Hi Ex, Your Uncle Is My Hubby Now - Chapter 40: Chapter 40

"From now on, your parents have no ties to the Jackson family. At the very least, they won't be enjoying any of its benefits."
It was obvious the Jackson family was on the rise.
Now that they'd publicly cut ties with Henry and Shelby, the couple's future was basically done for.
Irene had figured the Jackson family would eventually see through Shelby, and she'd guessed Gwen would become more cautious around her.
But she had underestimated just how decisive Gwen could be.
When it was time to cut someone off, she didn't hesitate. Clean. Sharp. No drama. That was the kind of authority a true matriarch needed.
"So," Anthony asked, "are you really planning to send your dear Shelby to jail?"
Irene gave a sly smile. "Not necessarily. If the offer's tempting enough, I might be persuaded to write a letter of forgiveness."
Anthony gave her a look, intrigued. Then it hit him. "So this whole thing—on the surface, it looks like she was setting you up, but really… you were playing her too, weren't you?"
Irene didn't answer. But she didn't deny it either.
Anthony chuckled, eyes narrowing. "You knew exactly how she'd react—you were betting she'd panic and do something reckless. So you used it against her. I'm dying to know—what is it you really want out of this?"
For the first time, Anthony found himself unable to read Irene.
She'd always been clever, but the kind of clever that was easy to see through—transparent.
Now, though, there was a layer of mystery around her. She was planning something, and he couldn't figure out what.
She had grown into something more dangerous.
"Princess Anthony, you're so smart—take a guess," Irene said lightly, before slipping into her office. She opened her email to check for a reply from Charles. Nothing.
So she launched her design software and started working on a new concept—a playful, smart piece of furniture.
Just as she was getting into it, her phone buzzed.
She glanced at the screen. Dorian. Her eyes narrowed.
'The sneaky cat comes crawling back,' she thought.
She pretended not to see the call and kept her focus on the design.
An hour later, Dorian showed up in person—bearing cupcakes for everyone at the studio.
After successfully bribing the staff, he finally made his way to Irene's office.
The door was open, but he didn't walk in. Instead, he knocked gently on the frame.
Knock knock.
Irene glanced up at him with a cold, indifferent look, then went right back to her design work.
Seeing her mood, Dorian knew she was still upset. He quietly shut the door behind him, walked over to her desk, and tried to soften her mood.
"Are you mad? Because I bailed on you yesterday?"
Irene didn't respond. Dorian kept his tone patient. "Something unexpected came up with the project—I got tied up, and by the time I wrapped things up, it was already ten. I missed the last flight.
"That's why I caught the very first one this morning, just to get back here.
"Irene, don't be mad, okay? It was my birthday yesterday. I was stuck out of town, working late, didn't even get to eat dinner—no soup, no cake. You really gonna stay mad at me after that?"
As he spoke, he pulled a gift box from behind his back and placed it in front of her. "You like StellaLou, right? I saw one of those claw machines at the airport and got this for you.
"You wouldn't believe it—I stood there like an idiot, trying over twenty times. People were laughing at me."
Dorian laid it on thick, doing his best to win her over. But Irene still barely acknowledged him. His patience started to wear thin.
He could deal with her being moody—up to a point. But even he had limits.
Just as he was about to push back, he suddenly heard something. A soft sniffle.
He froze.
Looking at her, he noticed—right there on the desk—were spots of moisture. Tears.