The classes continued on schedule.
Every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday at nine a.m. sharp, the Winters family chauffeur delivered the two young ladies to the ivy-covered apartment building on the Upper East Side, picking them up again at one p.m.
Ryan Donovan did not appear again.
Catherine's initial enthusiasm deflated like a punctured balloon. Before the sting of the first class could fade, the relentless onslaught of dense reading lists and complex case studies completely eroded her patience.
"My head hurts."
"I didn't sleep well last night."
"The gown fitting is this afternoon; the seamstress is coming."
Her excuses for absence grew increasingly inventive and frequent. Professor Howard offered no comment, but on the days Catherine missed, his lectures accelerated, diving deeper, as if saying: those who want to learn will keep up.
And the one who "wanted to learn" was clearly Amelia.
Not only did she keep pace, she began to display an almost instinctual sharpness. She could swiftly grasp the crux of the cases Professor Howard presented; legal citations he mentioned often sparked related precedents in her mind. Though her foundation remained thin, her clear logic and fierce intellectual hunger earned silent nods from the old professor, who had seen many gifted students.
"Miss Winters," Professor Howard called out to Vivian once after class as she was organizing her notes, offering a few rare, additional words. "Your thoughts on balancing 'procedural justice' and 'substantive justice' are quite interesting. Idealistic, perhaps, but you've grasped the core. Keep thinking independently. Don't let the books cage you."
"Thank you, Professor." Vivian bowed her head respectfully, but a wave of emotion stirred within. This was the first acknowledgment she'd received on her path of vengeance from within the "professional field." A few casual words, yet they weighed more than anything.
When Catherine learned of this, she tore several pages from her notebook in fury. She wept to her mother, "That old man doesn't see me at all! Why does he only praise *her*? She's just a bastard!"
Margaret stroked her daughter's hair, her eyes dark pools. "What's the hurry? There's plenty of time. Let her jump for now. The higher she climbs, the harder she'll fall."
The turning point came on a seemingly ordinary Thursday afternoon.
Matthew returned to the mansion at an unusual, non-dinner hour and went straight to his father's study. Shortly after, Old William sent word: there were important guests that evening, and the entire family must attend dinner.
The atmosphere instantly became charged. Servants hurried about; the dining room was set with the most valuable china and crystal; even the air carried the distinctive aroma reserved for preparing the finest ingredients.
From Anna, Vivian learned that the Winters and Donovan families were joining forces to bid on a massive, government-led infrastructure project. The profits were astronomical, the background exceptionally complex, involving multiple interest groups. The client representatives were notoriously挑剔 and unpredictable, and the contract terms were riddled with pitfalls.
"I heard," Anna whispered, selecting an evening gown for Vivian, "that Master Matthew and Mr. Ryan couldn't secure it themselves. They had to ask the two elder gentlemen to step in personally. Mr. Ryan even specially invited Professor Howard to help identify legal traps in the contract."
Vivian's heart skipped a beat. Professor Howard was coming?
Indeed, that evening, the guests arrived in succession.
Old Mr. Donovan arrived first, engaging in a closed-door discussion with Old William in the study. Then, Ryan's car pulled into the courtyard, and stepping out with him was Professor Howard, wearing an old suit but looking exceptionally spirited.
The dinner was held in the most formal main dining room. The long table gleamed under candlelight, silverware shining. Old William sat at the head, with Old Mr. Donovan, Professor Howard, and Ryan on his left, and Margaret, Matthew, and Catherine on his right. Vivian's seat, as usual, was at the farthest end of the table, near the door.
Catherine had dressed meticulously for the evening in a champagne-colored gown, her jewelry sparkling. From the moment Professor Howard entered, she tried to attract his attention with her sweetest, most polished smile. The professor merely gave her a polite nod before his gaze moved on.
It wasn't until everyone was seated and Old William was introducing his family to Professor Howard that things changed.
Professor Howard, who had seemed somewhat distracted, brightened noticeably, a genuine smile appearing on his face. "Amelia, my student. William, this daughter of yours is quite remarkable."
The entire table fell silent.
Margaret's fingers tightened around her napkin. Catherine's smile froze, her eyes wide with disbelief. Matthew lifted his gaze, studying Vivian thoughtfully. Ryan lowered his eyes to cut the food on his plate, but the corner of his mouth lifted almost imperceptibly.
Old William was clearly also surprised. "Oh? What makes you say that, Professor?"
"She has talent, diligence, and, more importantly, she has ideas." Professor Howard did not stint on praise. He turned to Vivian, his tone familiar. "That supplementary thought you had on the boundary cases of 'Miranda warnings' in practical application we discussed last week—have you written it down? I'd very much like to see it."
Under the table, Vivian clenched her hand, feeling the heat of two nearly incendiary stares from the opposite end of the table. Maintaining her composure, she inclined her head slightly. "I've written some preliminary thoughts, but haven't had time to organize them properly for your review, Professor."
"Send them to me soon," Professor Howard said with enthusiasm. "I find your perspective quite illuminating. It might serve as an excellent starting point for a paper."
Old William looked at his stepdaughter, his expression complex. He had never imagined that this quiet, almost forgotten girl could earn the regard of someone like Arthur Howard in such a short time. This regard even surpassed the attention she might receive merely as a "Winters daughter."
Throughout the rest of the dinner, Professor Howard steered the conversation toward law and current affairs several times, naturally seeking Vivian's opinion. Though she spoke cautiously, each of her responses was substantive and logically clear, drawing interested glances from Old Mr. Donovan, who occasionally joined the discussion.
The center of gravity at the table had subtly shifted.
Catherine attempted to interject several times, but her comments were either too superficial or missed the mark, only serving to highlight Vivian's poised responses. The smile on Margaret's face grew more polished and colder. She frequently served dishes to the guests, skillfully steering the conversation toward Matthew's projects, Catherine's recent piano recital, trying to reclaim control. But Professor Howard's attention remained largely fixed on legal topics and Vivian.
Ryan spoke little, but when he did, his words cut to the heart of the matter, forming a seamless dialogue with Professor Howard and Vivian. He even extended one of Vivian's points to raise a more complex legal dilemma in business practice. The two engaged in a brief, low-voiced exchange about this hypothetical case. Though quiet, the specialized atmosphere they created was one others found difficult to penetrate, causing Catherine's expression to darken completely.
The dinner concluded in an atmosphere of surface harmony stretched over inner tension.
After seeing the guests off, Old William unusually called out to Vivian as she was about to go upstairs.
"Amelia."
"Father?"
Old William looked at her, seeming to want to say something. In the end, he only patted her shoulder. "Professor Howard thinks highly of you. Study hard. Don't disappoint his expectations, and don't… disappoint the Winters name."
"Yes, Father." Vivian bowed her head.
As she turned to ascend the stairs, she could feel the icy, piercing gaze on her back—from Margaret and Catherine standing in the shadows of the drawing room.
"How dare she?!" The moment they returned to her bedroom, Catherine smashed a crystal perfume bottle on her vanity. An overpoweringly sweet, almost suffocating scent instantly filled the room. "That old fool! And Mr. Donovan! What kind of spell has she cast on them? What is she? How dare she hold forth like that on such an occasion?!"
Margaret closed the door firmly, the mask of gentility completely gone from her face, replaced by cold fury and calculation.
"Calm down, Catherine. Breaking things solves nothing."
"Then what should we do, Mother?! Didn't you see the way Father looked at her tonight? And Old Mr. Donovan! If this continues, will there even be a place for us in this house?!"
"Precisely. We can wait no longer." Margaret walked to the window, looking out at the heavy night, her voice low but each word sharp as a blade. "She's drawing too much attention. Attention makes one prone to mistakes."
"You have a plan?" Catherine leaned in eagerly.
Margaret didn't answer immediately. Several thoughts flashed through her mind: the reports from Bella recently, Amelia's rigidly disciplined routine, Professor Howard's regard for her… and that mysterious "old family friend" she had Lillian secretly inquiring about.
"She wants to study law, doesn't she? She wants people to see how clever and diligent she is, doesn't she?" Margaret slowly turned, a cruel smile touching her lips. "Then let 'cleverness be her undoing.' Let her fall hardest in the very field where she feels most confident."
"How exactly?"
Margaret motioned for her daughter to lean closer and whispered a few instructions.
As she listened, Catherine's eyes gradually lit up, a smile mixing excitement and malice spreading across her face.
"Yes! That's it! I'll make sure she can never hold her head up in front of Professor Howard, Mr. Donovan, in front of all the important people—ever again!"