Left at the Altar with His Triplets: The Billionaire Begs for Forgiveness - Chapter 29: Chapter 29
You are reading Left at the Altar with His Triplets: The Billionaire Begs for Forgiveness, Chapter 29: Chapter 29. Read more chapters of Left at the Altar with His Triplets: The Billionaire Begs for Forgiveness.
My hands were tightly clenched at my sides, nails digging deep into my palms with a dull pain, yet I was numb to any sensation.
Victoria's every word was like a poisoned arrow, stabbing viciously into my heart.
My father was a firefighter. That year when Scott was trapped in a fire, it was my father who rushed in recklessly to save him. But he himself, with burns covering over eighty percent of his body, ultimately... didn't survive.
He was my eternal hero, the cleanest and brightest existence in my heart.
And now, he was being so wantonly humiliated by this woman.
My whole body was trembling, my chest nearly bursting with rage. My gaze was as cold as ice blades stabbing toward her.
Victoria particularly enjoyed seeing me angry yet helpless against her. The corners of her mouth curved in a victorious arc as she sat there like a queen looking down from above.
She continued stabbing at my heart word by word: "Your father was short-lived, and so was your mother—she only lived to fifty, right? But I'm quite curious—your family was so poor you had to sell your lives, so how could your mother afford such a nice ring? Did she go and... 'sell' herself for it?"
"Slap!"
A resounding slap interrupted her wanton humiliation.
I didn't control myself. I didn't want to control myself.
I only knew that if I didn't fight back, I would go insane.
Her head was knocked to one side by my slap, red marks quickly appearing on her face. She stared at me in disbelief, as if she never expected I would actually dare hit her.
"You dare hit me? Paisley, you bitch actually dare—"
"Slap!"
Before she could finish, my second slap landed, harder than the first.
The entire room fell silent.
I could feel all the servants around us had stopped moving, the entire living room seeming frozen in an instant.
Then—
"Ahhhh—!!!"
She came to her senses, her scream deafening.
I stood there, chest heaving violently, anger still burning, my palm still trembling from the impact, but I didn't regret it. I even hated that I hadn't hit harder.
Just then, I saw Elodie—
She stood on the staircase, her big eyes looking at me without blinking. There was no fear in her eyes, but rather a bright light, as if she were looking at her most admired superhero.
Unfortunately, this quiet didn't last long.
Arnold and Olivia came out from the other side of the corridor.
Elodie quickly hid in a corner, her small figure pressed against the wall, motionless.
Victoria finally recovered, her hands covering her face tightly as tears slid down through her fingers.
Olivia quickly walked to her, her tone urgent: "What happened? Victoria? Who hit you?"
Victoria sniffled, tears streaming uncontrollably, looking pitiful: "Aunt... I don't know what I did wrong. She just suddenly hit me... I really don't know..."
Olivia's gaze suddenly turned to me, her eyes full of displeasure and anger: "You hit her?"
Arnold's gaze fell on Victoria's face, where the two slap marks were glaringly clear.
He looked at me, his voice cold without a trace of warmth: "Why did you hit someone?"
I raised my chin and spoke four words with dignity: "She deserved it."
Yes, I, Paisley, had never been an unreasonable person. But if someone crossed my bottom line, they had to pay the price.
My parents were my reverse scale.
Never mind two slaps—I had wanted to tear her mouth apart.
Arnold's eyes darkened as he questioned: "That's your reason for hitting someone?"
I responded with a cold laugh: "She called my father short-lived, said my mother was too, suggested she might have gotten the ring by 'selling' herself, and said I should die too."
"I didn't!" Victoria immediately denied in panic, shaking her head with tears: "Arnold, you have to believe me. How could I say such things? Miss Reynolds' father saved Scott—he's a hero in my heart... I've always respected him..."
She continued sobbing: "She called me a mistress first, a lover. She wronged me, and I couldn't stand it so I argued back... I had no idea what I did wrong... she just suddenly slapped me... she humiliated me... I really..."
Arnold narrowed his eyes and looked at the servants nearby: "Did she say those things?"
I noticed that several servants instinctively lowered their heads, not daring to speak.
Victoria came here every day, Olivia doted on her, and almost everyone in the Cavendish household tacitly accepted her as the "future mistress." Meanwhile, I had disappeared for five years and was rejected and despised by this family. Of course they knew who could and couldn't be offended.
I hardly expected anyone to testify for me.
Just then, a voice spoke up.
"Young master," a younger-looking maid courageously stepped forward, bit her lip and said: "The young madam did say... that Miss Hayes was a mistress, a lover... and said many very harsh things... then she suddenly hit Miss Hayes, who didn't even have time to react."
I looked at her without moving my gaze an inch. She had lied.
She chose the more "powerful" side.
Victoria immediately straightened up, as if someone was backing her: "Arnold, you see, I wasn't just slandering people..."
Arnold's expression grew even darker as he looked at me coldly: "Do you have anything else to say?"
Victoria's every word was like a poisoned arrow, stabbing viciously into my heart.
My father was a firefighter. That year when Scott was trapped in a fire, it was my father who rushed in recklessly to save him. But he himself, with burns covering over eighty percent of his body, ultimately... didn't survive.
He was my eternal hero, the cleanest and brightest existence in my heart.
And now, he was being so wantonly humiliated by this woman.
My whole body was trembling, my chest nearly bursting with rage. My gaze was as cold as ice blades stabbing toward her.
Victoria particularly enjoyed seeing me angry yet helpless against her. The corners of her mouth curved in a victorious arc as she sat there like a queen looking down from above.
She continued stabbing at my heart word by word: "Your father was short-lived, and so was your mother—she only lived to fifty, right? But I'm quite curious—your family was so poor you had to sell your lives, so how could your mother afford such a nice ring? Did she go and... 'sell' herself for it?"
"Slap!"
A resounding slap interrupted her wanton humiliation.
I didn't control myself. I didn't want to control myself.
I only knew that if I didn't fight back, I would go insane.
Her head was knocked to one side by my slap, red marks quickly appearing on her face. She stared at me in disbelief, as if she never expected I would actually dare hit her.
"You dare hit me? Paisley, you bitch actually dare—"
"Slap!"
Before she could finish, my second slap landed, harder than the first.
The entire room fell silent.
I could feel all the servants around us had stopped moving, the entire living room seeming frozen in an instant.
Then—
"Ahhhh—!!!"
She came to her senses, her scream deafening.
I stood there, chest heaving violently, anger still burning, my palm still trembling from the impact, but I didn't regret it. I even hated that I hadn't hit harder.
Just then, I saw Elodie—
She stood on the staircase, her big eyes looking at me without blinking. There was no fear in her eyes, but rather a bright light, as if she were looking at her most admired superhero.
Unfortunately, this quiet didn't last long.
Arnold and Olivia came out from the other side of the corridor.
Elodie quickly hid in a corner, her small figure pressed against the wall, motionless.
Victoria finally recovered, her hands covering her face tightly as tears slid down through her fingers.
Olivia quickly walked to her, her tone urgent: "What happened? Victoria? Who hit you?"
Victoria sniffled, tears streaming uncontrollably, looking pitiful: "Aunt... I don't know what I did wrong. She just suddenly hit me... I really don't know..."
Olivia's gaze suddenly turned to me, her eyes full of displeasure and anger: "You hit her?"
Arnold's gaze fell on Victoria's face, where the two slap marks were glaringly clear.
He looked at me, his voice cold without a trace of warmth: "Why did you hit someone?"
I raised my chin and spoke four words with dignity: "She deserved it."
Yes, I, Paisley, had never been an unreasonable person. But if someone crossed my bottom line, they had to pay the price.
My parents were my reverse scale.
Never mind two slaps—I had wanted to tear her mouth apart.
Arnold's eyes darkened as he questioned: "That's your reason for hitting someone?"
I responded with a cold laugh: "She called my father short-lived, said my mother was too, suggested she might have gotten the ring by 'selling' herself, and said I should die too."
"I didn't!" Victoria immediately denied in panic, shaking her head with tears: "Arnold, you have to believe me. How could I say such things? Miss Reynolds' father saved Scott—he's a hero in my heart... I've always respected him..."
She continued sobbing: "She called me a mistress first, a lover. She wronged me, and I couldn't stand it so I argued back... I had no idea what I did wrong... she just suddenly slapped me... she humiliated me... I really..."
Arnold narrowed his eyes and looked at the servants nearby: "Did she say those things?"
I noticed that several servants instinctively lowered their heads, not daring to speak.
Victoria came here every day, Olivia doted on her, and almost everyone in the Cavendish household tacitly accepted her as the "future mistress." Meanwhile, I had disappeared for five years and was rejected and despised by this family. Of course they knew who could and couldn't be offended.
I hardly expected anyone to testify for me.
Just then, a voice spoke up.
"Young master," a younger-looking maid courageously stepped forward, bit her lip and said: "The young madam did say... that Miss Hayes was a mistress, a lover... and said many very harsh things... then she suddenly hit Miss Hayes, who didn't even have time to react."
I looked at her without moving my gaze an inch. She had lied.
She chose the more "powerful" side.
Victoria immediately straightened up, as if someone was backing her: "Arnold, you see, I wasn't just slandering people..."
Arnold's expression grew even darker as he looked at me coldly: "Do you have anything else to say?"
End of Left at the Altar with His Triplets: The Billionaire Begs for Forgiveness Chapter 29. Continue reading Chapter 30 or return to Left at the Altar with His Triplets: The Billionaire Begs for Forgiveness book page.