Seraphina released her grip on the door and seated herself on the custom-made couch with an air of ease. Her clear, calm gaze settled on Aidan as though she had all the time in the world. Aidan's expression darkened as he noticed her sitting on the couch he had specially designed for Linara. "This is Linara's room," he said coldly. "Don't you think it's overbearing of you to take over her room the moment you return?" "Overbearing?" Seraphina chuckled softly, her tone laced with sarcasm. "Was it merciful of her to dominate 16 years of my life then?" Aidan's brows knitted tighter. He could sense her resentment, but that didn't excuse her taking what didn't belong to her. He didn't want to engage in verbal sparring, so he pointed to the couch beneath her. "Stand up. That couch was my gift to Linara, not to you. If you want one, I can get you your own.""Yours? Are you sure about that?" Aidan found her question ridiculous. "Of course." "Tell me then—who are your biological parents? The Smiths, the Browns, the Johnsons? Or is it the Lopez?" His brow furrowed deeply, irritation creeping into his expression. "Another question—are you employed? Do you earn an income?" Aidan's gaze darkened further, and he fixed her with a glare. Seraphina's gaze swept over him from head to toe, assessing him coolly. "Everything you eat, drink, wear, and use—every last bit of it comes from my father's money. You spend the Whitewood Family's wealth, yet you have the audacity to lecture me, the only true daughter of this family. Doesn't your conscience hurt? Or are you just an ungrateful leech with no sense of shame?" Aidan, as she well knew, was an orphan Oberon and Chloe adopted. In truth, Seraphina was the only one in the household who shared blood ties with them. Yet in her previous life, the family of four without a drop of shared blood had lived a harmonious, happy life, while she had been reduced to a pawn for their benefit, sacrificed for their interests. Why? Had she not obeyed them enough in her previous life? Had she not been good enough for them? Or was it simply because those 16 years of shared bonds meant more than her pitiful blood connection, making it easy for them to cast her aside? "You bought things with the Whitewood Family's money. That makes them the Whitewood Family's property. And what belongs to the Whitewood Family belongs to me. So, this couch, this room—everything here is mine." Aidan let out a laugh, exasperated by her shameless logic. He never imagined that his parents' biological daughter would be this unreasonable. "The design for this couch was mine," he said. "That, at least, is my contribution." "Are you sure this design is yours?" Seraphina asked, her tone light but her gaze sharp with mockery. Aidan, taking her surprise at face value, found himself oddly pleased. "Of course." "Wow, I've never seen someone plagiarize so brazenly before," Seraphina said, leaning forward with her chin propped on her hand. "This design is clearly from Emil Castillon's collection from two years ago. If I'm not mistaken, the overall style is copied from him, while those over-embellished patterns on the backrest are your addition. "When I first saw this couch, I wondered why Castillon's standards had dropped so much that he'd clutter the backrest with unnecessary details. Now I understand. What a pity! This couch could've been worth millions, but with those tacky additions, its value drops to just a few thousand." Her expression turned wistful. "What a waste. Truly a shame." Aidan's face flushed crimson. Whether from shame, anger, or both, it was hard to tell.