Chapter 177: Chapter 177: X-Rank Healing Light

Harper opened her mouth to argue again, her voice already softening into that familiar pitiful tremor she always used to manipulate Sebastian.

However, before she could speak another word, Sebastian lifted his hand with quiet authority.

“Betty’s words make a point.”

Betty looked at him briefly, then lowered her eyes again. On the surface, it appeared as though Sebastian was siding with her, but she knew him too well.

’He isn’t defending me. He’s watching. Observing. Enjoying the show like some sick spectator.’

Her father wasn’t simple. He never was. He was far more intelligent and twisted than he ever pretended to be.

He knew everything… every scheme, every lie, every manipulation in this house… yet he watched it all unfold from the sidelines whenever it pleased him.

’Maybe… maybe he blames Harper deep inside for my mother’s death. Maybe he brought her into this house just to watch her suffer too.’

The thought scraped through her heart like a blade.

’Or maybe he just wants to see us destroy each other. Maybe punishing us gives him a sense of satisfaction, like he’s feeding justice to ghosts that cannot speak.’

Harper’s voice broke her thoughts.

“Betty is misunderstanding,” Harper insisted gently. “Why would I ever harm her? Betty is like a daughter to me.”

Betty nearly gagged. ’Daughter? You want me dead.’

But she swallowed the urge to retch and remained still.

Harper cleared her throat delicately and continued, her hands folded demurely.

“If Betty doesn’t wish to marry Elias, I won’t force her. But she must understand she is already twenty-one. It’s time she thinks about engagement and securing her future.”

Betty lifted her gaze sharply at that, eyes glinting like cold steel, before she lowered her head again, waiting for Sebastian’s decree.

He always denied her the right to get engaged.

Not because he cared about her well-being. Not because he wanted her to be free.

But because he wanted every “culprit” tied to her mother’s death, and that included Harper, Sophia, and Betty herself, under his watch. He wanted every pawn on the board sitting where he could reach them, punish them, and relive his twisted grief whenever he desired.

Finally, Sebastian spoke, calm and controlled.

“Betty is still young. This matter can be put on hold for now.”

He stood slowly, creating a heavy silence in the room. His gaze slid to Betty, sharp as a blade.

“You maliciously caused Sophia to consume breakthrough herbs directly.”

“During your next breakthrough, you will do the same. Or you can forget about being heir.”

Betty’s nails dug into her palms until warm blood welled between her fingers. She forced herself to nod.

Sebastian chuckled softly, a sound that made her stomach twist. He enjoyed this. He truly, deeply enjoyed watching her struggle.

Sometimes, when he looked at her, Betty noticed a flicker of softness in his eyes, as though he glimpsed her mother in her features.

Other times, the hatred surged again, burning brighter, because in his mind, Betty symbolized his wife’s betrayal and suicide.

He loved and hated her in the same breath. And Betty had accepted that a long time ago.

Sebastian knew the throne mattered deeply to Betty, and forcing her to hurt herself to keep the position was just another way to watch her burn for his entertainment.

Even though every fiber of her being resisted his condition, she still nodded like an obedient daughter.

Seeing this, Sebastian smiled with palpable satisfaction and walked away.

Harper’s gentle facade melted the moment he vanished. She stared at Betty with narrowed eyes that gleamed like knives.

’If she dies consuming herbs… then Sophia’s path will be clear.’

With a sweet smile that masked her malice, Harper turned and left.

Once alone, Betty lowered her gaze, cold determination glinting beneath her lashes.

’When I become heir… both of you will pay. Father. Harper. I’ll make sure you pay.’

In her room, Harper calmly forwarded the conversation recording to Layla. The moment she hit send, she typed softly:

“Do you still believe Betty will ever acknowledge you?”

Meanwhile, far away in a leaking, dimly lit room, Lalya curled her fingers around her phone. Her breath trembled as she pressed play.

Betty’s voice echoed through the speaker. Cold. Detached. Denying again.

Layla’s vision blurred with tears. She lowered her eyes, unable to watch or hear more, because she knew, deep in her heart, that Betty must have reasons.

She always had reasons.

Yet… disappointment gnawed through her. Pain spread across her chest until breathing felt like swallowing fire.

This was the seventieth recording Harper had sent her. Seventy times hearing Betty deny their relationship. Seventy times doubting if she meant anything at all.

Slowly, painfully, Layla began to wonder if Betty had ever loved her truly… or if she had been nothing but a temporary distraction.

Her fingers trembled. Her heart felt like it was splitting.

Finally, she clenched her fists and whispered to herself:

“It’s time… I should break up with her.”

Elsewhere, unaware of the storm in Betty’s life, Lana blinked in astonishment.

Earlier, when she channeled her energy, a dull fatigue lingered in her limbs.

But now, as the healing light flowed through her body, she felt every trace of exhaustion evaporate, as if someone had replaced her blood with pure vitality. Her body felt lighter, fresher, almost euphoric.

She murmured softly: “This healing light… is truly amazing.”

Mr. Crow watched in silent horror.

’This child is wasting an X-rank healing ability… to get rid of sleepiness. Why am I even surprised anymore? She is hopeless.’

He sighed dramatically, but allowed her to enjoy her newfound energy.

They went downstairs together. As Lana stepped into the dining area and saw Lucian seated at the head of the table, her heart lurched violently.

’No, no, no… why is he here so early?’

She instinctively took a step backward, intending to flee.

Lucian lifted his gaze and called out gently:

“Lana, where are you going? Come have breakfast before you leave.”

She froze mid-step, then slowly pivoted and walked back with the grace of a puppet being dragged by an invisible string.

She forced a composed smile, sat down carefully, and looked at the breakfast laid out before her.

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