here spent ages learning these recipes. Wouldn’t take no for an answer, he wouldn’t. Came by so

cook.”

do that?” Thalia asked, turning to