Zain's POV
Late that night, Ophelia Barth waved goodbye to the final guests and sank into the sofa.
She grabbed her phone, scrolling through Facebook, when Blanche Callum's nine-photo post caught her eye.
The cozy family gathering made Ophelia's blood boil.
Today marked Donovan Jacob's birthday, yet Blanche—his daughter-in-law—hadn't bothered coming home. Not even a text.
For years, Blanche had slaved in the kitchen, cooking for everyone. This year? She'd run home to mommy and daddy.
Ophelia's anger spiked. Too restless to sit, she marched upstairs, skipping the courtesy knock and barging into my study.
She slammed her phone beside me. "Explain this to me."
I glanced at it, my brow creasing. "What's wrong?"
Ophelia planted both hands on my desk, leaning over me. "Your father's birthday was today. She didn't say a word—just disappeared to her parents' place.
She married into this family. Every meal she eats, every piece of clothing she wears—the Jacobs provide it all.
