Rewrite Her Thrilling Life (Lillian and Sebastian) novel Chapter 430

**TITLE: The Billionaire’s Last Obsession series 430**
**CONTENT: Chapter 430 Morgan’s Birthday Banquet, Part Three**

Henry’s voice rang out with conviction, “Absolutely. I truly believe that one day you will find your way back to the Sinclair family; your rightful place has always been here, waiting for your return.”

Morgan’s declaration sent ripples through the gathering, igniting murmurs and hushed conversations among the guests. It became abundantly clear that she had not yet made an official peace with the Sinclairs; there were layers to this narrative, secrets yet to be unveiled.

Vivian’s grip tightened around her wine glass, her knuckles whitening as a storm of resentment brewed within her. The thought of Morgan re-entering the Sinclair fold was unbearable. No, she thought fiercely, I cannot allow this insufferable wretch to reclaim her spot in the family. I will not let her snatch away everything my daughter has worked for. Not now, not ever.

“Is that so?” Lillian interjected with a mocking sneer, her voice dripping with disdain. “We shall see about that.”

Meanwhile, Julius stood a short distance away, observing the girl who had become the focal point of the hall. A shadow of inscrutable darkness flickered across his features, betraying the tumult of emotions roiling beneath the surface.

With many of Morgan’s old friends in attendance, he drifted towards them, eager to engage in conversation and momentarily escape the tension that hung in the air like a thick fog.

As the evening progressed, Lillian slipped away from the festivities, her heart guiding her up the staircase, retracing the steps of her memories until she reached a familiar door on the top floor. She pushed it open, revealing a room that had been meticulously cleaned and organized.

This was her mother’s old sanctuary. It was modest in size, adorned with a simple set of table and chairs, a bed positioned in the center, and curtains that danced with delicate floral patterns. However, the most striking feature was the wall lined with bookshelves, each one crammed with an eclectic assortment of books. Even after marrying Henry, her mother had clung to this space, transitioning from girlhood to adulthood, and even into the complexities of marriage. This small room had borne witness to her mother’s joys and heartaches alike.

Lillian approached the bookshelf, her fingers brushing against the spines of the books. They were a mix of medical texts and timeless classics, and she could almost envision her mother seated at the desk, a picture of tranquility, lost in the world of literature.

Atop the bed, a photograph of her mother as a young woman caught her eye. Lillian picked it up, her breath hitching in her throat. The girl in the image bore an uncanny resemblance to her, standing amidst a vibrant field of flowers, a gentle smile gracing her lips.

As nostalgia washed over her, Lillian opened the frame and discovered a single name inscribed in one corner: “Catherine.”

Beneath it lay a sequence of numbers that made her pause, a cryptic puzzle: “2-2, 3-8, 1-5.”

Just as she was about to delve into the contents of the notebook, the faint sound of footsteps echoed down the hallway, sending a jolt of alertness through her. Someone was approaching.

In a swift, instinctive motion, she concealed the notebook and key within her spatial storage, her heart pounding in her chest. The door creaked open.

Vivian stepped into the room, her eyes narrowing as she spotted Lillian at the desk. “What are you doing here?” she demanded, her tone sharp and accusatory.

Lillian, maintaining her composure, re-locked the drawer with deliberate care before rising to face Vivian, a cold smile playing on her lips. “This was my mother’s room. Do I really need your permission to enter?”

Vivian’s eyes widened, a flicker of disbelief crossing her features. “You opened that lock?”

Lillian shrugged nonchalantly, her indifference a mask for the tempest of emotions swirling within her. “Yeah. What’s so strange about that? Catherine was my mother. Is it so odd that I’d be curious enough to unlock the secrets she left behind?”