Oops, You Dumped A Billionaire - Chapter 6: Chapter 6
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Her voice turned razor-sharp. "This is all that wretched woman's fault! God knows where she dug up that mangy mutt—it came out of nowhere and sank its teeth into me!" She clutched her ankle dramatically, turning to Walton with crocodile tears. "Mr. Gries, you have to defend me here!"
I nearly gagged watching Margot's Oscar-worthy performance. My twelve-year-old Pekingese barely had teeth left—if he'd actually bitten her, there'd be more drool than damage. The "injury" was just faint pink mark.
Walton barely glanced at her ankle before rolling his eyes at the theatrics. But when his gaze landed on the shivering ball of fur in my arms, recognition flashed across his face. "Wait... I've seen this dog before." His voice dropped. "This afternoon at the Fitzgerald estate. Mrs. Fitzgerald was cradling one just like it."
The room went dead silent.
"No way!" Margot's shrill laugh cracked mid-scoff. "The Fitzgeralds? Please—people like them would never own some flea-bitten stray. They'd have championship bloodlines with papers!"
"You don't know the Fitzgeralds," Walton countered, eyeing me curiously. "They don't play those status games."
I liked this guy—he got it. Most bluebloods treat pets like designer accessories, but our family? We rescue strays. Found this poodle trembling in a rainstorm when I was eight—one look at those terrified eyes and he was coming home. Twelve years later, here we are.
The color drained from Margot's face as the implications hit. Her minions froze like deer in headlights, their earlier bravado evaporating.
"But—but if it's theirs..." Margot's finger jabbed at me like a knife, "then she must've stolen it!" Her voice climbed an octave. "First trespassing, now theft? You're done for!"
I almost pitied her. In her tiny world, someone like me could only be either a country bumpkin or a criminal—never someone who actually belonged here.
Her sycophants quickly found their voices again: "Look at her—total thief vibes!" "Margot was just trying to help!" Their cowardice was almost impressive—throwing punches from the safety of Margot's shadow.
Then Kieran, hesitant, asked the question hanging in the air: "Lila... are you... connected to the Fitzgeralds somehow?"
Margot cut him off with a bark of laughter. "Don't be ridiculous! You told me she was some nobody from Hicksville! If she was a Fitzgerald, why would she slum it with you?"
Kieran flinched like she'd slapped him. Meanwhile, Walton studied me with dawning realization. "Now that I look... you have Mrs. Fitzgerald's eyes."
Holding his gaze, I said simply: "That's because she's my mother. And this?" I gestured around us. "This is home."
I nearly gagged watching Margot's Oscar-worthy performance. My twelve-year-old Pekingese barely had teeth left—if he'd actually bitten her, there'd be more drool than damage. The "injury" was just faint pink mark.
Walton barely glanced at her ankle before rolling his eyes at the theatrics. But when his gaze landed on the shivering ball of fur in my arms, recognition flashed across his face. "Wait... I've seen this dog before." His voice dropped. "This afternoon at the Fitzgerald estate. Mrs. Fitzgerald was cradling one just like it."
The room went dead silent.
"No way!" Margot's shrill laugh cracked mid-scoff. "The Fitzgeralds? Please—people like them would never own some flea-bitten stray. They'd have championship bloodlines with papers!"
"You don't know the Fitzgeralds," Walton countered, eyeing me curiously. "They don't play those status games."
I liked this guy—he got it. Most bluebloods treat pets like designer accessories, but our family? We rescue strays. Found this poodle trembling in a rainstorm when I was eight—one look at those terrified eyes and he was coming home. Twelve years later, here we are.
The color drained from Margot's face as the implications hit. Her minions froze like deer in headlights, their earlier bravado evaporating.
"But—but if it's theirs..." Margot's finger jabbed at me like a knife, "then she must've stolen it!" Her voice climbed an octave. "First trespassing, now theft? You're done for!"
I almost pitied her. In her tiny world, someone like me could only be either a country bumpkin or a criminal—never someone who actually belonged here.
Her sycophants quickly found their voices again: "Look at her—total thief vibes!" "Margot was just trying to help!" Their cowardice was almost impressive—throwing punches from the safety of Margot's shadow.
Then Kieran, hesitant, asked the question hanging in the air: "Lila... are you... connected to the Fitzgeralds somehow?"
Margot cut him off with a bark of laughter. "Don't be ridiculous! You told me she was some nobody from Hicksville! If she was a Fitzgerald, why would she slum it with you?"
Kieran flinched like she'd slapped him. Meanwhile, Walton studied me with dawning realization. "Now that I look... you have Mrs. Fitzgerald's eyes."
Holding his gaze, I said simply: "That's because she's my mother. And this?" I gestured around us. "This is home."
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