Your Regrets Won't Bring Me Back - Chapter 148: Chapter 148
You are reading Your Regrets Won't Bring Me Back, Chapter 148: Chapter 148. Read more chapters of Your Regrets Won't Bring Me Back.
He motioned to the giant screen. "In that photo my girlfriend is clearly being forced. Adaline, Miss Bennett, pray tell—what movement of hers suggests she was seducing Victor Whitmore?"
Adaline's face shifted, and she lowered her head.
Annabelle clamped her lips together, nails digging into her palms. She had meant to ruin Elena's name; instead Sir Whitmore had slapped her down in public, and Elena had produced an even more impressive boyfriend.
What stung most was that Elena's boyfriend seemed far superior to hers. How was that fair? That impostor deserved to dig for men in the trash!
Mother and daughter found themselves utterly speechless.
Simon addressed Annabelle, his tone clipped. "Miss Bennett, woman to woman, stop making trouble for your own gender. If your boyfriend's unfaithful, handle it in private. Parade it here for laughs, and you'll only humiliate yourself."
Then his gaze sliced toward Victor like a blade. "And you, Nephew, keep yourself in check. Don't harbor any further fantasies about your Aunt Elena."
Victor's eyes narrowed, hatred and frustration simmering in their depths.
He refused to believe it—Simon had to be protecting Elena's reputation, nothing more!
"Nonsense, Uncle. You've barely been back—how could you get together with her so fast?"
Simon lifted a brow. "Why couldn't I?"
Victor gave a derisive snort and sneered at Elena. "Uncle, you don't know—Elena's been in love with me for ten years. She begged to marry me. A woman like that would fall for you overnight?"
Elena's gaze turned icy, then she suddenly chuckled.
"Victor, you're Simon's nephew, so I'd rather not be too harsh. But since you insist on making a scene, I won't hold back."
She turned to Simon, eyes shining as though admiring a man she'd secretly adored for years.
"Your uncle is handsome, gentle, capable, fit—superior to you in every respect. Why would I pass him up just to hang myself from your..." She paused deliberately.
Crooked tree, the unspoken words dangling in the air.
Victor's face darkened to pitch; his fists clenched of their own accord as he glared daggers at Elena.
Elena Bennett hooked her arm through Simon Whitmore's and leaned against him like a trusting sparrow, a bright, contented smile blooming on her face.
Victor Whitmore's stare seemed nailed to the couple; he all but bored holes through Elena, desperate to march over and whisk her away. Yet the voice of reason hissed that he had forfeited every right to do so.
Victor wondered, 'If I'd had the guts to claim Elena as my girlfriend before Simon stepped forward, would any of this be happening?'
Sir Whitmore's grin never wavered. Beaming at Elena, he said, "Elena, your taste keeps improving. My son may be a touch older than you, but he can cook, he knows how to pamper a woman, and his heart is pure gold.
"Besides—" he leaned closer with a conspiratorial wink—"he also..."
Sir Whitmore bent to whisper the rest in her ear, and Elena's cheeks flamed scarlet.
Chuckling, he straightened, then caught sight of Victor and smacked him smartly on the shoulder.
"You little rascal! We'll settle accounts at home—now hurry up and greet your aunt!" he barked.
Adaline's face shifted, and she lowered her head.
Annabelle clamped her lips together, nails digging into her palms. She had meant to ruin Elena's name; instead Sir Whitmore had slapped her down in public, and Elena had produced an even more impressive boyfriend.
What stung most was that Elena's boyfriend seemed far superior to hers. How was that fair? That impostor deserved to dig for men in the trash!
Mother and daughter found themselves utterly speechless.
Simon addressed Annabelle, his tone clipped. "Miss Bennett, woman to woman, stop making trouble for your own gender. If your boyfriend's unfaithful, handle it in private. Parade it here for laughs, and you'll only humiliate yourself."
Then his gaze sliced toward Victor like a blade. "And you, Nephew, keep yourself in check. Don't harbor any further fantasies about your Aunt Elena."
Victor's eyes narrowed, hatred and frustration simmering in their depths.
He refused to believe it—Simon had to be protecting Elena's reputation, nothing more!
"Nonsense, Uncle. You've barely been back—how could you get together with her so fast?"
Simon lifted a brow. "Why couldn't I?"
Victor gave a derisive snort and sneered at Elena. "Uncle, you don't know—Elena's been in love with me for ten years. She begged to marry me. A woman like that would fall for you overnight?"
Elena's gaze turned icy, then she suddenly chuckled.
"Victor, you're Simon's nephew, so I'd rather not be too harsh. But since you insist on making a scene, I won't hold back."
She turned to Simon, eyes shining as though admiring a man she'd secretly adored for years.
"Your uncle is handsome, gentle, capable, fit—superior to you in every respect. Why would I pass him up just to hang myself from your..." She paused deliberately.
Crooked tree, the unspoken words dangling in the air.
Victor's face darkened to pitch; his fists clenched of their own accord as he glared daggers at Elena.
Elena Bennett hooked her arm through Simon Whitmore's and leaned against him like a trusting sparrow, a bright, contented smile blooming on her face.
Victor Whitmore's stare seemed nailed to the couple; he all but bored holes through Elena, desperate to march over and whisk her away. Yet the voice of reason hissed that he had forfeited every right to do so.
Victor wondered, 'If I'd had the guts to claim Elena as my girlfriend before Simon stepped forward, would any of this be happening?'
Sir Whitmore's grin never wavered. Beaming at Elena, he said, "Elena, your taste keeps improving. My son may be a touch older than you, but he can cook, he knows how to pamper a woman, and his heart is pure gold.
"Besides—" he leaned closer with a conspiratorial wink—"he also..."
Sir Whitmore bent to whisper the rest in her ear, and Elena's cheeks flamed scarlet.
Chuckling, he straightened, then caught sight of Victor and smacked him smartly on the shoulder.
"You little rascal! We'll settle accounts at home—now hurry up and greet your aunt!" he barked.
End of Your Regrets Won't Bring Me Back Chapter 148. Continue reading Chapter 149 or return to Your Regrets Won't Bring Me Back book page.