CHAPTER 182: CHAPTER 182: (3000+)

Vera originally planned to invite Noah to accompany her back to her hometown, which was also a kind of signal.

If he agreed to go, their relationship as boyfriend and girlfriend would be more or less confirmed.

Now, with his trip to and from Bernheim taking two or three days, he probably wouldn’t make it back in time.

Vera still mentioned it, "In a couple of days, it’s my mother’s anniversary, and I need to go back to Tristone."

On the other end, it seemed Noah didn’t even pause to think, his tone quick and serious, "Vera, my return is uncertain, let’s leave it at that for now, I have another call coming in."

The call ended.

Vera was taken aback, the smile on her lips froze, and she incredulously put down her phone. Looking at the screen as it reverted to the lock screen, a faint sense of loss spread like vines from the depths of her heart, gradually occupying her entire heart.

He heard her but didn’t react, just hurriedly hung up.

However, it should be because the matter in Bernheim was too urgent.

She took a deep breath, ready to turn and leave.

"Vera! I’ve been looking for you!"

A familiar female voice snapped her back to reality.

Vera looked in the direction of the voice and saw her mentor, Wendy Donovan, walking out from around the corner, smiling and waving at her, "Come on over. Just now I ran into your Mr. Conrad by chance under the stage. She came specifically to watch your competition and couldn’t stop praising you! We have to have a meal together!"

Beside Wendy was the famous national dance artist, and state-level dancer, Katherine Conrad.

This Mr. Conrad was dressed in a black tight turtleneck sweater paired with dark brown wide-leg pants, her waist was a slim sixteen inches, the golden ratio many dancers dream of.

Her skin was fair and delicate, and upon closer inspection, there were only a few fine wrinkles at the corners of her eyes.

And she was already in her fifties.

This artist had remained unmarried and childless for the sake of dance.

Vera approached them warmly, greeting them enthusiastically and didn’t decline Wendy’s invitation; the three of them arranged to have a meal together.

In Katherine Conrad’s view, among young dancers, Vera was one of the rare ones who genuinely loved dance, as most pursued it for fame and fortune.

Only she, like her, was a dance enthusiast.

"Vera, I wish you gold in Lorraine!" Katherine Conrad raised a glass of champagne, sincerely toasting Vera.

Vera clinked glasses with her, "Thank you, Mr. Conrad. I’ll first do my best in the final selection round."

Katherine Conrad knew she was being modest, and the two downed their glasses.

The light in Wendy’s eyes shimmered with tears, "Katherine, my Vera has never let me down. These past two or three years have been truly difficult for her... rehabilitation, closed training... Fortunately, she pulled through, it wasn’t easy."

Vera rested her head on her shoulder, like a mother and daughter, "Professor Donovan, it’s all in the past now. However, I’m also grateful for the foot injury I suffered back then; it makes me cherish each stage performance even more."

Wendy kissed her forehead, "Good girl, you’ve never forgotten to be yourself first."

Vera’s nose tingled, and she embraced her in return.

The difficulties of early life forced her to become self-reliant, but without Professor Donovan’s guidance and support, she wouldn’t be who she is today.

...

On the internet, the issue of Vivian Langdon’s shoes being tampered with by thumbtacks was still being fervently discussed. However, due to the previous incident, and Noah’s intervention, no one dared to suspect Vera.

Only Vivian’s fans suspected Vera, disliking her but unable to do anything about it.

They only dared to vent in their fan groups.

"The more I think about it, the angrier I get! Vivian bled so much, it broke my heart! What’s the use of the official statement? The surveillance didn’t catch it? Ha, whose surveillance is that?"

"Isn’t it obvious? A certain ’senior sister’ has strong backing! From her comeback to now, she’s had incredible resources, trending whenever she wants, scandals disappearing instantly, and now even the surveillance speaks for her!"

"I heard her powerful boyfriend from The Capital Circle comes from an influential family, can cover the sky with one hand~ To elevate her, what wouldn’t he do? Bullying our Vivian for not having a family background to rely on!"

"Every time I see her looking so aloof, it makes me sick! I really want to kill her!"

Villa, bedroom.

Vivian Langdon leaned back on the sofa, her right foot propped on a footstool. The site of the thumbtack wound had long healed.

Upon seeing a fan in the fan group say "I really want to kill her!", she couldn’t help but glance at the familiar avatar and then clicked into the person’s homepage.

Upon seeing their tweet repost on the homepage, Vivian’s eyes suddenly lit up, and her heart began to race.

Half a year ago, this fan named "Darknight’s Justice," to protect her, had thrown excrement at a female celebrity and was criminally detained.

The incident arose when Vivian participated in a travel variety show, and during filming, a female celebrity had a disagreement with her over differing opinions, which was all scripted, but the fans took it seriously.

Vivian narrowed her eyes and sent a private message to this "Heaven’s Justice."

"Hello, I am Vivian Langdon. I just saw your remarks in the group and truly appreciate your support for me. Your sincerity really moved me, and I keep it in my heart."

"However, please, please do not do anything extreme for my sake anymore. I sincerely don’t want you to experience any further harm."

"Seeing what you’ve previously gone through... because of me, made me very uncomfortable. You’ve already done more than enough for me, and I will forever remember your kindness."

"It’s my incompetence, getting injured unexpectedly, losing my only chance to compete in Lorraine, letting down your efforts."

The message was sent and marked as read.

Vivian immediately exited Weibo, locked the screen, her face devoid of expression.

...

Vera’s hometown is in Tristone. The day before the memorial, she flew to Tristone and stayed in a guesthouse.

The next day, at nine in the morning, she met Owen at the cemetery entrance.

At that time, the autumn air was fresh and clear.

Vera was dressed in a sharply tailored black suit, which accentuated her slender, upright figure.

She wore no makeup, her long hair tied into a simple low ponytail at the back of her head, revealing a clean forehead and elegant swan neck.

In her hand, she carried a tote bag from which a bouquet of tulips peeped out.

Owen got out of the car, dressed in the same all-black suit. His sunglasses covered most of his face, but couldn’t hide the tense outline of his jawline, and he held a bouquet of fresh flowers tightly in his hand.

Two years ago, his hasty engagement with Carla Thorne ended without a trace.

Without the backing of Ian, The Thorne Family parents refused to let Owen and Carla be together. Under the pressure of Mrs. Thorne threatening to take her own life, Carla eventually succumbed to her parents’ pressure and broke up with Owen.

Not long after, Carla married a partner who could support The Thorne Family’s business.

In the past two years, Owen has devoted himself fully to the field of architecture, and has now won the Pritzker Prize, known as "the Nobel of Architecture," truly establishing himself in the industry.

Rather than being the young designer of the past who was unknowingly admired due to his brother-in-law’s resources.

"Sis!" When he got close, Owen took off his sunglasses, his lips curled into a smile, revealing a row of white teeth. He glanced around, "Just you alone?"

Vera smirked, "Didn’t I tell you, it’s just me."

Owen thought to himself, he wondered if Noah would suddenly show up.

Over the past two days, Vera had sent him messages, but his work in Bernheim seemed unusually busy, and he hadn’t replied.

The siblings said no more and climbed the steps side by side, entering the solemn cemetery.

A few steps away, Vera’s footsteps paused slightly.

She saw that offerings had already been placed in front of her mother Skye Winslow’s grave.

A bouquet of colorful, rare tulips was carefully placed in the middle, with a platter of fruit nearby containing three plump apples and pomegranates.

Three sticks of incense were inserted in the incense burner, wisps of smoke curling up, obviously lit not long ago.

Owen also saw it, and his brows furrowed instinctively as he quickly scanned the empty cemetery surroundings, seeing no one.

He took a few steps to the grave, crouched down, and carefully looked at the vibrant yet incongruous bouquet of tulips.

Vera’s gaze also fell on those flowers, her expression slightly hardened.

From as far back as she could remember, her mother had particularly loved tulips. Every year as winter approached, her mother would plant a section of bulbs in the garden, and come spring, a brilliant sea of flowers would bloom in the yard.

The siblings exchanged glances, and Owen raised a brow, "Shall we throw it away?"

They both knew that besides Ian, there wouldn’t be anyone else.

However, it shouldn’t have been him who came in person.

After a brief silence, Vera said calmly, "Leave it."

She crouched down and moved the tulips and offerings aside, placing theirs instead.

Not far away, behind a pine tree, Justin held a phone, secretly recording them.

"Kane, I’ve completed the task you gave me. The Sheridan siblings have arrived," he reported.

After sending the video to Ian, Justin grumbled: "What’s wrong with him!"

Even though they’ve divorced, he still makes me come and pay respects to a former mother-in-law he’s never met every year on this day!

Valdania, three in the morning.

Ian was still processing documents, the cold light from the computer screen reflecting off his well-defined profile, a faint weariness under his eyes.

The phone screen lit up; it was the video from Justin.

Ian opened the video, his fingers zooming in on the screen, greedily capturing Vera’s subtle expressions.

But he only saw her coldly move his bouquet of tulips aside.

A sharp bitterness rushed to his nose, and his eyes instantly reddened.

Memories surged from the past.

After they got married, he accompanied her from Ardendale to Tristone to visit the grave, at that time, she held his arm walking up the cemetery steps, telling him, "Mom likes tulips the best, much better than the cold white chrysanthemums."

Back then, he smiled and replied to her, "Got it, my mother-in-law likes tulips."

But now, times have changed.

Ian snapped back to reality, slammed the phone screen face down on the table, took a deep breath, and forced himself to continue dealing with the unresolved work.

...

Owen was called away by a phone call, leaving Vera alone crouched in front of her mother’s grave, her fingertips gently caressing the yellowed photograph on the headstone.

"Mom, Owen and I are doing well, we’re both busy with our careers... He truly won a very prestigious architectural award, he’s the new star in architecture design now."

Vera’s voice was gentle, as if whispering secrets on her mother’s lap from her childhood, "After eight years, I’m... I’m going back to Lorraine’s stage."

"I’ve also found new love... except..."

Before she could finish, there was suddenly a sound like a dry branch snapping behind her, rustling.

Instinctively, Vera turned her head.

In an instant, her pupils shrank rapidly!

Under the bright day, a tall figure was wearing a black raincoat, the brim of the hat pressed extremely low, revealing only a square chin.

The person was tightly clutching a transparent glass bottle in his right hand, with more than half of a bottle of turbid, viscous yellow liquid inside, shaking violently with his movements, reflecting an unsettling oily sheen in the sunlight.

A sharp, acrid smell, like rotten eggs, suddenly pierced her nostrils!

Sulfuric acid?

Vera was horrified!

Without any time to think, she impulsively braced against the headstone and stood up, intending to flee!

But the person’s movements were faster, leaping forward in a few steps, ruthlessly grabbing her long hair and yanking it back harshly!

A ripping pain shot through her scalp, forcing her to lift her face skyward.

The next second, the hand holding the bottle mercilessly lifted, ready to douse her face...