Chapter 1470


    The three people in the room turned as Thssa entered.


    Rosalind rose gracefully, a practiced smile ying on her lips. "Thssa," she cooed, her voice


    honeyed with charm, "I didn''t mean it that way. You''ve been such a help to Lysander and the


    Sinirs. I''m sure they''ll show their gratitude. You don''t need to worry about any benefits from us.


    Compared to the Sinirs, what could we possibly offer?"


    N?velDrama.Org content rights.


    Rosalind had a way with words, and as she locked eyes with Thssa, her gaze was liquid warmth,


    her smile brimming with intellect. It was a disy of breeding in every nuanced expression.


    When Thssa had first met Rosalind three years ago, she was struck by her poise, her elegance,


    and her well-read charm.


    She was everything Thssa felt she could never be.


    Back when Isabe Everhart and Faye Brennan taunted Thssa, calling her a bumpkin, she


    hadn''t cared much. She had written them off as mean-spirited, targeting her out of spite. But after


    meeting Rosalind, with her air of cultured grace and the unmistakable scent of academia about her,


    Thssa truly understood what it meant to be refined, to be a truedy raised in a world of privilege


    and high education.


    Standing before Rosalind, Thssa couldn''t help but feel like the epitome of a bumpkin.


    Even now, as Rosalind had muttered aint to Joshua, she seamlessly shifted her demeanor


    when facing Thssa, elevating her while slyly belittling her in the process.


    Everybody knew Thssa''s role with the Sinirs was hardly official; she was not Lysander''s wife.


    Her position was precarious at best, and the idea of receiving benefits from them was a stretch.


    Thssa met Rosalind''s gaze with a cool smile. "Thank you for your concern, dear Rosalind, but


    I''m quite capable of fending for myself without any handouts."


    "Of course," Rosalind replied, the picture of modesty. "You grew up in the countryside, handling


    everything life threw at you. You''ve weathered more storms than I''ve seen rainy days. I only know


    my arts andnguages—beyond that, I''m practically helpless."


    Thssa was speechless. Any attempt to argue would make her appear ungracious.


    "Come now, let''s not stand on ceremony. The meal''s ready," Joshua chimed in, gesturing for


    Thssa to take a seat at the dining table.


    Rosalind exchanged a knowing look with her mother, Matilda. Their silentmunication was a


    testament to their bond.


    At the table, Joshua took the head seat, with Thssa on the shorter side. Matilda and Rosalind sat


    opposite him, their cement clearly delineating family from outsider.


    Joshua served Thssa a generous helping of braised beef—tender and glistening with a rich,


    savory ze. "Eat up, Thssa. You''re too thin," he said with a smile.


    Though it was a sumptuous dish, Thssa felt a twinge of difort epting it from Joshua.


    Despite being her biological father, they shared no real emotional connection.


    Furthermore, a deep-rooted fear of her father lingered in her heart. She never reached out to


    Joshua and was wary of any kindness he showed.


    Instead of the beef, Thssa picked up a piece of steamed broli, biting into it with a crunch. "I''ve


    always preferred lighter meals," she exined. "Meat just isn''t my thing."