Left at the Altar with His Triplets: The Billionaire Begs for Forgiveness - Chapter 28: Chapter 28
You are reading Left at the Altar with His Triplets: The Billionaire Begs for Forgiveness, Chapter 28: Chapter 28. Read more chapters of Left at the Altar with His Triplets: The Billionaire Begs for Forgiveness.
I heard Elodie's voice, but she called too softly and was somewhat far away. I didn't hear clearly and instinctively turned to go downstairs.
She hurriedly tried to catch up but was held back by a servant behind her.
"Little friend, wait a moment. Let me dry your hair."
"No need, thank you." Her voice was soft but urgent.
I had no idea she was chasing after me as I stepped directly onto the wide spiral staircase.
Walking into the living room, I immediately saw Victoria sitting on the sofa.
She noticed me at once, her face showing that familiar, piercing smile.
"How was it?" she said lazily. "Do you now realize how superfluous you are in this family? If I were you, I would have left long ago instead of staying here to annoy everyone."
I was already irritated and had no time for her provocation. I treated her as if she didn't exist and planned to walk around her directly.
But she clearly couldn't stand my calm attitude.
Her expression instantly darkened, though her lips curved into a mocking arc.
I knew what she couldn't stand most was my composed yet dignified demeanor.
What she preferred was seeing me five years ago—desperate, helpless, and tearful at the hospital entrance, watching Arnold accompany and care for her mother in that pathetic state.
She smugly raised her hand, waving the ring on her finger in front of me.
"This ring is beautiful, isn't it? Arnold said it suits me perfectly. What do you think?"
The moment I saw that ring, my chest felt like it was stabbed by a knife tip.
That was my mother's memento, something I had treasured most.
I looked up at her with eyes as cold as a winter lake: "You just love taking my things, don't you?"
She pretended to look innocent, walking up to me: "Yours? Do you have proof? Arnold personally put this on my finger."
Her phrase "Arnold gave it to me" was like nails hammering into my heart one by one.
I sneered, my gaze turning completely cold: "Disgusting enough."
She seemed increasingly delighted, deliberately raising her hand higher with a provocative voice: "Once it's on my finger, it's mine. Not just the ring—Arnold is mine too."
I raised an eyebrow and smiled, stepping closer to her: "Arnold is your man? Too bad he never signed the divorce papers back then. He and I are still legally married. You keep saying 'yours'—are you laying your dignity out for people to trample, or did you never plan to have any?"
Her face stiffened and changed instantly.
I continued, my tone pressing inch by inch: "I thought you were so capable, but after five years, this is it? I've been gone five years, yet you haven't even touched the edge of being Mrs. Cavendish. With such little ability, you still dare show off in front of me? What a waste."
"What gives you the right to say these things!" She was so angry her voice became shrill.
I sneered: "What status were you just speaking from? Arnold's what? Mistress? Lover?"
She looked as if I had slapped her hard, her face flushing red.
But I knew what she feared most wasn't me exposing her identity, but exposing the facade she'd worked so hard to maintain all these years—that she was Arnold's only woman, the future Mrs. Cavendish.
She had been waiting for Arnold to officially marry her, but my words shattered all her fantasies.
She gritted her teeth, as if trying to regain control, her tone suddenly sharp: "Paisley, don't be naive. When your mother died and you were crying your heart out, Arnold was with me celebrating my mother's birthday, setting off fireworks. Everyone knows he's always loved me."
She approached me, lowering her voice: "The one who isn't loved in a relationship is the real mistress—that's you! And don't forget, if your father hadn't risked his life to save Scott back then, and Scott hadn't been soft-hearted enough to let you marry in, what right would a penniless bastard with no family background like you have to be Arnold's wife?"
My whole body shook, my heart clenching violently.
She continued: "Besides, think about it—if your father hadn't risked his life to save Scott, making Scott pity you enough to let you marry Arnold, what right would someone as lowly as you have to marry Arnold?"
"Oh right, your father—I think when he saved Scott, his motives weren't pure either. He wanted to save Scott to use that favor for gain. Too bad his luck was poor and he died. You see, poor people's lives are just that worthless—willing to risk their lives for such small benefits."
She hurriedly tried to catch up but was held back by a servant behind her.
"Little friend, wait a moment. Let me dry your hair."
"No need, thank you." Her voice was soft but urgent.
I had no idea she was chasing after me as I stepped directly onto the wide spiral staircase.
Walking into the living room, I immediately saw Victoria sitting on the sofa.
She noticed me at once, her face showing that familiar, piercing smile.
"How was it?" she said lazily. "Do you now realize how superfluous you are in this family? If I were you, I would have left long ago instead of staying here to annoy everyone."
I was already irritated and had no time for her provocation. I treated her as if she didn't exist and planned to walk around her directly.
But she clearly couldn't stand my calm attitude.
Her expression instantly darkened, though her lips curved into a mocking arc.
I knew what she couldn't stand most was my composed yet dignified demeanor.
What she preferred was seeing me five years ago—desperate, helpless, and tearful at the hospital entrance, watching Arnold accompany and care for her mother in that pathetic state.
She smugly raised her hand, waving the ring on her finger in front of me.
"This ring is beautiful, isn't it? Arnold said it suits me perfectly. What do you think?"
The moment I saw that ring, my chest felt like it was stabbed by a knife tip.
That was my mother's memento, something I had treasured most.
I looked up at her with eyes as cold as a winter lake: "You just love taking my things, don't you?"
She pretended to look innocent, walking up to me: "Yours? Do you have proof? Arnold personally put this on my finger."
Her phrase "Arnold gave it to me" was like nails hammering into my heart one by one.
I sneered, my gaze turning completely cold: "Disgusting enough."
She seemed increasingly delighted, deliberately raising her hand higher with a provocative voice: "Once it's on my finger, it's mine. Not just the ring—Arnold is mine too."
I raised an eyebrow and smiled, stepping closer to her: "Arnold is your man? Too bad he never signed the divorce papers back then. He and I are still legally married. You keep saying 'yours'—are you laying your dignity out for people to trample, or did you never plan to have any?"
Her face stiffened and changed instantly.
I continued, my tone pressing inch by inch: "I thought you were so capable, but after five years, this is it? I've been gone five years, yet you haven't even touched the edge of being Mrs. Cavendish. With such little ability, you still dare show off in front of me? What a waste."
"What gives you the right to say these things!" She was so angry her voice became shrill.
I sneered: "What status were you just speaking from? Arnold's what? Mistress? Lover?"
She looked as if I had slapped her hard, her face flushing red.
But I knew what she feared most wasn't me exposing her identity, but exposing the facade she'd worked so hard to maintain all these years—that she was Arnold's only woman, the future Mrs. Cavendish.
She had been waiting for Arnold to officially marry her, but my words shattered all her fantasies.
She gritted her teeth, as if trying to regain control, her tone suddenly sharp: "Paisley, don't be naive. When your mother died and you were crying your heart out, Arnold was with me celebrating my mother's birthday, setting off fireworks. Everyone knows he's always loved me."
She approached me, lowering her voice: "The one who isn't loved in a relationship is the real mistress—that's you! And don't forget, if your father hadn't risked his life to save Scott back then, and Scott hadn't been soft-hearted enough to let you marry in, what right would a penniless bastard with no family background like you have to be Arnold's wife?"
My whole body shook, my heart clenching violently.
She continued: "Besides, think about it—if your father hadn't risked his life to save Scott, making Scott pity you enough to let you marry Arnold, what right would someone as lowly as you have to marry Arnold?"
"Oh right, your father—I think when he saved Scott, his motives weren't pure either. He wanted to save Scott to use that favor for gain. Too bad his luck was poor and he died. You see, poor people's lives are just that worthless—willing to risk their lives for such small benefits."
End of Left at the Altar with His Triplets: The Billionaire Begs for Forgiveness Chapter 28. Continue reading Chapter 29 or return to Left at the Altar with His Triplets: The Billionaire Begs for Forgiveness book page.