My Unborn Baby Chose My Husband for Me novel Chapter 110

It was a text from Lucian.

"How did the meeting go?"

Seraphina stared at the words on her screen, unable to stop the bright smile spreading across her lips.

She typed a few words, deleted them, and finally sent back:

"I think it went really well."

Less than three seconds later, Lucian's reply popped up.

"Of course it did. You're Mrs. Langford."

Seraphina stared at the text, momentarily stunned before a wave of deep warmth washed over her heart.

It felt incredible to have someone permanently standing in her corner, constantly reminding her: you are capable.

"Right. Thank you," Seraphina replied, honestly at a loss for how else to express her gratitude.

"Don't mention it. Where are you now? I'll have my driver pick you up. I'm heading into another meeting," Lucian texted back.

"No need, I can just grab a cab," Seraphina quickly declined.

"Then be careful on your way back. By the way, there's a tea party this weekend hosted by the Lyndon family. We do a lot of business with them, and they sent an invitation to the house. If you're interested, you should go check it out," Lucian suggested.

"Sure, I have some free time this weekend. It'll be a good chance to broaden my horizons," Seraphina immediately agreed.

They had established the ground rules when they signed their marriage contract.

She needed to play the role of the perfect Mrs. Langford.

Even though Lucian framed it casually, blowing off a direct invitation from an elite family would reflect poorly on them.

Besides, she was genuinely curious to see how the wives of high society operated behind closed doors.

Little Bean gave a soft kick against her stomach.

"Mommy, let's go home. It's getting dark."

"Alright, let's go home."

Seraphina flagged down a car and headed back.

"Mrs. Whitman, it's been ages," Mrs. Sullivan greeted her with an easy smile, then turned slightly to gesture at Sienna. "This is my Sebastian's girlfriend, Sienna."

Sienna offered a graceful, subtle bow, her voice light and melodic. "It is an absolute pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Whitman."

Mrs. Wendy Whitman scanned her from head to toe, her smile widening approvingly. "My, my. What an incredibly stunning girl. You are so lucky, Mrs. Sullivan."

Everyone in their circle knew the scandalous history of the Sullivan family.

But in settings like this, nobody breathed a word of anything but sweet flattery.

Mrs. Sullivan beamed, clearly thrilled. "You're too kind. Shall we head inside?"

They walked through an ornate, winding corridor before stepping into a massive, airy tearoom.

Several women were already seated, each dressed in breathtaking haute couture, exuding an aura of immense, untouchable wealth.

Sitting directly in the center seat of honor was a woman in her early fifties. Her skin was meticulously maintained, and she wore a deep emerald velvet dress. A chunky, flawless emerald bracelet circled her wrist—a piece that practically screamed old money.

This was Mrs. Lydia Lyndon, the undisputed queen of Capital City's elite socialites.