It was 7 o'clock in the morning. Justine, Manuel, and Tia were chatting comfortably in the living room.

"Did you sleep well on the sofa last night?" Justine asked.

"I'm fine," Manuel replied, his face betraying no discomfort.

"But look at your dark circles," Justine observed.

"Maybe I slept too late," Manuel deflected.

"Mr. Johnson, why not rest in my room tonight? The sofa must be uncomfortable," Tia suggested, feeling guilty about occupying the master bedroom as a servant.

"No, thank you," he responded.

"But the doctor said you need to avoid sleeping on hard surfaces while your legs recover. I saw you sink into the sofa this morning; it's not good for your healing," Tia insisted.

"It's nothing. You worry too much," Manuel said.

"But..." Tia began, but was interrupted.

Susan entered, remaining unnoticed for a moment. Feeling overlooked, she approached the group. "Tia, I'm hungry," she announced.

"Breakfast is ready. I'll get it now," Tia replied.

Susan went to the dining room without greeting Justine and Manuel, a familiar behavior that wouldn't surprise them. They would likely be startled if she suddenly acted enthusiastically.

Justine and Manuel soon joined her. Susan displayed a look of displeasure.

"We haven't had breakfast either," Justine said pointedly.

Susan rolled her eyes, clearly unconcerned.

Tia served the food, which Susan, who was pregnant, found appealing. The porridge soothed her stomach.

"Eat an egg," Justine offered, placing a poached egg before Susan.

Susan refused. "I don't want it."

"It's good for the baby."

"My baby hasn't treated me well, so why should I treat it better?" Susan retorted angrily.

"How do you know? It's not even born yet?" Justine challenged.

"I don't have to wait for its birth. It's already making me suffer," Susan insisted, continuing to eat her porridge.

Justine remained silent.

"She has severe morning sickness," Manuel explained.

"That's normal for pregnant women. I experienced the same thing—throwing up every day during my first trimester. Nothing stayed down! You'll feel better afterward," Justine shared.

"After the first trimester?" Susan asked, dreading the prospect.

"You're lucky if it only lasts that long. Some women throw up until delivery."

Susan stared at Justine, who remained focused on her meal. Justine, understanding the severity of pregnancy sickness, didn't press the egg issue.

A sudden quiet settled over the dining room. Justine looked intently at Susan, causing her to frown uneasily.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Susan asked, her mood worsening.

"Maybe you're having a boy!" Justine exclaimed, basing her guess on the similarity of Susan's symptoms to her own when she carried Manuel. Both had experienced severe morning sickness. Susan's eyes widened, expecting some significant revelation; even Manuel breathed a sigh of relief, anticipating something worse.

"Fantastic. I want a boy," Susan declared bluntly. "And I have a hunch I'll have one!" she added confidently.

Justine smiled slyly. "It would be nice if your boy was like Manuel," she remarked.

Susan bristled at the thought.

"Manuel, do you want a boy or a girl?" Justine asked, ignoring Susan's irritation.

Manuel, startled by the unexpected question, paused. The reality of Susan's pregnancy still felt surreal. "A girl," he finally answered, hoping for a daughter resembling Susan.

"I know, I'd prefer a granddaughter too," Justine said cheerfully.

Manuel smiled, visibly pleased.

Susan fumed at their apparent indifference. She vowed to have a son, her own image, to spite them.

"That's why I wanted to move in here," Justine suddenly announced, leaving Susan and Manuel puzzled.

"I heard that the more time a pregnant woman spends with someone, the more the baby will resemble them," she clarified.

Susan rolled her eyes, dismissing Justine's superstitious belief as ridiculous.

"If my granddaughter looks like you, she'll be at a disadvantage from the start," Justine stated seriously.

Susan, angered, retorted, "Who are you calling ugly?"

"Don't you know?" Justine challenged.

"Am I ugly?" Susan seethed, suspecting Justine was deliberately provoking her to inherit her father's wealth.

"You're not as pretty as me," Justine said bluntly.

Susan gritted her teeth. Justine, though no longer young, remained strikingly beautiful. While Susan possessed exotic features and a stunning figure, a comparison inevitably favored Justine.

"And not as pretty as Manuel," Justine added, delivering a final jab.

Susan felt a surge of furious indignation. An absurd thought crossed her mind: if Manuel were a prostitute, he'd be fabulously wealthy, perhaps the richest man in the world.

"I'm finished," Susan declared, putting down her chopsticks. Her stomach, not her anger, had prompted her to stop eating.

Before leaving, she said, "Tia, let's go shopping at the mall later."