Wilton scowled. "Ivy, Tilda got hired for her scriptwriting chops. I can't just require her to quit."

Ivy shot back, "Sure, she has her talent, but she's still an employee. For my sake, you invested in this TV drama. That's to say, I can be sort of an investor, a patron. She should be bending over backward for me, not targeting me! If she's against me, can't we cut her loose? I should have a say, right?"

Wilton's expression darkened. “Ivy, both of you are my daughters.

I've always been partial toward you. Tilda earned her stripes since childhood; she's a scriptwriting sensation. And you? I won't tally up the bills I've footed for you since day one. Now, you want me to give your sister the boot for your sake? Does that square with you?"

Ivy was taken aback, her emotions shifting like sand dunes. “Dad, are you saying I'm not as sharp and sensible as Tilda?"