Heiress's High Society Comeback

Chapter 1686:

Seeing Carl, they were surprised and quickly rose to greet him. “Mr. Ford, we didn’t expect—how was your trip?”

“Apologies for keeping you waiting,” Carl said with his usual warm grace.

“Oh, not at all. We just got here ourselves,” Rachel's father, Harold, replied. “Rachel didn’t mention it. Had we

known you were coming, we would've cto meet you at the airport.”

Carl shook his head with a gentle smile. “That was my decision—I didn’t want to trouble anyone.”

Although Rachel's parents had been informed that the Fords were coming, they hadn't expected Carl himself to

appear.

Had they known, they certainly wouldn't have stayed put in the private room.

Whatever grievances they still harbored about the marriage, they understood what Carl's presence signified.

An elder of his age making the trip in person was no small gesture—it was a mark of respect, an indication that

the Ford family truly valued Rachel.

And as the realization settled over them, Rachel's parents found themselves quietly reassured.

Their daughter had married into a family that took her seriously. That alone was enough to bring them a measure

of peace.

During the meal, they kept up a courteous front, exchanging pleasant small talk with Jules’ family.

Halfway through the event, Corrine excused herself and slipped away to the restroom. On her return, she caught

sight of Jules leaning against a hallway pillar, a thin stream of smoke curling from the cigarette between his

fingers.

“What are you doing out here?”

Jules glanced over, exhaled, stubbed the cigarette out, and flicked it into a nearby trash can. “Didn't you catch

the Astleys’ vibe in there?”

Corrine gave a small nod. “I did.”

But what could anyone say?

The truth was, the Astleys had never endorsed the marriage. Rachel had made the decision on her own, and now

they bore the consequences like a grudge.

Corrine knew Jules wasn’t taking it well. She rested a hand on his shoulder. “Take it slow. Eventually, you'll have

to face them properly. Rachel is your wife now—that’s what matters.”

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“Not changing. Whether the Astleys like it or not, the wedding’s done. They had their chance to object. Accepting

the outcis on them.”

There was no denying it—the Astleys were being ungracious.

Their discontent was written in every sideways glance and pursed lip. But if they were truly against the union,

they should have intervened before the vows were exchanged. Allowing the marriage, then refusing to embrace

it, was a contradiction too bitter to ignore.

Later, after dessert had been served and the final glasses of wine sipped, Rachel's parents rose to leave. Franco

lingered behind to bid farewell to Carl.

On his way out, his gaze met Corrine’s across the room.

A silent understanding passed between them, and they stepped aside into a quiet corner.

“Miss Holland, I'm sorry we couldn’t be more hospitable tonight. Rachel was raised by her grandparents... and

they have reservations about this marriage...”

Franco trailed off, but Corrine didn’t need the rest filled in.

“The older generation always has their visions of how things should unfold,” she replied gently. “I understand.”

Franco exhaled, relieved by her grace. “I'll be at the Astley residence tomorrow morning. We'll be expecting

you.”

“Alright.”

As Franco left, Jules approached, his brows slightly raised. “What were you two whispering about?”

Corrine turned, a spark of playful mischief lighting her eyes. “Take a wild guess.”

Jules forced a smile. “You're plotting something again, aren’t you?”

A few steps away, Chelsea caught sight of Rachel’s reaction—the way her gaze lingered on Jules and Corrine.

“Don’t let it get to you. They've always been like this. I'll talk to Jules,” Chelsea said.

Once, this easy familiarity between Jules and Corrine might've been harmless. But now, he was married—and the

weight of that change meant Rachel's feelings couldn't be treated as an afterthought anymore.

Rachel could tell Chelsea feared she might be jealous. With a soft smile that held both reassurance and restraint,

she simply said, “It’s fine.”

But Chelsea hesitated, unsure if

Rachel's words sprang from sincerity

or mere courtesy. After a moment's

pause, she gently took Rachel's hand

and began walking feCtpviar the

7

rom, Dorin went through a lot

before she cback to the Ford

family. Her life wasn't easy.” She

didn't delve into the details—some

truths were too tangled for casual

conversation. Corrine’s past wasn't

something that could be summed up

in a few sentences. Only Corrine

herself could ever truly comprehend

the weight of what she'd endured.

“I'm not saying this to make you pity her,” Chelsea added with quiet emphasis. “I just hope... you can try to be a

little more understanding.”

Since Corrine had joined the Fords,

Jules had never once shown hergven

a hint of reseqtpaei fEanything, he

Had Burned fiercely protective,

standing firmly in her corner

whenever trouble dared to approach.

Though they were cousins, their bond ran deeper—closer than that of most siblings bound by blood.

Chelsea saw it clearly. The way Jules

looked out for Corrine reminded her

of a tlong past—of the - om

unshakaple,closenebs'she once

shafted with her brother, Arion. But

after his marriage, that closeness

had begun to fray, unraveling bit by

bit until the warmth between them

beca distant memory. The

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Rachel gave Chelsea's hand a reassuring squeeze. “I know how much Corrine means to Jules.”

She hadn’t resented it, not even for a moment. Never had she considered coming between them.

If it had truly bothered her, she wouldn't have stayed silent all this time.

Chelsea let out a slow breath, comforted by Rachel's calm. “I'm glad to hear that.”

For days, she had feared Rachel might secretly harbor bitterness over Jules and Corrine’s closeness.

She knew her son well. If ever forced to choose, Jules wouldn't hesitate—he’d choose Corrine.

In truth, it was already a miracle Rachel had beca part of the Ford family. Though she and Jules had no

romantic foundation to stand on, Chelsea—like any mother—had always hoped for the best.