Chapter 57-Isn't My Home on a Poor Farm?

Katelyn’s POV The cold wind tugged at my sleeves as I stood silently beside the dented Rolls-Royce. Jack, the driver, crouched near the hood with grease on his cheek and dirt streaking his already wrinkled suit pants. He had insisted on checking the engine after the door mishap, muttering something about a loose joint and swearing it had never happened before. When he finally stood, wiping his hands with a cloth, he pulled out a slightly crushed gift box from the backseat. The bow had been bent, and the wrapping paper was creased, but his expression was sincere. “This is for your father,” he said, holding the box carefully as if it still held its dignity. “A thank-you gift. Your adoptive family took care of you all these years. It’s only right to show our gratitude.” I stepped toward Jack, reaching out for the box, but something about the moment made me pause. His hands were smudged, the gift slightly crushed, but his eyes held no mockery, just warmth. And gratitude. Real, unfiltered g