The Jilted Heiress' Return to the High Life - Chapter 495

Chapter 495:

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“Yes, it’s mine.”

Meg’s voice was light, almost casual.

“Now that it’s been found, should you not apologize to Farley?”

Her smile remained sweet, yet there was an unmistakable sharpness beneath it.

Leah’s expression froze. She stared at Meg in disbelief. Had she heard correctly?

Meg wanted her to apologize to a child?

She had acted rashly, accusing the boy without proof, but to be humiliated like this—apologizing in front of everyone—felt excessive. Meg, unbothered by Leah’s hesitation, tilted her head slightly.

“Are you unwilling?”

Leah clenched her jaw, lowering her gaze to mask the resentment burning in her eyes.

“Of course not…” Gritting her teeth, she crouched before Farley and forced out a saccharine tone.

“I am sorry. I should not have accused you. How about I give you this as an apology?”

She held out the diamond hairpin.

Farley’s eyes narrowed before he scoffed and swatted her hand away.

“I do not need your junk!”

Leah’s smile twisted, and anger flashed in her eyes. Her nails dug into her palm, but she swallowed the sharp words rising to her tongue.

𝗡𝗲𝘄 𝗽𝗮𝗽𝗲𝗿𝘀 𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗺𝗮𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝗶𝗻 g𝓪l𝗇ovè𝗅𝓈.𝓬𝗈𝗺

Meg chuckled softly, ruffling Farley’s hair.

“Children are more perceptive than we give them credit for. They can tell the difference between genuine kindness and empty gestures.”

Leah stiffened at the jab but had no choice but to endure it.

“You are right.”

“Alright, it’s getting late. We should be going.” Meg turned to the director.

“It’s getting late. No need to see us off, but if you run into any issues, do not hesitate to call me.”

Once aboard the bus, Corrine took a seat by the window. As the vehicle rumbled to life, a sleek Mercedes glided past.

Through the half-open window, Corrine caught sight of the man inside. Time had done little to change him. He was still as striking as ever, his sharp gaze carrying an air of quiet authority. There was something about his eyes, something that had not faded since his youth.

Then, as if sensing her stare, he turned.

His piercing gaze locked onto hers with an intensity that sent a chill racing down her spine. It was as if an invisible force gripped her throat, making it difficult to breathe.

“Mr. Holland, we have arrived,” the driver announced.

Dewey Holland barely acknowledged the words. His cold eyes remained fixed on the retreating bus, a flicker of something unreadable in their depths.

“Find out everything about that bus,” he ordered, his voice low and clipped.

Though it had been nothing more than a passing glimpse, something about that woman unsettled him. There was something eerily familiar about her.

The bus swayed gently along the road, its rhythmic motion lulling the passengers into an uneasy silence. Leah occasionally attempted small talk with Meg, her voice light, almost casual.

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