Chapter 20: Pudding, Your Mom Has No Heart

Fraser had just finished signing a document when he heard a voice. Looking up, he saw that the woman standing before him was not Summer Stewart. His brows furrowed. His voice dropped, laced with cold impatience.

“Who are you?”

Margaret had been brimming with excitement at the thought of meeting Fraser in person. But the moment he lifted his head, she was completely stunned. This man—his pale skin, deep-set eyes, straight nose, sharply defined features… His gaze was narrow and piercing, his lips thin yet sensual. And today, he wore a simple gray dress shirt with the top two buttons undone, his sleeves casually rolled up, revealing perfectly toned arms. As he moved, faint blue veins became visible beneath his skin, exuding an effortless sense of power.

Margaret’s mind spiraled. If these hands held her waist… if those lips kissed her… The thought alone sent heat rushing through her entire body.

“I… I’m Margaret. The Stewart Group’s daughter,” she stammered.

Fraser shot her a glance, his eyes filled with disinterest.

“This is the Stewart family’s daughter?” What a joke. Tacky. Ordinary. Boring.

Margaret nodded eagerly. “That’s me! The only daughter of the Stewart family!”

Fraser let out a cold chuckle. “Play the role of a counterfeit long enough, and you start believing it yourself.”

Margaret’s face stiffened in embarrassment. She quickly tried to explain. “Mr. Graham, it’s not what you think! It’s true that I don’t share blood ties with the Stewarts, but I was raised by them for twenty years. My upbringing, my values—everything about me is the Stewart family.”

Fraser didn’t care. He had little patience for people he wasn’t interested in. Had he known this was the Stewart daughter requesting a meeting, he never would have let her in.

“Why are you here?” His tone was sharp, dismissive. “Say your piece and leave.”

She thought Fraser’s disdain was because she wasn’t a real Stewart. And once again, resentment surged inside her. If Summer had never come back three years ago, no one would have called her a fake. But she quickly pushed those thoughts aside and refocused on her real goal.

“Mr. Graham, the Stewart Group has a Global Project that needs additional investment. I was hoping to secure backing from the Graham Group.”

Fraser leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, utterly nonchalant.

“And why would I invest?”

Margaret was prepared for this. She might not work at the Stewart Group, but she had eyes and ears everywhere. She pulled a document from her bag and placed it on his desk. This was the investment proposal that Summer had prepared—the one Margaret had someone steal from her office. The details were thorough. Even Margaret had to admit the project seemed promising. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have lowered herself to using Summer’s work.

“Mr. Graham, this is the full proposal. The Stewart Group has been preparing for this project for two years. The expected return rate is thirty-five percent. I know the Graham Group invests in high-potential ventures—this one won’t disappoint you.”

Fraser took the document, casually flipping through a few pages. It was indeed a solid proposal—clear, well-structured, and highly profitable. But his mind drifted elsewhere. If the Stewart Group is in need of funding, why hasn’t Summer come to me? Had she gone to Trevor instead? Annoyance flickered in his chest. His expression darkened. He tossed the document onto his desk.

“You think just because the Graham Group invests in good projects, I should throw money at anything with a high return rate? Ms. Stewart, are you stupid? Have you considered that I only invest when I feel like it?”

Margaret was completely caught off guard. She opened her mouth but had no idea how to respond.

Fraser was already done with her. “I have a meeting. Someone, show her out.”

Margaret panicked. She had finally secured this meeting—she couldn’t let it end like this. She quickly blurted out, “Mr. Graham! If you’re not interested in business, then let’s not talk about investments. I’ve always admired you—why don’t we have dinner instead?”

Fraser smirked, full of disdain. “There are people lined up from Havenbrook to overseas just waiting to have dinner with me. What rank are you?”

At that moment, Xylia rushed in, grabbed Margaret’s arm, and subtly signaled for her to leave. “Let’s go,” she whispered.

Margaret hesitated, stealing one last glance at Fraser’s tall, broad-shouldered figure. Reluctantly, she turned and left.

Once the door shut, Fraser pulled out a cigarette, rolling it between his fingers before finally lighting it. He took a deep drag, but even the sharp burn of nicotine didn’t ease the irritation in his chest. Halfway through, he crushed the cigarette into the ashtray, unfinished. Standing abruptly, he grabbed his jacket and strode out of his office. On his way out, he crossed paths with Xylia, who had just returned from sending Margaret off.

Xylia straightened immediately, lowering her gaze. “Mr. Graham.”

Fraser halted, his tone lazy yet sharp. “This is the Stewart family daughter you mentioned?”

Xylia blinked. Wait… was there another Ms. Stewart? “Y–Yes, sir. Margaret is the Stewart family’s daughter…”

Fraser scoffed. “I don’t like working with idiots. Ada, retrain Xylia before she resumes her duties.” With that, he strode off toward his private elevator. Ada, standing nearby, nodded. “Understood.”

Xylia wanted to cry. Ada sighed. Looks like Mr. Graham really hates the Stewart family. She picked up the phone and made a call to the front desk. “From now on, if any Ms. Stewart from the Stewart Group comes to see Mr. Graham—reject them outright.”

Fraser drove back to Skycrest Villa. The moment he stepped into the garden, a giant fluffy Samoyed came bounding toward him. He reached out, catching the massive white ball of fur in his arms.

“You still think you’re a puppy, huh?” he muttered, cradling it with a hint of exasperation. The Samoyed barked in protest, as if offended by the accusation. Fraser chuckled, ruffling its head before setting it down. Taking a brush from the dog sitter, he dismissed them with a wave. Skycrest Villa staff all knew that Fraser doted on this dog beyond reason. Despite just being a dog sitter, Hailey was at the top of the staff hierarchy simply because she took care of Pudding.

The vast estate was bathed in golden sunlight. A winding stone path led through the lush greenery to a crystal-blue swimming pool. In the center of the garden, a strikingly handsome man knelt beside a fluffy white Samoyed, brushing its fur. Pudding, usually full of energy, sat obediently at Fraser’s feet today. As if sensing his bad mood, it didn’t roll around or play—it simply licked his hand occasionally, offering quiet comfort.

Fraser absentmindedly combed its fur.

“Pudding, your mom has no heart.” He scoffed. “She broke her childhood promise, found herself another man… If she sees you, will she even recognize you?” He paused, then laughed at himself. “No, she didn’t even recognize me. Why would she recognize you?”

Fraser gave Pudding a once-over and sighed. “You’ve gotten fat. You used to be this tiny, scrappy little thing. Now you’re built like a damn lion. If I was hoping you’d remind Summer of the past, I guess that’s a lost cause.”

Pudding barked in protest. Meanwhile, Summer suddenly sneezed.

“Who’s talking bad about me?”