Pandora’s comeback was just too satisfying.
Octavia had never really treated her well. Sometimes, Claire wondered if Octavia had always known she wasn’t her real daughter.
“You!” Octavia’s face turned red with anger. She wasn’t used to being talked back to, especially not by some old woman from the countryside.
Claire couldn’t help thinking, Oh please, you’ve had this happen before. Latham’s own mother can’t stand you either.
“Claire, do you think I’m not worthy of being your mother?” Octavia shot back, turning all her frustration on Claire.
Claire met her gaze, totally unfazed. “Octavia, do you think I’m worthy of being your daughter?”
Of course, the answer was no. Octavia was completely thrown off by Claire calling her by her first name. She didn’t say anything, but Pandora could see exactly what she was thinking.
“Guests are still guests. Pearce, please invite them in and let them observe the ceremony from outside,” Pandora said, clearly not in the mood to argue with Octavia.
Pearce nodded politely. “Octavia, this way, please.”
The courtyard outside the ancestral hall was already set up with seats. Octavia was still fuming and wanted to storm out, but Cindy tugged her arm.
“Mom, let’s just stay, okay?”
Octavia couldn’t say no to her daughter, so she sat down, still stewing. Lance didn’t seem bothered at all. He was already seated, staring straight at Claire inside the hall. Claire, for her part, hadn’t shed a single tear or shown even a moment of discomfort since coming back here.
Inside, Pandora wrote Claire’s name into the family registry herself and, in front of everyone, announced, “From today on, Claire is the Young Matriarch of the James family. Treat her as you would treat me.”
“Greetings, Young Matriarch!” Everyone in the hall, young and old, bowed to Claire at once.
Claire could hardly believe it. This was what it meant to inherit a family legacy.

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