Rising from the Ashes The Heiress They Tried to Erase Novel

Chapter 437: As for Maia, she had been raised in their care and, in many ways, had continued to be a member of the family. If Maia chose to return, it would undoubtedly benefit the Morgans. With a mix of relief and pride, Sandra gently took Rosanna's hand. "Rosanna, let's go ahead with your idea. Sharing your birthday celebration with Maia may feel like a sacrifice, but don't worry. Your father, your brother, and I will make it up to you with another celebration later." With a calm smile that concealed her deeper thoughts, Rosanna nodded. "Mom, Dad, you don't need to worry.

I've always hoped that Maia and I could get along." She then shifted her gaze to Richard. "If you were the one to speak to her, she might take it more seriously." In truth, Rosanna was concerned that Maia would simply ignore her if she went to invite her. But if Richard made the approach, it might push Maia into going along with it. A brief silence passed before Richard finally nodded. "Alright. I'll bring it up with her." What went unnoticed was the way Rosanna's fingers curled tightly into fists, or the glint in her eyes-something far from gentle.

In her mind, Maia's fate was already sealed. That birthday party would be the perfect stage. With Mariana's help, she'd make sure Maia's image came crashing down. Meanwhile, Jarrod slipped into his room and closed the door behind him. He leaned against the door for a moment, thoughts clashing in his mind. After a few moments, he crossed the room and opened the lowest drawer of the wardrobe. Inside was an old red scarf, its edges worn and tattered. м๏гє υρ∂คтєร คт gคlภ๏שєlร.ς๏๓ He pulled it out slowly, letting it rest in his hand. The fabric still held the warmth of memory.

Maia had knitted it herself. That winter, she had quietly slipped it into his backpack, calling it his birthday present. Maia had handed it to him with a soft reminder. "It's cold outside. Wear this so you don't get sick." Instead of appreciating the gesture, he'd brushed her off completely. Irritated by her concern, he'd tossed the scarf straight into the snow. To him, needing a scarf was a sign of weakness. Boys didn't shiver from a bit of cold-and they definitely didn't need girls worrying about them. The thought of his classmates finding out? Humiliating.

They'd never let him live it down. Had Tricia not felt pity for Maia and quietly retrieved the scarf, washed it, and tucked it away for safekeeping, it would have been lost forever. Without that small act of kindness, Maia's silent gesture would have vanished without a trace. Moisture welled in Jarrod's eyes, blurring his vision. He drew the scarf close, pressing it to his chest as though holding on to a piece of her. The texture surprised him. He hadn't expected something so soft, so comforting. That scarf was the first birthday gift Maia had ever given him-and the last.

If only he had known she had made it by hand. How could he have thrown it away? With a deep breath, he buried his face in the fabric, as if he could still feel the warmth of her fingers in every thread. And just like that, he remembered-Maia's birthday was coming soon. Not once had he ever given her anything-not even a small token. As he stared at the scarf now resting in his hands, like a fragile memory, an idea began to form in his mind. . . .