One week later, the Haston family hosted a dinner party, ostensibly to celebrate my father's new exhibition, but in reality it was Victoria's show of power. She invited important figures from New York's art and business circles, attempting to prove to everyone that despite Elizabeth's disappearance, the Haston family remained united and stable.

I wore a simple but elegant black dress, my hair pinned up, wearing only a pair of pearl earrings my mother had given me. When I walked down the stairs, I saw the hall already crowded with guests, glasses clinking and laughter flowing.


Victoria stood at the entrance greeting guests, wearing a magnificent red gown, with diamonds on her necklace sparkling under the lights. When she saw me, the smile on her face slightly stiffened.

"Ella, dear," she said with feigned enthusiasm. "You look... so plain."

"Sometimes simplicity is best," I replied, scanning the room. "Quite a turnout."


"Your father's new exhibition has attracted a lot of attention," Victoria said. "The Blake family even sent a representative."

My heart skipped a beat. "Really?"


"Yes, Alexander Blake himself." A calculating gleam flashed in Victoria's eyes. "He specifically asked about you."

Of course, she would notice that. In my past life, Victoria had always tried to marry me off to wealthy and powerful men in order to remove me from the family. Alexander Blake would be a perfect candidate.

"Really?" I feigned surprise. "I only had a brief conversation with him at the museum."

"Clearly, you made quite an impression on him," Victoria said, with a hint of displeasure in her voice. "He's in the garden. Perhaps you should go and say hello."

I nodded, knowing this was a test from her. She wanted to see how I would interact with Alexander, assessing whether this connection could be exploited.

As I walked toward the garden, I noticed Sophia standing with a group of young people. She appeared to have fully recovered and was telling what was evidently an engaging story. Seeing me, her smile wavered slightly, but quickly recovered.

The garden had been decorated into a dreamlike scene, with hundreds of small lights hanging from trees, creating a fairy-tale atmosphere. Alexander stood in a quiet corner, holding a glass of wine, seemingly admiring some sculptures my father had placed in the garden.

He wore a deep blue suit and looked heartbreakingly handsome. In my past life, I had truly loved this man, even though he never really loved me back. Seeing him like this now—not yet changed by our marriage and his betrayal—gave me a strange sense of nostalgia.

"Miss Haston," he noticed my approach and turned with a smile. "I was admiring your father's work. His sculptures have a... primal power to them."

"Thank you," I said. "He'll be happy to hear you say that."

"Our conversation was interrupted last time," Alexander said, getting straight to the point. "I'm still interested in your work."

"My studio isn't open to visitors," I replied. "But perhaps one day I'll invite you to see it."

His eyes sparkled with interest. "I look forward to that day."

We were interrupted by a familiar voice. "Alexander, there you are!"

Katherine Stanford walked over gracefully, wearing a shimmering silver gown tonight that accentuated her perfect figure. She took Alexander's arm as if it was her designated place.

"Kate," Alexander said, the warmth in his voice noticeably dropping. "Do you know Ella Haston?"

"We've met at the museum," Katherine said, giving me a fake smile. "Miss Haston, how nice to see you again. I heard your mother... has gone missing? How dreadful."

I remained calm. "Yes, it is indeed concerning."

"I heard she has...mental health issues?" Katherine continued, with feigned concern in her voice. "That must be difficult to deal with."

Alexander frowned. "Kate, this is not an appropriate topic for discussion."

"Oh, I'm just expressing concern," Katherine said innocently. "After all, mental illness often has genetic tendencies, doesn't it?"

I looked directly into her eyes, my voice calm but firm. "Some people do have hereditary mental illnesses. But more commonly, people are betrayed and manipulated by those who should care for them, resulting in psychological trauma."

Katherine's smile froze on her face. Alexander looked at me with new interest in his eyes.

"Please excuse me," I continued. "I should attend to other guests. Mr. Blake, Miss Stanford, I wish you both a pleasant evening."

As I turned to leave, I could feel Alexander's gaze following me. This round, I had won again.

Halfway through the dinner, Victoria tapped her wine glass, drawing everyone's attention.

"Distinguished guests," she began, her voice sweet and confident. "Thank you all for attending our family celebration. As you know, this is to celebrate my husband Richard's upcoming exhibition."

Applause broke out, and my father stood beside Victoria, smiling and nodding in acknowledgment.

"Unfortunately," Victoria continued, her voice turning somber. "Our family has recently experienced some difficulties. My stepdaughter Ella's mother, Elizabeth, has gone missing from her... treatment facility."

The atmosphere in the room immediately became tense. Everyone knew about Elizabeth Haston's "condition," which was one of high society's favorite topics of gossip.

"We are very worried about her safety," Victoria said, her eyes glistening with feigned tears. "If anyone has any information, please contact the authorities."

She paused, then forced a smile. "But tonight is about celebration! I would like to invite my beautiful daughter Sophia to perform a piano piece for everyone."

Sophia walked to the grand piano in the center of the hall and sat down gracefully. She began playing a Chopin nocturne, her fingers dancing skillfully across the keys.

I stood at the back of the crowd, watching this carefully orchestrated performance. Victoria was consolidating her image—a caring stepmother, a supportive wife, a mother nurturing a talented daughter. And I, in her narrative, was a pitiful girl with a mentally unstable mother and potential psychological issues.

When Sophia finished playing, the applause was thunderous. Victoria proudly embraced her, then turned toward me.

"Ella, darling," she said loudly, making sure everyone could hear. "Would you like to perform something for our guests? Perhaps one of your paintings?"

It was a trap. Victoria knew I hadn't prepared any performance. She wanted to make me look unprofessional in front of everyone, less graceful than Sophia.

But I had prepared for this moment.

"Thank you, Victoria," I said with a smile. "Actually, I did prepare something special."

I walked to the piano, and Sophia reluctantly gave up her seat. I sat down, took a deep breath, and began to play.

It was a piece my mother had taught me, one she had composed when I was very young. In my previous life, I had never performed it in public, as Victoria had forbidden anything related to my mother to be mentioned in the house.

The music flowed out, sad yet beautiful, filled with longing for a lost love. As I played, I saw my father's expression change, his eyes widening with the shock of recognizing the piece.

When the last note faded into the air, the room was silent, then erupted into enthusiastic applause. I stood up and bowed humbly.

"That was a beautiful piece," Alexander approached and said. "Your composition?"

"No," I said, loud enough for those around to hear. "It was my mother's work. She was a talented composer, before she... became ill."

I looked at my father, whose eyes glistened with tears. Victoria stood beside him, her face ashen.

"I didn't know Elizabeth composed," a guest said.

"Oh yes," I replied. "She had many works. In fact, I've been organizing her sheet music recently. They're quite... inspiring."

Victoria walked quickly over, wearing a tight smile. "What a touching performance, Ella. Now, who wants some dessert?"

She tried to change the subject, but it was already too late. I had successfully brought my mother back into people's memories, no longer as a madwoman, but as a talented artist.

As the dinner ended, guests gradually left. I stood at the door to bid them farewell and accept their compliments on my performance.

Alexander was among the last guests to leave. When he approached, his gaze was deeper than before.

"You're an enigma, Ella Haston," he said in a low voice. "I want to solve you."

In my previous life, such words would have made my heart race. Now, I just smiled.

"Some puzzles are best left unsolved, Mr. Blake."

He handed me a business card. "If you change your mind, feel free to contact me anytime."

As he left, Victoria walked up beside me, the fake smile now gone from her face.

"What do you think you're doing?" she hissed.

"Just playing the piano," I replied innocently. "Didn't you ask me to perform?"

"You know what I mean. That piece..."

"It was my mother's," I said. "Is there a problem?"

Victoria moved closer, her voice low and dangerous. "Don't play with fire, Ella. You don't know what you're up against."

I looked straight into her eyes. "Perhaps it's you who doesn't know, Victoria."

I walked away from her toward the stairs, knowing I had won a small victory tonight. But the war had just begun.