Their Queen's Back - Chapter 57: Chapter 57

The butler froze for a moment, then pulled himself together, his face tinged with embarrassment. Holding his breath, he turned and left to call for help. "What nonsense," he thought to himself. "Aren't they just trying to cozy up to the Moores?"
He'd seen plenty of people like that before.
"Tch, acting all high and mighty," he scoffed inwardly.
Ethan heard Rachel had returned drunk again. He ran his fingers through his hair, removed his glasses and placed them on the table before rising irritably. Without even looking, he barked, "Hand her over. Butler, pay her off and send her away."
Skye tightened her protective hold on Rachel, her dark eyes flashing with deadly intent.
Skye shot Lauren a look, and Lauren instantly got the message. Without hesitation, she stepped forward and slapped Ethan hard across the face.
"You!" Ethan reeled back, half his face stinging from the unexpected force. Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined a woman could hit this hard—let alone slap him out of nowhere like this.
"You're dead—" The threat froze on Ethan's lips as his eyes locked onto Skye's face. His pupils dilated violently, and he stared at her in utter disbelief.
The butler bellowed, "Who the hell are you people? How dare you lay hands on our young master!"
"Shut up and get out of here," Ethan snapped.
The butler didn't dare say another word and meekly withdrew.
Ethan's voice trembled as he stared at her, unable to look away. He pinched himself, just to be sure he wasn't dreaming. Only then did he manage to speak: "Skye? Is that really you?"
Skye held Rachel protectively and swept past Ethan without a glance. Ethan, feeling a pang of guilt and ignoring the stinging red handprint on his cheek, hurried after them.
"Let me, let me," Ethan said eagerly. "I'll take her back to her room."
Ethan tried to take Rachel from Skye's arms, but Skye didn't even glance at him. She turned to Lauren and ordered, "You carry her upstairs to rest."
Skye simply replied, "Yes."
Ethan motioned for a servant to lead the way and personally served Skye a cup of tea. His voice trembling, he said, "Skye, is it really you? We all thought you were... When did you return?"
Skye raised her eyes and met his gaze squarely. The youthful softness had long faded, replaced by a mature vigor. His broad frame and chiseled features embodied the elite aristocrat Rachel often described. Yet the faint detachment in his eyes lent his presence an icy edge.
Ethan, answer me this—do you want your family broken or whole?
Hearing this, Ethan froze for a moment, then fished out a cigarette and lit it, as if to steady himself. His eyes clouded over with complicated emotion, and when he finally spoke, his voice was rough, laced with quiet resignation.
"Skye, you don't understand," Ethan said, his voice rough with resignation. "There's no going back for us now."
"Fine. I get it," Skye cut him off decisively.
Ethan's Adam's apple bobbed as he struggled for words. After a long pause, he finally said, his voice hoarse, "I'm sorry for what I've done to her. But Skye, if you were in my place, you'd have broken down too. Rachel... she's not the girl I remember anymore. If I could, I'd want nothing more than to be with her. Skye, I'm hurting, and so is she. Maybe it's better for both of us to just let go, instead of hurting each other any longer."
Skye sneered, "Don't make excuses to justify your cheating in front of me, Ethan. She gave you everything, yet you stabbed her in the back. Look at you now, Mr. Moore—so high and mighty. Have you forgotten that stormy night, when a girl risked her life to help you secure your power, taking your place in a car destined to crash?"
Ethan felt as if something heavy had dropped into his heart, sending ripples through him. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, Skye stood up and strode out without looking back.
"Let me walk you out," Ethan said, hesitating for a moment.
Skye said coldly, "No need, Ethan. This isn't about torment—it's your guilty conscience. I'm not involved, so I won't interfere. But from now on, if you ever make her shed a single tear, I'll make you pay with your flesh. I mean every word, and tonight is just the beginning."
With that, Skye's icy eyes blazed with murderous intent. She swung the glass vase at Ethan's head, bringing it crashing down—blood instantly gushed from the wound, pouring down his face.
The butler and servants gasped in horror. Blood still streaming down his face, Ethan raised a hand and ordered coldly, "Everyone out."
Ethan kept his head down. Only when he heard the click of her high heels fading away did he slowly look up, his eyes following her retreating figure.
Skye sat in the car, but Lauren could sense the oppressive aura of seething hatred radiating from her.
"Ms. Sky, I'll have all the information about Ms. Phoenix over the years ready for you by tomorrow morning."
Right.
Skye gazed out the window, lost in thought. In her mind's eye, she saw the vivacious girl Rachel used to be—now pale as snow, lying in a hospital bed. When Rachel saw her, she struggled to summon a faint smile.
Rachel said softly, "Skye, Ethan's older brother is in prison now, so no one can threaten his position anymore—he's the sole heir to the Moore family."
Battered and bruised all over, Rachel shone with more joy than ever before.
At seventeen, Rachel cherished beauty like any other girl—yet her back bore scars, cruel remnants of the crash. Knowing full well it was a trap, she walked in alone, sacrificing herself to clear the path for the one she loved.
If the day ever came when we truly parted ways, I'd make sure Ethan paid for it—with a car crash of his own.
After hastily bandaging his head wound, Ethan fetched a warm towel and gently wiped his wife's cheeks as she lay on the bed. As he carefully removed her qipao, his fingers trembled—there, barely visible unless one looked closely, were over a dozen faint scars crisscrossing her back.
Ethan's heart seized as if crushed by invisible hands, choking off his breath. His throat burned with a sharp, constricting pain—like something was lodged there, suffocating him.
"Rachel." Ethan pressed a lingering kiss between her shoulder blades, as if steeling himself for something. His voice emerged rough but resolute: "We're not getting divorced."
"Ms. Sky, shall we return to Velvet Lounge?"
"Sophia's not back yet?"
Lauren: "Not yet."
Skye nodded. "Yeah, I could use a drink too," she thought. Hard to believe how much can change in ten years.
"Lauren, have a seat and join me for a drink," Ms. Sky invited.
"Understood, Ms. Sky." Lauren gave a brief nod.
Skye watched as Sophia chatted animatedly with her classmates, then let her gaze drift to the glass in her hand.
The bald man snarled, "I said, get on your knees! Kneel! Today, I'm buying you with this drink!"
At the next table, a bald guy sporting a thick gold chain barked at another man.
Jason stood his ground, holding his drink, completely unfazed.
The woman beside the bald man kept eyeing Jason up and down, her predatory gaze roaming over him with obvious bad intentions.
"Hey, pretty boy, what's your rate for the night? I'm buying you out."
The bald man barked, "You deaf or what? My sister's talking to you! Answer her, now!"
Jason said firmly, "Sorry, that's not in my job description."
The moment Jason turned to leave, the bald thug lashed out with a vicious kick to his back.
Jason stumbled forward and crashed to the floor, the wine bottle shattering beside him. The spilled red liquid looked utterly ordinary under the lights—nothing compared to the striking crimson stain now smeared across his sharp, handsome face.
"Don't know when to quit, do you? Who the hell do you think you are? Even if I beat you to a pulp right now, you'd deserve every bit of it. Now get your ass up!"
Jason struggled to his feet, wincing as he slowly rose. At the sound of the commotion, the manager stormed over, took one look at Jason's sorry state, and snarled, "Useless! Can't even handle a simple job? One more screw-up and I'm docking your pay. Get the hell out of here—or do I need to drag you out myself?"
Jason mumbled an apology and was about to leave, but the bald man blocked his way. "Hold it! Who said you could leave?"
The manager put on his most ingratiating smile and bowed repeatedly. "Esteemed guests, our deepest apologies! He doesn't know any better—please don't be upset, please don't be upset. All your drinks tonight are on the house."
Back off! I'm talking—who the hell asked you to butt in?
The manager's expression soured momentarily, but this wasn't his first rodeo. He quickly recomposed himself professionally.
"Esteemed guest, esteemed guest, this is entirely his fault! Let him offer his apologies—would that be acceptable? Please, can we just let this go? There are so many people watching..."
"Who gives a damn? Pretty boy, get over here! My sister's calling you—are you deaf or what? Move your ass, now!"
Jason clenched his fists, his muscles coiled tight as he stood rigidly straight. Skye recognized him instantly—the boy Emily had once asked to deliver her love letter. "He seems like a good student, too," she thought.
"Ms. Sky, his name is Jason—the Fosters' illegitimate son they cast out. They know who he is, but they've never acknowledged him."
"Oh? The Fosters?" Skye's interest was piqued.
Lauren continued to explain, "Yes, Ms. Sky. He isn't exactly an illegitimate child in the traditional sense. Years ago, the head of the Foster family married his first love, but abandoned her for an arranged marriage. After having both a son and a daughter with his current wife, he reunited with his first love and had a child with her."
Skye had already investigated everyone involved in disputes with Miss Emily, but this one stood out—Jason was only sixteen, having skipped grades to attend the prep school.
Lauren noticed the glint of amusement in Skye's eyes and asked quietly, "Ms. Sky, shall we step in?"
Skye picked up her glass and took a slow sip. Lauren, reading her subtle cue, rose gracefully and made her way toward Jason.
You, come pour drinks for Miss Skye.
Jason turned at the sound of the voice and found himself face-to-face with Skye—her beauty so stunning it made his heart skip a beat. With an icy allure and a regal, powerful presence, she seemed utterly untouchable.
She sat there, her porcelain hands cradling a wine glass, her ethereal face an impassive mask. Yet her very presence rendered everything—and everyone—around her distant and untouchable, as if she existed in another world.
"Yes, Ms. Sky," Jason replied meekly, lowering his head as he approached to pour her wine.
The bald man immediately lost his temper, charged over and jabbed a finger in Lauren's face, his features twisted in rage. Snarling, he spat, "Who the hell do you think you are, daring to cross me? Wanna die, bitch?"
No sooner had he spoken than Lauren grabbed the finger he was pointing at her and snapped it. A piercing scream tore from his throat.
The man's agonized scream didn't disrupt the mood in the club at all—the music suddenly blasted at five times its previous volume, completely drowning out his cries.
The manager fiddled with his phone, his face alight with vindictive satisfaction—he was practically itching to spit in that bastard's face.
"Get the hell out of my sight—the farther, the better."
After sending the two troublemakers packing, Lauren calmly returned to her seat beside Skye.
Jason stood nervously to the side, swallowing hard. "Thank you, Miss Skye," he said quietly.
Skye waved him off dismissively. Jason's heart, already racing, pounded even harder at her gesture. He gave a respectful nod before making a quick exit.
Jason shuffled backstage, head lowered, and murmured to the manager, "Manager, I broke a bottle of wine tonight."
The manager shot him a glare. "Alright, alright, I heard you. Now get lost! You're always causing trouble everywhere. If you're late again tomorrow, don't even bother showing up—understood?"
"Thank you, Manager. I understand," Jason said quietly.
"Get lost! Get the hell out!" the manager snapped impatiently, shooing him away.
A woman sashayed out and sneered, "Wow, you've got some nerve, hiring a minor to work here!"
The manager let out a weary sigh. "What can I do? Trouble always finds the ones who have it the hardest. That kid's dirt poor—even though he goes to a prep school."
"Prep school? Seriously? Aren't all those kids born with silver spoons? Why would one of them ever need to work in a place like this?"
The manager guessed, "Probably an illegitimate kid—just sixteen."
Sophia hadn't touched alcohol all night, sticking to juice instead. As she was about to leave, Maggie and Lisa clung to her legs, bawling their eyes out.
Maggie wailed, clinging to Sophia, "Sophia! We were such snobs—how did we never see how genuine you are all this time?"
Lisa exclaimed, "Sophia, you're literally the first person I've ever truly admired! Even though your family disowned you and life's been tough, you're so damn extraordinary—the way you carry yourself inspires us all!"
"Sophia, I'm so sorry! I was the one who set up that waiter to humiliate you. God, I'm such a petty jerk—you were totally right about me. Who the hell am I to look down on anyone? My family's just a bunch of tacky nouveau riche anyway!"
Lisa clung to Sophia, sobbing, "Sophia, me too—I'm so sorry! I shouldn't have always tried to trip you up. I was being petty and mean."
Sophia peeled the two drunk girls off herself and hurried outside. "God, drunk people are terrifying," she thought.
Sophia was just about to hail a cab when a familiar jacket—carrying a cool, floral scent—was draped over her shoulders. Her face lit up with joy as she whirled around. "Sis!"
Skye gave a faint smile. "Mm. Let's go home."
Sophia's heart soared with excitement. She threw her arms around Skye and nuzzled against her. "Sis! When did you get here? Did you come all the way just to pick me up?"
"I came to see a friend," Skye said calmly.
"What a coincidence, Sis! Let's go home together!"
After hours of gaming, Emily stepped out of her room, about to grab a snack—only to run into Skye and Sophia coming home together, looking closer than ever.
Emily immediately ducked into a corner, holding her breath.
Guess what, Sis! I landed the deal, and Ms. Anna even took me along...
Sophia eagerly recounted to Skye everything that had happened to her over the past few days.
"You're exceptional, Sophia," Skye praised.
"Sis, you've been drinking, right? Go freshen up first—I'll make you something to help you sober up, okay?"
Skye looked into Sophia's sparkling, expectant eyes and gently ruffled her hair. "I've already asked Wendy to prepare it. Sophia, would you bring it up for me?"
"Okay, Sis! I'll get it right away. You head on up," Sophia said eagerly.
Sophia bolted excitedly toward the kitchen, her bag missing the sofa entirely as she tossed it aside.
Skye shook her head with a helpless chuckle, picked up the bag from the floor, and headed upstairs.
Emily clutched the hem of her dress tightly, lips pouting, her almond-shaped eyes welling up with tears. "They went out and had fun behind my back!" she thought, feeling left out.
Emily thought bitterly, "It's like my heart's not just broken—it's been swept up and tossed in the trash by them."
"Betrayal!"
The word burned in Emily's mind.
We just had dinner together, but she still sneaked out behind my back!
"Isn't this outright betrayal!" Emily thought, her anger simmering.
Ugh, Sophia, that awful woman! All she ever does is suck up—why does she have to be so insufferable? Emily fumed inwardly.
"And her too! I haven't even forgiven her yet, and she's already running around with Sophia again," she fumed inwardly.
So in her heart, am I not even family? Is Sophia the only one who matters to her?
"I don't care, Skye! I don't want you as my sister anymore. I don't!"
"I hate you now!" Emily fumed inwardly.
"T-tomorrow... I-I'm not going to the amusement park with you either!" she fumed inwardly.
Emily dashed into her room and slammed the door shut. Wendy, noticing the door had just closed, paused for a moment and recalled Miss Skye's instructions.
"I noticed Emily didn't eat much at dinner. She's at that growing age—Wendy, please prepare her a midnight snack later."
With that, Wendy handed the hangover remedy to Sophia and headed upstairs with a bowl of noodles.
Sophia eyed what Wendy was carrying. "Wendy, who's that for?"
"Miss Sophia, Miss Skye was concerned that Emily hadn't eaten enough, so she asked me to prepare some late-night snacks for her."
Sophia gave a curt "Hmph," her footsteps pounding up the stairs with visible irritation.
That little brat Emily! She's deliberately skipping meals just to get Sis's attention. How shameless!
Wendy looked on in confusion as the fuming Miss Sophia stormed off, then carried the food toward Emily's room.