?Chapter 577:


    Cheryl, on the other hand, while making sure Freya and Ethel were cared for, spent most of her time serving Hugh.


    Once the meal had ended, Cheryl headed off to slice some fruit.


    Hugh sat there, quietly grappling with emotions he couldn’t quite name. He hadn’t realized Cheryl had dismissed the housekeeper or how much effort she had poured into preparing such a feast.


    They sat for a while, snacking on fruit and exchanging idle chatter, letting the minutes drift by for over twenty minutes.


    Freya nced at the clock, sensing it was time to steer things toward the real matter at hand. “Ms. Newman, I’d like to talk to you in private, if that’s alright?”


    Cheryl blinked, momentarily surprised, then looked toward Hugh before replying, “Of course.” “Pleasee with me.”


    “Alright.”


    Cheryl’s demeanor remained warm and approachable.


    As she rose to follow Freya, she called out, “Vivien, please entertain Hugh and Ethel.”


    “I will,” Vivien replied smoothly, keeping her tone polite andposed. But for Hugh, things were different now. He no longer trusted her. Every time he looked at her, memories of her past lies and wild assumptions about him and Freya resurfaced.


    Despite his growing dislike for her, as her future stepfather, he kept his feelings carefully hidden.


    “Mr. Briggs.”


    Your update hub: g?lησν??s?c?m


    “What is it?”


    “I want to apologize sincerely for what I’ve done before,” Vivien said, her gaze steady and full of remorse. “I’m going to find a job and work hard. I hope you won’t think less of my mom because of me.”


    Hugh hesitated, caught off guard by her words.


    Vivien continued, “My mom really cares about you.”


    “I know,” Hugh replied, his expression shadowed with uncertainty.


    Vivien didn’t press the matter, only saying, “Thank you.”


    Hugh studied her quietly, emotion stirring under the surface, unsure of what to say.


    Meanwhile, Ethel, having kept her distance from Vivien ever since the earlier incidents, treated her coldly.


    She nced outside toward the yard, wondering how much longer her sister and Cheryl’s conversation would go on.


    Since everything that had happened, she had shifted from calling Cheryl by her first name to “Ms. Newman”—a subtle but firm disy of detachment.


    Out in the yard, Freya and Cheryl sat across from each other on patio chairs, a small round table between them.


    Cheryl seemed a little cautious, her tone carefully neutral. “What would you like to talk about?”


    She had thought about calling her Mina, but sensing Freya’s cool demeanor, she decided it was best to stick to the point.


    “It’s not a big issue, and since it’s just the two of us, I’ll be blunt,” Freya said, her voice calm and even. “Why did you choose to be with my dad?”


    Cheryl was visibly caught off guard.


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