She stared at Arabella, her eyes filled with a mixture of disgust, disdain, and a trace of unidentifiable darkness. Daisy had never imagined a girl could be so shameless as to air something as tawdry as a "sugar daddy" dynamic in public.

What infuriated Daisy even more was Frederick. The "ascetic Catholic," the "self-disciplined, elegant gentleman" who had been so cold and noble when he rejected her, was apparently playing such lewd games behind closed doors!

The argument was like a spark hitting tinder, exploding instantly. Daisy never expected this "Asian hick" to be so sharp-tongued. In fluent English peppered with German words, Arabella unleashed a "machine-gun" barrage of insults aimed at Daisy's pride and joy—her blonde hair.

She mocked Daisy's eyes, calling them "Husky eyes," and even cursed her for wearing short skirts in the freezing weather.

Daisy was shaking with rage. Her blonde hair and blue eyes were symbols of her nobility! Though the hair required regular dyeing to remain that uniform and the blue was closer to grey, the blood of Germanic aristocracy still flowed in her veins; her great-grandfather was the younger son of a Count during the Second German Empire. She was an aristocrat, born to be noble.

"Shut up, you peasant from China!" Daisy shrieked. "You probably haven't even stepped foot in a university, which is why you're so stupid and vulgar!"

Arabella remained undaunted, retorting with effortless confidence: "Who says I haven't been to university? I graduated from Harvard! Chinese people are just smarter than you!" She emphasized every word.

Daisy's face soured even further. Harvard. She had applied to Harvard once—and been rejected.

"You're the real peasant hick, and you're from Germany," Arabella added, realizing she hadn't said enough earlier.

Finally pushed past her limit, Daisy screamed, "You little bitch!"

She lunged forward, reaching for Arabella's hair, intending to strike her. To her shock, Arabella's reflexes were terrifyingly fast. She intercepted Daisy's movement in an instant, her grip strength so exaggerated that she effortlessly twisted Daisy's arm into a grotesque, pretzel-like shape.

Daisy, who exercised regularly and was quite strong herself, stood at 175cm—a head taller than Arabella—yet she was suppressed with ease.

"Ah—! It hurts! Let me go! You violent, vulgar bitch!" Daisy's features contorted in agony as she clawed at Arabella's hand, her tall frame bent over like a shrimp, now appearing much shorter than the girl she looked down upon.

The more Daisy cursed, the more Arabella increased the pressure, her expression stubborn and her lips set in a determined line.

The commotion was so loud that the servants, fearing they might be caught in the crossfire, only made half-hearted attempts to intervene. The scene descended into a chaotic tangle of pushing and shouting. Sophia, terrified, dropped her racket and rushed over with Daniel to forcibly pull the two apart.

Arabella was held back, stumbling a few steps. In the confusion, Daisy landed a heavy kick on Arabella's leg before collapsing into Sophia's arms, wailing and clutching her own arm.

Arabella took the kick squarely. It was painful, but she had a high threshold for pain; the physical sting was nothing compared to the feeling of grievance. Her lip pouted toward the sky as she glared resentfully at Daisy.

Daisy's eyes were bloodshot, tears streaming down her face. "I was kind enough to teach her tennis, and she attacked me! She insulted my family! Sophia, I can't move my arm... is it broken? Why does it hurt so much...?"

Seeing Daisy cry so hysterically, Arabella began to doubt herself. Was my grip really that strong? She guiltily hid her hands behind her back, whispering a defense: "You hit me first."

Daisy sneered through her tears, "You're such a liar."

Nothing that happened on the tennis court could stay hidden from the master of the villa. When the servants reported the incident, Frederick was sitting nearby. Hearing that his little bird had gotten into a physical fight and made Daisy cry, he rubbed his brow with a helpless sigh. "Is Aerona injured?"

"No, sir," the servant replied. "But Miss Daisy's arm is injured. We've already sent for a doctor."

Frederick nodded, relieved. He stood up, taking his cashmere coat from the back of the chair. He turned to the old man sitting in the primary seat—his grandfather, Heinrich. "Grandfather, I'm going to see her. Aerona is a very friendly and timid child; she doesn't initiate conflict."

The old man looked at his most prized grandson meaningfully. "She doesn't sound very timid to me."

Frederick smiled. "She is. Even the taxidermy in my study scares her."

"You don't need to explain to me. Daisy's mother, Lady Patricia, is also here today. Think about how you will account for this. You are the one who brought the girl."

"I will handle it."

Heinrich, dressed in an old-fashioned, elegant check-patterned wool tweed suit and bowtie, watched him with dark blue eyes identical to Frederick's own. "If you refuse to consider Daisy, I respect that. But that does not mean I support you being with this one. It's your life; place your own bets."

"Grandfather, you know I never place bets casually," Frederick replied with a polite bow before striding out.

-----

The doctor was applying a cooling ointment to Daisy's arm. Lady Patricia held her daughter protectively, urging the doctor to be gentle.

"Doctor, is it broken? It hurts, very much."

The doctor explained, "Miss Daisy, it is very difficult to break a bone without a significant external impact. You likely have a minor ligament strain. It should feel much better by tomorrow."

Lady Patricia was unimpressed. "Daisy's hands are for the piano, painting, and tennis," she said coldly. "If there is permanent damage, who will take responsibility?" Everyone in the room knew exactly who she was talking about.

Daniel tried to smooth things over awkwardly. "Ms. Patricia, I'm sure Aerona didn't mean it..."

Arabella stood aside, head bowed like a child being punished.

Did I cause trouble for Frederick? Will he be angry? she wondered. 

"Miss Aerona, what do you have to say?" Lady Patricia raised her chin. Her hat cast a slight shadow over her thin face, and while her lips were curved into a smile, there was no warmth in her eyes.

"I..." Arabella didn't know what to say. Her mind was blank, and her face was a mask of misfortune.

Just then, the sailing group returned. The young men were chatting and laughing until they entered the villa and felt the heavy tension. Benjamin, sensing a spectacle, didn't even notice Daisy at first. His eyes locked onto Arabella.

He ran a hand through his hair, his face lighting up. "It's you! Pretty sweetheart! Fritz actually brought you!" Benny, raised in Milan, possessed all the silver-tongued charm of an Italian man. "Oh, oriental princess! Your eyes are even sweeter than I imagined!"

Arabella managed a strained smile. Benjamin huffed, "My little melon, who hurt you?"

Daniel nudged Benjamin and whispered the details. Benjamin's eyebrows shot up as he looked between Daisy and Arabella.

Lady Patricia frowned. "Benjamin, no one is hurting Miss Aerona here."

Benjamin straightened up. "Of course, Ms. Patricia. But you know how it is—small frictions between girls are normal. I used to fight with Daniel all the time."

Lady Patricia smiled thinly. "Frictions are normal, yes, but one must take responsibility for their actions. I simply hope Aerona will apologize. Daisy is injured because of her."

She turned her gaze to Arabella. "Miss Aerona, don't you think that's fair?"