Back in the garden, Martin and Sabrina stood awkwardly, preparing to perform their daily groveling apology. Watching Lillian walk away and leaving them surrounded by cold-eyed bodyguards and maids—led by Martha, the very woman who used to manage their own household—filled them with a suffocating sense of humiliation.
"She... she's not even going to stay and watch? She just left?"
Sabrina seethed, her chest tight with indignation.
Martin was equally furious. They were subjecting themselves to this extreme degradation purely to show Lillian their remorse.
What was the point of doing it in front of a deranged woman who couldn't comprehend what was happening?
It made their submission feel entirely meaningless and utterly pathetic.
When Brandon returned from speaking with Lillian, Martin immediately turned to him, hoping he had negotiated a reprieve.
"What's going on with Lillian? What could possibly be more important than this? We're standing right here, ready to apologize!"
Brandon hadn't even brought up the apology to Lillian; he had only been focused on Noah.
"Dad, just do the apology. Lillian has her own work to do, and it doesn't conflict with this.
Hurry up. We're already late, and you saw how annoyed she was. Let's finish the routine so we can all get to work."
Martin felt a heavy stone of resentment lodge in his chest.
"But... she's gone. What's the point of apologizing now?"
Brandon sighed in frustration. He knew this was just an act to prove their subservience to Lillian, and without her there, it felt hollow.
"Dad, Lillian isn't here, but Eleanor is!


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