Chapter 292: Looking Down on the Joyce Family
For the past few days that Yvonne Donovan had been in the hospital, Simon Sterling had canceled all his social engagements to stay by her side, tending to her every need.
Their marital bond was deep. No wonder Mrs. Joyce was envious.
"You’ve been chatting all morning. You must be thirsty."
Simon Sterling sat by the hospital bed and handed his wife a cup of hot water.
"I have to say, you two can really talk. If I hadn’t given her a subtle hint, she would have sat here chatting with you until nightfall."
Yvonne Donovan took the cup and drank a few sips. In high spirits, she leaned back against the headboard with a faint smile in her eyes.
"It’s not often I have an old classmate who’s so completely on my side. Every word she said resonated with me, so of course I was happy to keep talking."
Simon Sterling asked, puzzled, "Why did she suddenly show up at our house out of the blue?"
Yvonne Donovan replied, "We’re old classmates who haven’t seen each other in a long time. She said she was in the area and dropped by to see me. That’s perfectly normal. What’s wrong?"
Simon Sterling nodded pensively. "I thought she was here to fish for information."
Yvonne Donovan said with a hint of reproach, "You’re being too suspicious. She spent the whole time worrying about me and trying to comfort me. She wasn’t probing for anything."
After a moment of silence, Simon Sterling suddenly thought of something.
"Doesn’t the Joyce Family have a daughter?"
Yvonne Donovan’s eyes lit up as she nodded. "Yes! Her name is Ivy Joyce. I just ran into her at a coffee shop last week. The girl just got back from overseas. She’s polite, sensible, graceful, and proper. She kept calling me ’Mrs. Donovan’ so warmly."
Speaking of Ivy Joyce, Yvonne Donovan’s interest was suddenly piqued. She tentatively asked her husband, "Simon, what do you think of the Joyce family’s daughter?"
Simon Sterling answered matter-of-factly, "I’ve never met her, so I don’t know."
Yvonne Donovan let out an exasperated, "Oh, honestly! I’m not asking you to judge her as a person. I mean, what do you think of the Joyce family’s daughter and our Sean... together?"
Simon Sterling’s brow furrowed. "An arranged marriage?"
"Mhm," Yvonne Donovan confirmed. It was an idea she’d had on the spur of the moment.
Simon Sterling immediately shot it down, looking down on the Joyce Family. "Absolutely not. They’re too low-tier."
"They’re not that low-tier, are they?" Yvonne Donovan said. "They’re considered a notable family in Aston. Their business has been growing these past two years, and they’re wealthy merchants. They’re much better off than Isla Griffith’s family. A lot better."
At the mention of Isla Griffith, Simon Sterling’s expression darkened, his disapproval of her even more apparent.
However, he didn’t approve of the Joyce Family either, his tone dripping with contempt.
"That little enterprise the Joyce Family has? You call that a business? In Aston, they’re merely mid-tier, propped up by a few commercial properties and restaurants. Their risk tolerance is pathetic."
"A marriage alliance with the Joyce Family would turn the Sterling Family into their personal ATM. It would be all outflow and no inflow."
Yvonne Donovan disagreed. "You’re exaggerating. An ATM? The Joyce Family are wealthy merchants, not some minor household or nouveau riche. They have some foundation. Who’s to say their business won’t grow bigger in the future?"
"Grow bigger?" Simon Sterling scoffed, his tone full of confident derision. "With the Joyce Family’s meager assets and business model, they can forget about ever catching up to us in this lifetime."
Seeing her husband’s imperious expression that permitted no argument, Yvonne Donovan grew upset. She turned her head away, feeling sullen.
"Fine, you’re right about everything. Just pretend I never said anything."
Simon Sterling noticed his wife was upset and quickly leaned closer, coaxing her in a low, soft voice.
"Look at you. Are you getting angry just because your old classmate is Mrs. Joyce and I look down on her family?"
"Alright, alright, I take it all back. The Joyce Family does have some strength and potential. If they continue to develop, they’ll surely have a bright future."
Only then did Yvonne Donovan’s mood improve slightly. She couldn’t resist poking her husband’s arm a few times.
"You know, your standards are so high they’re almost unreasonable."
Simon Sterling smiled and leaned in to whisper in his wife’s ear, "Well, who’s to blame for giving me such an outstanding son? He has the looks and the ability. An ordinary woman could never be worthy of being your daughter-in-law."
His words were enough to placate Yvonne Donovan. She leaned into her husband’s embrace and slowly calmed down.
"I was just speaking on a whim earlier, it was only a casual suggestion. I don’t actually intend to force Sean to marry the Joyce family’s daughter."
Simon Sterling hummed in acknowledgment as the tension in his brow eased. He took his wife’s hand in his.
"You’re still recovering. Don’t tire yourself out worrying about these things. We can discuss the marriage alliance later."
Yvonne Donovan sighed. "I don’t want to worry either, but our son won’t listen to us. If we let this drag on, Isla Griffith’s belly will get bigger by the day. What will we do then? It’s worrying me to death."
Simon Sterling’s gaze turned cold in an instant, a sharp glint flashing in his eyes.
"The check you wrote her last time... how much was it for?"
"Ten million."
"That’s not enough."
"..."
"Write one for a hundred million. I refuse to believe she won’t be tempted."
Yvonne Donovan froze for a second, then looked up at her husband, her eyes wide with astonishment.
"A hundred million? Simon, isn’t that too much?"
The expression on Simon Sterling’s face was so calm it was almost cold. "Anything that can be solved with money isn’t a problem."
"Isla Griffith’s motives for getting close to Sean were never pure to begin with. As long as the price is right, she’ll know to back off. You simply didn’t offer her enough last time."
Yvonne Donovan shook her head, feeling it wasn’t that simple.
"But what if Isla Griffith refuses? She’s aiming for the position of the Sterling family’s young mistress."
"Marrying Sean would get her far more than a hundred million. She’s a sharp one; she’s surely done the math already."
Upon hearing this, the corners of Simon Sterling’s mouth lifted into a humorless smile.
"She refuses? Then she’d better think carefully about the price of offending the Sterling Family, and whether she and her family can afford to pay it."
"Sean is my son, Simon Sterling’s son, and the sole heir to the Sterling Family. His marriage, his future—those are for us to decide. He will not be tied down by some social-climbing woman."
Yvonne Donovan’s heart trembled as she listened.
She only wanted Isla Griffith to take the hint and leave. She had never considered going after her family.
"If we push too hard, Sean will surely hate us."
"He’s never liked anyone this much in his entire life."
Simon Sterling’s jaw tightened. "Better he hate us for a while than ruin his entire life."
"When he’s firmly established as the head of the Sterling Family, he’ll understand that everything we’re doing today is for his own good. As for Isla Griffith..."
Simon Sterling’s eyes darkened, a cold chill swirling in their depths.
"A hundred million is the last shred of dignity I’m offering her. If she still doesn’t know what’s good for her, she can’t blame me for being ruthless."
***
Isla Griffith sneezed five times in a row.
She was dressed warmly and even had a blanket over her. It was impossible that she’d caught a cold.
That could only mean one thing: someone was talking badly about her behind her back.
’...’
Isla Griffith put down her phone and lazily sat up from the sofa, bored and unsure of what to do.
During the day, Sean Sterling went to the office and didn’t come back until evening, leaving a housekeeper at home to look after her.
Ever since she got pregnant, she had lost her freedom. She stayed home every day with nothing to do, all under the guise of "nurturing the pregnancy."
She had to ask Sean Sterling for permission to go out, and he would arrange for a private driver to take her. He wouldn’t let her drive herself, much less take a cab.
Isla Griffith knew Sean Sterling was doing this out of concern for her, not to imprison her.
She complied sensibly, not wanting to upset him over such minor things.
But...
As time went on, Isla still felt a little... off.
’It’s like I’ve become Sean Sterling’s caged canary.’
Isla Griffith rubbed her nose and gazed at the unchanging scenery outside the window. The slight unease in her heart slowly fermented into a vague, stifling feeling.
She reached out and placed a hand on her flat stomach.
Here, she was carrying her and Sean Sterling’s child. She could see just how overjoyed he was about it.
Sean Sterling showered her with endless tenderness, doting affection, and care. A housekeeper waited on her, and she never had to worry about food, clothing, or shelter—everything was the best money could buy.
She had a life others could only dream of, and it was all right at her fingertips.
Yet the more she had, the emptier Isla Griffith felt.
Before, she’d had her own life, her own ambitions, her own freedom.
Now, her world had shrunk to the confines of this exquisite, luxurious house. Her entire life revolved around Sean Sterling and the baby in her belly.
It wasn’t that Isla Griffith was ungrateful, but she occasionally felt lost.
Lost in her reverie, her phone rang, the sound shattering her thoughts.
Isla Griffith picked up her phone. There was no contact name on the screen, just an unknown number.
She hesitated for a few seconds before pressing the answer button.
"Hello?"
The other end of the line was silent.
Isla Griffith frowned. Her tone was still polite as she said, "Say something."
There was still only silence from the other end.
Isla’s patience wore thin, and her voice grew cold. "What’s the point of calling if you’re not going to talk?"
"Isla Griffith, is that you?" A voice finally came from the other end, as faint as mist, making it impossible to tell if it was a man or a woman.
Isla Griffith gripped her phone tighter, asking warily, "Who is this?"