Once one guest took the lead in leaving, others quickly followed, their restlessness barely contained. "Mr. Wilson, could you let Mr. Hall know that I have some urgent matters at home and need to leave?" a certain businessman said with a shameless grin. River, fully aware of the excuse, smiled politely. "Mr. Larson, it would be best if you inform Mr. Hall personally." Feigning ignorance, Mr. Larson waved it off. "Oh, no, no, Mr. Hall is so busy! How could I trouble him with something so minor? Just let him know for me, and I'll apologize to him properly later." Before River could protest, the man bolted as though wild beasts were nipping at his heels. One after another, the guests began slipping out, each inventing increasingly flimsy excuses. Jacob's smile grew tighter with every departure, his cheerful facade barely holding up. As his goddaughter ceremoniously cut the cake, she glanced up to survey the room. Her eyes widened—was she imagining things, or had the crowd thinned dramatically? The representatives of the four major families exchanged knowing looks. Finally, the representative of the second branch of the Lowell Family stepped forward with a smile. "Mr. Hall," he said, feigning regret, "I've just received word about a pressing matter that needs my attention. Honestly, these people I've got working for me—can't even handle a minor issue on their own!" Jacob, not daring to offend the Lowell Family, forced a grin. "You're a pillar of your company, Mr. Lowell. They clearly can't do without your leadership." "Apologies for leaving early, then." "Not at all. Your presence today has already honored my daughter." After the polite exchange, the Lowell Family's representative made a swift exit. One by one, the remaining members of the four major families also rose and excused themselves. The remaining guests, seeing these powerful figures depart, quickly followed suit, shedding any pretense of obligation. Within moments, the hall was a shadow of its former self—two-thirds of the attendees had vanished. Those left behind were smaller businesses and affiliates too reliant on the Hall Family's goodwill to risk offending them. Despite their longing to attend the Whitewood Family's party, they stayed rooted, knowing their limitations. This night, meant to embarrass the Whitewood Family, put Seraphina in her place, and showcase the Hall Family's power, had turned into a complete humiliation. The Hall Family's reputation was now ground into the dirt, their plans backfiring spectacularly. Smack! In a private room, the tension erupted. A sharp slap rang out, echoing like a thunderclap.The Hall Family's goddaughter clutched her reddened cheek, her eyes brimming with tears as she stood in stunned silence. "You've disgraced our family!" Melody fumed, her anger pouring out like a torrential storm. Seeing her step forward again, hand raised, the young girl quickly darted out of reach. She stammered, her voice quivering yet defiant, "How is this my fault? It's not even my birthday! Everything today was about avenging your precious son! You're the ones who offended the Whitewood Family, ruined our partnerships, and brought shame on yourselves!" "Shut your mouth!" Jacob's roar thundered through the room. Startled, the goddaughter flinched, instinctively stepping back, her defiance dissolving into silence. Melody, still seething, made to approach again, but Jacob shot her a glare so fierce it rooted her to the spot. "Keep your darling son under control," he barked. "If he stirs up trouble again, I'll break his legs myself!" It was rare to see him this enraged, especially toward his pampered son. Melody, now pale and subdued, could only nod meekly. Meanwhile, over at Whitewood Residence, the atmosphere was lively and welcoming. Guests who had defected from the Hall Family's party arrived one after another, shamelessly ingratiating themselves. The Whitewood Family, seizing the opportunity, welcomed them all with open arms. Ever since word spread about the presence of the Foster Family's representative, Chloe had been visibly unsettled. Her usually composed demeanor was replaced with an anxious, distracted air. Noticing her pallor, one of the attending ladies approached with concern. "Mrs. Whitewood, are you feeling unwell?" Her question drew the attention of the other women, who gathered around with worried expressions. "If you're not feeling well, you should rest," another urged gently. "Don't worry about us—your health is what matters most."