Your Regrets Won't Bring Me Back - Chapter 41: Chapter 41
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Elena lifted her gaze to meet hers.
Annabelle meant for her to admit, in front of the cameras, that the engagement was over—that there was no longer any possibility between her and Victor Whitmore.
Yet even without Elena, could Annabelle truly marry Victor so smoothly?
Elena curved her lips into an unreadable smile and spoke slowly. "Mr. Victor Whitmore and I have indeed canceled our engagement. As for why their engagement banquet has been postponed, only those involved would know—it has nothing to do with me."
Before she finished the echo of her words, Adaline whisked the microphone away. "Sorry, my daughter needs rest. Today's press conference ends here."
With that, she pulled Elena to her feet and led her out.
Inside the car
While Julian drove, Adaline kept motherly hold of Elena's hand. "Elena, don't blame Mom for today. If this crisis isn't resolved, the company will suffer huge losses—surely you don't want that."
Elena let out a cold laugh. "So you toss me out there, claiming I was the problem—only then would someone beat me?"
Adaline's brows knitted. "Elena, that's not what I meant. Things happened exactly as we said—how else could we explain it?"
Elena's chest felt as though a knife twisted inside. "Is that the truth? Did I steal something? Did you ever visit me? Do you know I was beaten because I misbehaved? If it's really true, why didn't you dare hand me the microphone at the press conference?"
Her barrage of questions left Adaline utterly speechless.
She simply had no answer.
Annabelle clutched Elena's sleeve, her voice breaking as she sobbed, "Elena, please don't be like this. It's my fault—I should be the one locked up and suffering, not you..."
Lawrence Bennett, seated in the front passenger seat, slammed his palm against the dashboard and barked, "Enough!
Elena, I know you still can't get past this and you think we ruined you, but hear me—even if Annie had gone in your place, no one would have dared beat her the way they beat you!"
Elena let out a brittle laugh. "Of course they wouldn't! All of you know perfectly well who really put these bruises on my body."
At that moment the car lurched violently to the right; tyres shrieked and the vehicle skidded to an abrupt halt.
Julian Bennett flung his door open, yanked the rear door wide, and dragged Elena out by the arm in a fit of rage.
"Elena Bennett, do you even have a heart?" he shouted. "The moment I learned you were being abused, I raced around all night digging for evidence. Didn't you see me avenge you? I've done so much—what more do you want?"
She scoffed, "Avenge me? Are you helping me, or just trying to ease your guilty conscience?"
Julian's eyes blazed. "You're an ungrateful wretch! If that's what you think of me, then walk home by yourself!"
With that, he shoved her aside, climbed back into the car, and sped off.
Elena stared after the retreating tail-lights, a string of hollow, desolate laughter slipping from her lips.
Moments ago that same brother had denounced domestic violence and boasted of spoiling her; now he had abandoned her on the roadside.
What bitter irony.
She set off for home on foot; every step jabbed like a knife, yet her face remained as expressionless as a corpse.
A black Rolls-Royce Phantom rolled to a stop beside her.
The window glided down, revealing Victor Whitmore's deep-set eyes. "Get in," he said.
Elena glanced at him, then looked away. "Thanks, but no. Save your car for Annabelle, President Whitmore."
Annabelle meant for her to admit, in front of the cameras, that the engagement was over—that there was no longer any possibility between her and Victor Whitmore.
Yet even without Elena, could Annabelle truly marry Victor so smoothly?
Elena curved her lips into an unreadable smile and spoke slowly. "Mr. Victor Whitmore and I have indeed canceled our engagement. As for why their engagement banquet has been postponed, only those involved would know—it has nothing to do with me."
Before she finished the echo of her words, Adaline whisked the microphone away. "Sorry, my daughter needs rest. Today's press conference ends here."
With that, she pulled Elena to her feet and led her out.
Inside the car
While Julian drove, Adaline kept motherly hold of Elena's hand. "Elena, don't blame Mom for today. If this crisis isn't resolved, the company will suffer huge losses—surely you don't want that."
Elena let out a cold laugh. "So you toss me out there, claiming I was the problem—only then would someone beat me?"
Adaline's brows knitted. "Elena, that's not what I meant. Things happened exactly as we said—how else could we explain it?"
Elena's chest felt as though a knife twisted inside. "Is that the truth? Did I steal something? Did you ever visit me? Do you know I was beaten because I misbehaved? If it's really true, why didn't you dare hand me the microphone at the press conference?"
Her barrage of questions left Adaline utterly speechless.
She simply had no answer.
Annabelle clutched Elena's sleeve, her voice breaking as she sobbed, "Elena, please don't be like this. It's my fault—I should be the one locked up and suffering, not you..."
Lawrence Bennett, seated in the front passenger seat, slammed his palm against the dashboard and barked, "Enough!
Elena, I know you still can't get past this and you think we ruined you, but hear me—even if Annie had gone in your place, no one would have dared beat her the way they beat you!"
Elena let out a brittle laugh. "Of course they wouldn't! All of you know perfectly well who really put these bruises on my body."
At that moment the car lurched violently to the right; tyres shrieked and the vehicle skidded to an abrupt halt.
Julian Bennett flung his door open, yanked the rear door wide, and dragged Elena out by the arm in a fit of rage.
"Elena Bennett, do you even have a heart?" he shouted. "The moment I learned you were being abused, I raced around all night digging for evidence. Didn't you see me avenge you? I've done so much—what more do you want?"
She scoffed, "Avenge me? Are you helping me, or just trying to ease your guilty conscience?"
Julian's eyes blazed. "You're an ungrateful wretch! If that's what you think of me, then walk home by yourself!"
With that, he shoved her aside, climbed back into the car, and sped off.
Elena stared after the retreating tail-lights, a string of hollow, desolate laughter slipping from her lips.
Moments ago that same brother had denounced domestic violence and boasted of spoiling her; now he had abandoned her on the roadside.
What bitter irony.
She set off for home on foot; every step jabbed like a knife, yet her face remained as expressionless as a corpse.
A black Rolls-Royce Phantom rolled to a stop beside her.
The window glided down, revealing Victor Whitmore's deep-set eyes. "Get in," he said.
Elena glanced at him, then looked away. "Thanks, but no. Save your car for Annabelle, President Whitmore."
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