She Was the Treasure All Along novel Chapter 990

Swain laughs from the side. "I know, right? I don't know how I got so lucky."

Carl is a bit more reserved, though his eyes also study her approvingly. "What kind of work do you do, dear?"

"I work at the Lonsdale Music Atelier. Right now, I do arranging," Helena says casually, turning back to dish out the ribs. "I'm a composer and an assistant."

"Wait, the famous Mr. Lonsdale?!" Martha's eyes light up with immense pride. "So you're a proper musician! Oh, Swain, you've really done well for yourself, finding such an educated, talented girl!"

Swain beams, genuinely proud to have her by his side. "Yeah, she's amazing."

The dinner goes much smoother than she anticipated.

His parents are undeniably salt-of-the-earth people. They speak plainly, wear their hearts on their sleeves, and practically push the entire plate of ribs toward her.

They ask about her background—if her parents are also musicians, who else is in her family. Every question is laced with the innocent thrill of *'my son found a catch.'*

She answers them politely, completely omitting the catastrophic mess that is her family, simply stating that her parents live in their hometown and run a small business.

Martha nods vigorously, dropping another rib into her bowl. "These ribs are fantastic. So tender and flavorful! Way better than the restaurants back home!"

Helena smiles. "I'm glad you like them. Eat as much as you want, I made plenty."

That night, they set his parents up in an express hotel near the apartment. Before leaving, Martha holds her hand, chatting affectionately for another ten minutes.

After seeing them off, she walks back inside. Swain is at the sink washing dishes. Hearing her come in, he turns his head and smiles. "My mom really likes you. It's obvious."

Wiping his hands on a towel, he turns to face her, his expression turning serious. "By the way, I think it's time I formally met your parents."

She freezes in the kitchen doorway.

Thanks to Loyce's behind-the-scenes orchestration, the route is timed to the exact second.

The main avenue takes them directly past the exterior of the Lonsdale Music Atelier.

Walking in the middle of the group, the couple pauses to look at vintage sheet music displayed in a shop window. Martha snaps a few photos on her phone, muttering about sending them to the family group chat.

Suddenly, a massive commotion erupts at the front of the crowd.

Martha looks up and sees a middle-aged man in a ratty jacket standing across the street, shouting aggressively at the entrance of a high-end studio. He is screaming so loudly that his words carry over the traffic.

Beside him, a middle-aged woman is holding up a massive banner and waving a sheet of paper at the security guards.

"Our daughter works at this studio! She's a famous arranger! Why the hell won't you let us in?! Tell her to get her ass down here right now!"