Chapter 4

At first glance, she did bear a striking resemblance to a young Emilia Thomas.  No wonder things had taken such a melodramatic turn, with a mere facial similarity leading to a paternity test. "Brisa, you're back!" Emilia fidgeted with her clothes, eager to put her guest at ease. "Don't worry, make yourself at home here." Then, she turned to Deborah. "Deborah, come over here. Mommy wants to talk to you." As soon as Brisa heard the name "Deborah," she stiffened up. She looked up to see a girl of her own age walking casually into the dining room. Dressed in a white gown, Deborah stood tall and proud with an icy but elegant aura.  Her porcelain face was delicate without any makeup. Her features were exquisite, and her eyes were clear and beautiful. And those narrow phoenix eyes, with their subtle upward tilt and soft brown hue, seemed to exude both frigidity and recklessness. Brisa Brown's body went rigid as she clenched her hand tightly by her side. The clothes she wore probably cost no more than a hundred bucks in total, however this girl in front of her was clad in a designer dress worth tens of thousands! Yet, these were all supposed to be hers, but this girl named Deborah had robbed her of everything. Brisa took a deep breath and lowered her gaze, concealing her hatred. Deborah cast a nonchalant glance at Brisa, pretending not to notice the malice in her eyes. She approached Brisa with a faint smile and asked, "Is she the guest we're expecting?" Emilia froze for a moment, unsure how to explain. She couldn't be too absolute about it until the paternity test results were confirmed.  Even though she and Trevon had already acknowledged Brisa as their biological daughter. Emilia managed a forced smile and gave a vague response, "Her name is Brisa. She's the daughter of a friend of your dad's, staying with us for a few days." Brisa timidly spoke up, "Hello, sister. My name is Brisa Brown." "Oh." Deborah replied indifferently, "Are you hungry? Let's go eat, the food is getting cold." Brisa's face stiffened once again. D*mn it! How dare she talk to her in such a manner as if she were the mistress of the house! Who did she think she was? She, Brisa, was the true daughter of the Brown family!  Hmph! Just wait until the paternity test results came out, then they shall see how arrogant she could still be! Brisa took a deep breath and obediently responded with a seemingly docile tone. Emilia hurriedly led her to the dining room and said, "You must be tired after such a long journey. I have prepared many dishes that you like. Please try them!" Trevon unbuttoned his suit and followed along. Upon seeing the mess on the table, he was instantly enraged. "What is going on here?" Brisa looked up and saw more than a dozen dishes on the table, each one had been picked at and looked like it had been eaten by someone. Aunt Zara stood tremblingly and said, "Sir, Ms. Deborah said she was hungry and couldn't wait for you, so she ate first." Trevon was furious, glaring at Deborah. "Deborah! What happened to your manners? Haven't I taught you better than this?" Deborah sat on the sofa, looking innocent. "Sorry, I didn't know we had guests coming. Dad, what's wrong with you today? I've eaten before without waiting for you, and you've never been so angry. Did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed today?" Trevon's breath caught in his chest as he nearly fainted. "Deborah!" Emilia scolded her with a stern glare. She then turned to comfort Trevon, "Come on, don't be mad at the child. Let's eat first, Brisa must be hungry." Trevon cast a quick glance at Brisa and his expression softened. "Aunt Zara, bring another set of utensils," he instructed. Aunt Zara hurriedly brought clean utensils and placed them in front of Brisa. "Ms. Benson, enjoy your meal," she said. Trevon frowned at the mention of Brisa's name, "Call her Ms. Brown." Aunt Zara hesitated for a moment before complying with his request. Deborah sat on the couch, expressionless, watching everything unfold. Trevon was practically itching to confirm Brisa's identity before the DNA test results were out. He seemed desperate to make it official so that Aunt Zara would have no choice but to address her as "Ms. Brown."