Chapter 487: Chapter 487

Chapter 487:

Handmade photo albums, bouquets of meticulously arranged flowers, aircraft models, and video compilations of memorable moments. The atmosphere was filled with joy as some students rolled out a red carpet, while others tossed confetti, cheered, and handed over flowers.

Just as they were about to escort Harlee to the lecture hall, Etta stepped forward to block their way and called out, “Harlee, can we talk for a moment?”

Harlee, who had been thinking of how to properly thank her students for their kindness, stiffened when she heard Etta’s voice.

Her expression turned icy as she looked up and locked eyes with Etta.

Her voice was as cold as her gaze as she replied, “Is there something you need?”

Etta smiled sweetly, her tone laced with false humility as she weaved through the crowd to stand before Harlee.

“There are too many people here.

Can we speak privately?”

Harlee scoffed, her tone cutting.

“What makes you think you’re entitled to a conversation with me?”

Faced with Harlee’s overbearing demeanor, Etta’s stance didn’t falter.

Her voice grew softer.

“I know I have no right to ask anything of you, but I just need a moment alone. Is that really too much to ask?”

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Seeing the poised and commanding Harlee, Etta instinctively shrank into a posture of submissiveness.

“If it’s not possible now, maybe after your lecture? I have something really important to share.” Her tone became increasingly pitiful, as though rejection would shatter her.

This was Lindsay’s command to Etta. No matter what, even if it meant debasing herself in front of Harlee, Etta had to carry it out.

Harlee glanced at Etta again, her expression unreadable.

“Why are you putting yourself through all this? Let me take a guess.”

Etta opened her mouth to respond but found herself unable to form the words. She knew Harlee well enough to realize that Harlee wouldn’t speak so boldly without evidence. The fear of Lindsay’s scheme being exposed in public sent waves of panic through her.

Etta bit her lip, forcing a look of wounded innocence.

“Harlee, do you really not trust me? Even though I’m not linked to the Sanderson family by blood, haven’t we always been like family?”

Harlee’s voice was devoid of warmth.

“You’re just a maid’s child.”

Etta’s tone turned even more sorrowful.

“Fine, if that’s how little you think of me just because I’m the maid’s daughter, I’ll just leave.”

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