Your Regrets Won't Bring Me Back - Chapter 37: Chapter 37
You are reading Your Regrets Won't Bring Me Back, Chapter 37: Chapter 37. Read more chapters of Your Regrets Won't Bring Me Back.
Julian snarled, "Sir Whitmore postponed Annie and Victor's engagement banquet today. You could have stood up for her—you know the old man adores you. One word from you and he might have let the banquet continue.
But you did nothing; you just sat there playing the victim. Elena, what kind of twisted game are you playing?"
Annabelle bit her lip, tears drenching her cheeks as she pleaded, "Brother, please don't scold Elena. Maybe she never meant to give Victor up at all... It's my fault. I overreached. I never should have agreed to marry him."
Lawrence Bennett slammed his palm on the table. "Elena! You were the one who agreed to break off the engagement in the first place. Now you're going back on your word—are you deliberately trying to ruin Annie?"
Elena looked at the four of them and let out a desolate laugh. "Ruin her? So I foresaw that Sir Whitmore would object today? I had no idea I was so gifted at prophecy. If I truly could see the future, I'd have chosen never to be your daughter."
The chill in Elena's eyes seemed to freeze the very air.
Suddenly Lawrence exploded, striding over and swinging a vicious slap across her face.
The blow was so hard it knocked her to the floor; her arm crashed against the coffee table.
A dull ringing filled her ears, muting every other sound, and her cheek went numb, stripped of all sensation.
Lawrence roared, "You ungrateful brat! We've fed and clothed you for twenty years, and this is how you repay us!"
Slowly Elena lifted her head. She swept her gaze over each of them, hatred blazing as though it could devour everything in the room.
Adaline suddenly noticed a bright bead of blood sliding down Elena's arm.
Adaline gasped, "Elena, your arm—"
The earlier impact had torn open a festering wound, and fresh blood now seeped out.
Only then did Julian and Lawrence seem to remember that her body was already covered in injuries.
Lawrence exhaled heavily and muttered, "Go get some rest."
Expressionless, Elena pushed herself up from the floor and returned to her room.
The servant-quarter walls were paper-thin, so even in bed Elena heard them crooning over Annie for ages.
Then their voices shifted, anxious and sharp—Bennett Corporation's stock was falling, and they blamed the day's fiasco.
Before long, someone knocked on her door.
Adaline called softly from the corridor, "Elena, are you asleep? It's Mom."
Elena answered, "I'm awake."
Adaline opened the door and walked toward her with a face full of maternal tenderness. "Sweetheart, does your cheek still hurt? How are your injuries? Feeling any better?"
Yet moments ago, when Lawrence and Julian were condemning and striking her, this same woman hadn't spoken a single word in her defense. Now she wore the mask of motherly concern.
Elena knew exactly what such a sudden change in attitude meant.
Rolling up her sleeve, Elena asked coldly, "Do these look as though they're healing to you?"
Many of the wounds had festered and formed keloid scars; even if they closed, the marks would stay forever.
Adaline clutched her chest. "It's all my fault. If I'd come to see you, this never would've happened."
Elena remained silent.
Wiping her tears, Adaline said, "Elena, your father and brother spoke too harshly just now—I've already scolded them. I'm here because I need your help with something."
A single remark about 'harsh words' brushed aside the slap that had left Elena's face still swollen.
But you did nothing; you just sat there playing the victim. Elena, what kind of twisted game are you playing?"
Annabelle bit her lip, tears drenching her cheeks as she pleaded, "Brother, please don't scold Elena. Maybe she never meant to give Victor up at all... It's my fault. I overreached. I never should have agreed to marry him."
Lawrence Bennett slammed his palm on the table. "Elena! You were the one who agreed to break off the engagement in the first place. Now you're going back on your word—are you deliberately trying to ruin Annie?"
Elena looked at the four of them and let out a desolate laugh. "Ruin her? So I foresaw that Sir Whitmore would object today? I had no idea I was so gifted at prophecy. If I truly could see the future, I'd have chosen never to be your daughter."
The chill in Elena's eyes seemed to freeze the very air.
Suddenly Lawrence exploded, striding over and swinging a vicious slap across her face.
The blow was so hard it knocked her to the floor; her arm crashed against the coffee table.
A dull ringing filled her ears, muting every other sound, and her cheek went numb, stripped of all sensation.
Lawrence roared, "You ungrateful brat! We've fed and clothed you for twenty years, and this is how you repay us!"
Slowly Elena lifted her head. She swept her gaze over each of them, hatred blazing as though it could devour everything in the room.
Adaline suddenly noticed a bright bead of blood sliding down Elena's arm.
Adaline gasped, "Elena, your arm—"
The earlier impact had torn open a festering wound, and fresh blood now seeped out.
Only then did Julian and Lawrence seem to remember that her body was already covered in injuries.
Lawrence exhaled heavily and muttered, "Go get some rest."
Expressionless, Elena pushed herself up from the floor and returned to her room.
The servant-quarter walls were paper-thin, so even in bed Elena heard them crooning over Annie for ages.
Then their voices shifted, anxious and sharp—Bennett Corporation's stock was falling, and they blamed the day's fiasco.
Before long, someone knocked on her door.
Adaline called softly from the corridor, "Elena, are you asleep? It's Mom."
Elena answered, "I'm awake."
Adaline opened the door and walked toward her with a face full of maternal tenderness. "Sweetheart, does your cheek still hurt? How are your injuries? Feeling any better?"
Yet moments ago, when Lawrence and Julian were condemning and striking her, this same woman hadn't spoken a single word in her defense. Now she wore the mask of motherly concern.
Elena knew exactly what such a sudden change in attitude meant.
Rolling up her sleeve, Elena asked coldly, "Do these look as though they're healing to you?"
Many of the wounds had festered and formed keloid scars; even if they closed, the marks would stay forever.
Adaline clutched her chest. "It's all my fault. If I'd come to see you, this never would've happened."
Elena remained silent.
Wiping her tears, Adaline said, "Elena, your father and brother spoke too harshly just now—I've already scolded them. I'm here because I need your help with something."
A single remark about 'harsh words' brushed aside the slap that had left Elena's face still swollen.
End of Your Regrets Won't Bring Me Back Chapter 37. Continue reading Chapter 38 or return to Your Regrets Won't Bring Me Back book page.