Chapter 372: Clara Whitmore Frowned at the Bank Notification on Her Phone Screen

"Mom, why did you suddenly transfer money to me?"

Clara Whitmore frowned at the bank notification on her phone screen.

Helen Whitmore and Daniel Whitmore exchanged knowing smiles. "Your father and I discussed it," Helen said gently. "You contributed so much for the villa purchase. We couldn't help before, but now we finally can."

"I don't need the money."

"We know," Helen patted her daughter's hand. "We're not giving it because you need it. We're living in that villa too—it's only right we contribute."

"But we're family."

"Exactly," Helen blinked. "Then why are you keeping score?"

Clara fell silent.

"But—"

"No buts," Daniel interrupted. "Listen to your mother. Would you refuse if we needed financial help later?"

Clara pressed her lips together. "...Of course not."

"Then it's settled. Oh, we have an early train tomorrow—you should rest."

"...I'll keep this money saved. Just tell me whenever you need it."

"Alright, go get some sleep."

Watching their daughter retreat to her room, Helen sighed. "That girl will definitely overthink this."

Daniel mused, "Actually, Clara probably isn't short on funds..."

He vaguely knew his daughter had substantial savings—though unclear of the exact amount, it definitely reached eight figures.

Helen said firmly, "Her finances are hers. What we give, however small, is our parental love."

This wasn't about the sum.

"We couldn't provide her a nice home growing up. Now we're living in her villa—that's not something we take for granted."

Daniel lowered his head. "I wasn't capable enough..."

"You still had your uses."

"Darling..." Daniel's eyes grew moist.

"I couldn't have birthed Clara without you."

"?"

* * *

At 9 AM the next morning, Clara saw her parents off at the train station.

She watched until their figures disappeared into the crowd before turning away.

Arriving home, she nearly collided with Elias Mercer at her doorstep. The physicist held a stack of documents, finger poised at her doorbell.

"Professor." Clara quickened her steps up the final stairs.

Elias looked up. "Is your father home?"

"They left this morning. Did you need him for something?"

"Just delivering printed copies of the research materials he requested." He waved the papers.

"Ah... they just departed..."

"No matter. I'll email you the digital version to forward to him."

"You shouldn't have gone to this trouble!"

"Not at all," Elias's lips curved slightly. "Your father is... unique."

The man's insistence on addressing him as "brother" was particularly memorable.

* * *

After her parents' departure, Clara's life regained its quiet rhythm.

Her days flowed between home and the library.

Time passed like water—soon it was September, and graduate school began anew...