Chapter5 Actually, You Have a Younger Sister

Sophia's POV

Maria was lost in the mix of heartache and pride that comes with being a mother, but as she held my soft yet slightly stiff body, she keenly sensed something was off.

She let go and studied my expression carefully.

My face wore its usual cool detachment. Toward this carefully decorated princess room, I showed only polite gratitude, without a trace of genuine delight.

Maria's heart sank as realization hit her instantly.

Of course—I was already twenty years old, no longer the little girl who needed Barbie dolls. Having been lost out there for so many years, my character had long since matured and toughened. How could I possibly like this overly dreamy, saccharine style?

"You don't like it, do you?" Maria took my hand, her tone cautious, afraid her arrangement had made me uncomfortable. "It's okay, if you don't like it we'll change it! I just thought I'd make up for everything you missed out on as a child. Come on, let me show you the other rooms."

Without waiting for an answer, she pulled me along and opened a door nearby.

Inside was a completely different modern minimalist style—black, white, and gray tones with clean lines, full of design sense.

Maria then pushed open a door across the hall. This one had a gentle, elegant Chinese style, with calm wooden furniture paired with understated ink paintings, creating its own unique charm.

"These rooms are all ready for you. Take a look and see which one you like? Or if you have any ideas, we'll get a designer here tomorrow, tear it all down and redo it—we'll make it exactly how you want it." Maria's tone was full of eager-to-please urgency.

Oliver stood to the side watching with amusement. Leaning against the doorframe, he made exaggerated faces at me and silently mouthed, "See how nervous Mom is about you?"

My heart was wrapped in this warmth, a bit uncomfortable with it, yet not disliking it.

My gaze swept over the rooms and finally settled on one at the end of the hallway.

That room had an entire wall of huge floor-to-ceiling windows. The evening sun's afterglow was pouring in unreservedly, coating the interior with a layer of warm golden edges.

"Can I have that one?" I asked softly.

"Of course you can!" Maria immediately pulled me over and pushed open the door.

It was a sunroom, decorated most simply, with only essential furniture and lots of empty space that made it feel especially open and airy.

Most attractive was the wide tatami platform by the window, with a few cushions casually placed on it, next to a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf. It looked comfortable and relaxed.

I really liked the light here—bright, clear, unobstructed, making me feel like my whole being could stretch out.

"This one then." I finally showed a faint smile.

"Great, this one it is!" Seeing me smile, Maria was happier than anything. She immediately turned and ordered, "Butler Wood, quickly have someone bring up Sophia's things!"

Samuel Wood, who had been following behind, froze at her words, then bowed respectfully and said, "Mrs. Spencer, Miss Spencer came back with Sir Oliver and didn't bring any luggage."

Maria's expression froze for a moment, and she gripped my hand tighter. "It's okay, if she doesn't have any we'll buy them! Butler Wood, contact the PR departments of all the major brands right away. Have them send all their current season's new items—clothes, shoes, bags, everything suitable for Sophia's age—to the house for her to choose from."

She paused, then added, "And jewelry too, same thing. Also, call the car dealership and ask if they still have that globally limited edition pink Aston Martin sports car. Order one for Sophia."

Her words made everyone present fall silent for a moment.

Oliver whistled, clearly used to his mom's grand gestures.

Butler Wood's expression changed, though. He hesitated for a moment, but couldn't help stepping forward and saying in a low voice, "Mrs. Spencer, Mr. Spencer, Lady Sophia just got back. Isn't this a bit... extravagant?"

His words carried a barely detectable note of scrutiny and disapproval, and when his gaze fell on me, it held some inquiry.

As if looking at an outsider who had suddenly barged in with unclear intentions.

But for a butler to meddle in so many affairs seemed excessive.

I raised an eyebrow imperceptibly. I'd spent twenty years at the Smith family and had seen plenty of this kind of servant behavior—fawning over some while looking down on others. I couldn't be bothered to care.

Maria's expression instantly turned cold. "Butler Wood, what do you mean by that? Do I need anyone's permission to buy things for my own daughter?"

Dad, who hadn't spoken until now, also darkened his face, his gaze sharp as he looked at the butler. "Butler Wood, you've worked at the Spencer family for thirty years. You should know the rules best. Sophia is my, Logan's, biological daughter. She's the legitimate eldest daughter of the Spencer family. The grievances she suffered for the past twenty years—we might not be able to make up for them even if we gave everything we have. What are a few clothes and cars?"

"From now on, Sophia's matters are the family's top priority. Whatever she wants, we give her. I don't want to hear this kind of talk a second time."

Butler Wood's back went cold, breaking out in a sweat. He finally realized he had overstepped.

Mr. Spencer and Mrs. Spencer valued this daughter who had just returned far more than he had imagined. He immediately lowered his head and said fearfully, "Mr. Spencer, Mrs. Spencer, I spoke out of turn. Please punish me."

"You may go." Logan said coldly.

Butler Wood, as if granted amnesty, bowed and backed out. As he turned, a flash of dissatisfaction crossed his eyes.

Having gotten rid of the irrelevant person, the coldness on Maria's face finally dissipated, replaced again by a gentle smile for me.

She took me to tour the walk-in closet in the room. It was completely empty, which only made the space seem more spacious.

"This will all be filled up eventually," Maria painted a picture of the future for me, then suddenly changed the subject, her tone carrying a hint of hesitation and testing. "Sophia, there's something... Maria wants to discuss with you."

I looked at her.

Maria gripped my hand, opening her mouth somewhat nervously. "It's just... you have a younger sister, Betty Spencer."

Her tone was extremely careful, as if afraid of touching something fragile. "Although she's not my biological daughter, we've raised her as our own for twenty years, and there are feelings there."

"I know this isn't fair to you," Maria's eyes reddened slightly, "but I want to ask if you'd let her continue living at home, as an adopted daughter. Don't worry, everything in the Spencer family—the company, the assets, all of it—will be yours in the future. We'd just be giving her a place to live."