Swapping a Broken Heart for a New Start novel Chapter 437

Everyone was waiting anxiously outside the ER for Camila Davis, not realizing that someone was watching them from a distance.

Barbara Jones stood in the corner, her brow deeply furrowed.

She’d come in for a heart checkup. Ever since Sandra Taylor had lost face at that charity auction, Barbara had been hiding from her social circle. She dreaded running into the other society ladies—afraid she’d catch them gossiping and laughing behind her back the moment she stepped outside.

Today was supposed to be different. She’d finally made plans with a friend to go get facials and a spa treatment, maybe even a mimosa or two.

But luck was never on her side. Wouldn’t you know it, she bumped right into a group of familiar faces from the country club.

The ladies spotted her and hurried over, all smiles and congratulations.

“Well, well, Mrs. Smith! Who knew the Smith family had a little Picasso on their hands?”

“Yes, truly! I never guessed the new generation would be so talented.”

“It must be your marvelous guidance, Mrs. Smith…”

Barbara blinked, utterly confused as the flattery kept coming.

She eyed them warily. “What little Picasso? Who are you all talking about?”

“Oh come on, we all know, Mrs. Smith. No need to be so modest!”

They started chattering about how they’d run into Jordan Smith at the art exhibition a few days ago.

Suddenly, it clicked for Barbara. They must be raving about Daniel.

A lot had happened lately, and Jordan’s attitude toward Sandra Taylor hadn’t changed. Barbara had been annoyed about it, honestly. But if Daniel was finally doing something to make the family proud, she’d take it.

She smiled politely. “Daniel is a smart boy, yes. I heard he even won some art award recently…”

“Uh…,” one of the ladies interrupted, confused. “We weren’t talking about Daniel.”

“No, no, we meant your granddaughter. Your own flesh and blood!”

“The one who’s—well—divorced now…”

Barbara’s face changed instantly.

“What?!”

She was so shocked her expression slipped.

One of the women chimed in, “Your Lillian was accepted into the National Artists’ Association—out of the blue! Word is, every major artist wants her as their apprentice. The Smiths must be so proud.”

Barbara’s vision went dark. She couldn’t accept it. That was impossible.

Absolutely impossible.

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