Your Regrets Won't Bring Me Back - Chapter 66: Chapter 66
You are reading Your Regrets Won't Bring Me Back, Chapter 66: Chapter 66. Read more chapters of Your Regrets Won't Bring Me Back.
"Is that so? Then what about my allergic reaction last night—were you aware of that, Mother?" Elena asked.
Adaline's brow knitted. "Aware of what? What are you talking about?"
Elena laid the matter bare. "She sprinkled seafood powder on my cake—and you were there. I'd love to know which role you played. The strategist who dreamed it up, or the accomplice who covered for her?"
Annabelle's fists clenched so hard her knuckles whitened. How could Elena have found out?
Adaline's eyes flew wide. "Impossible! Your sister is far too innocent—she would never deliberately trigger your allergy!"
Adaline insisted, "Your sister is innocent; she could never have triggered your allergy on purpose!"
Elena thought, 'Innocent? Of course— to the entire Bennett family, Annabelle is the harmless, sweet-natured girl, while I'm the vicious one.
'Say a word against her and they assume I'm framing my oh-so-pure sister.' A bitter, desolate smile crept across her lips.
Elena continued, 'Right. In the Bennett household, Annabelle is forever the harmless good girl, and I'm the malicious one. Anything I say will only look like I'm trying to frame that oh-so-innocent sister.'
A chill slid through Elena's chest; she laughed to herself, the sound unmistakably bleak.
"And the gift I brought—deliberately smashed. Do you still insist the janitor did it?" Elena pressed.
Adaline frowned, steering the conversation away. "That matter is finished. The truth hardly matters anymore."
"It matters to me. You know the cleaner was a scapegoat. So in your eyes the package was ruined by my own hand, isn't that right?" Elena said.
"Are you suggesting Annabelle did it again?" Adaline demanded.
"Who else?" Elena shot back.
Adaline let out a laugh of disbelief. "Ridiculous! With Annie's innocent temperament, how could she do such a thing?
"Elena, the whole incident is behind us—must you keep throwing mud at your own sister? She's your sister! Why are you always at odds with her?"
Adaline snapped, "She's your sister! Why must you always be at odds with her?"
Elena chuckled. "I should have known."
"Known what?" Adaline asked.
Elena had always known her mother would protect Annabelle; saying more was pointless.
Annabelle hurriedly knocked Elena's phone to the floor. "Oops—sorry, Elena. I didn't mean it. You've really misunderstood me—I would never hurt you."
Elena cast her a frosty glance and bent to retrieve the phone.
In that split second Annabelle nudged Adaline's arm; Adaline, flustered, flicked a small pill into the champagne flute.
The tablet dissolved instantly while Elena straightened with her phone in hand.
Adaline swallowed hard and lowered her lashes, masking her panic.
Annabelle remained the picture of fragile calm. "Elena, I know you resent me for taking everything that used to be yours. Since you won't help, I won't force you. Mom, let's go."
Adaline nodded. "All right." She turned to Elena. "Everything I do is for you and Annie. Please stop imagining that your sister is malicious."
Elena's inner laugh was icily relentless—everything for her and Annabelle's good?
Yes, for Annabelle's good—always at the cost of hurting her.
Adaline gave her a long, unreadable look, then walked away.
Elena stared blankly at the champagne glass on the table.
The room was well heated, yet a chill gnawed at every bone.
Her battered body had long since grown used to cold—and to pain.
She lifted the glass and took a sip.
A large hand swept in and wrenched the flute from her grasp.
Adaline's brow knitted. "Aware of what? What are you talking about?"
Elena laid the matter bare. "She sprinkled seafood powder on my cake—and you were there. I'd love to know which role you played. The strategist who dreamed it up, or the accomplice who covered for her?"
Annabelle's fists clenched so hard her knuckles whitened. How could Elena have found out?
Adaline's eyes flew wide. "Impossible! Your sister is far too innocent—she would never deliberately trigger your allergy!"
Adaline insisted, "Your sister is innocent; she could never have triggered your allergy on purpose!"
Elena thought, 'Innocent? Of course— to the entire Bennett family, Annabelle is the harmless, sweet-natured girl, while I'm the vicious one.
'Say a word against her and they assume I'm framing my oh-so-pure sister.' A bitter, desolate smile crept across her lips.
Elena continued, 'Right. In the Bennett household, Annabelle is forever the harmless good girl, and I'm the malicious one. Anything I say will only look like I'm trying to frame that oh-so-innocent sister.'
A chill slid through Elena's chest; she laughed to herself, the sound unmistakably bleak.
"And the gift I brought—deliberately smashed. Do you still insist the janitor did it?" Elena pressed.
Adaline frowned, steering the conversation away. "That matter is finished. The truth hardly matters anymore."
"It matters to me. You know the cleaner was a scapegoat. So in your eyes the package was ruined by my own hand, isn't that right?" Elena said.
"Are you suggesting Annabelle did it again?" Adaline demanded.
"Who else?" Elena shot back.
Adaline let out a laugh of disbelief. "Ridiculous! With Annie's innocent temperament, how could she do such a thing?
"Elena, the whole incident is behind us—must you keep throwing mud at your own sister? She's your sister! Why are you always at odds with her?"
Adaline snapped, "She's your sister! Why must you always be at odds with her?"
Elena chuckled. "I should have known."
"Known what?" Adaline asked.
Elena had always known her mother would protect Annabelle; saying more was pointless.
Annabelle hurriedly knocked Elena's phone to the floor. "Oops—sorry, Elena. I didn't mean it. You've really misunderstood me—I would never hurt you."
Elena cast her a frosty glance and bent to retrieve the phone.
In that split second Annabelle nudged Adaline's arm; Adaline, flustered, flicked a small pill into the champagne flute.
The tablet dissolved instantly while Elena straightened with her phone in hand.
Adaline swallowed hard and lowered her lashes, masking her panic.
Annabelle remained the picture of fragile calm. "Elena, I know you resent me for taking everything that used to be yours. Since you won't help, I won't force you. Mom, let's go."
Adaline nodded. "All right." She turned to Elena. "Everything I do is for you and Annie. Please stop imagining that your sister is malicious."
Elena's inner laugh was icily relentless—everything for her and Annabelle's good?
Yes, for Annabelle's good—always at the cost of hurting her.
Adaline gave her a long, unreadable look, then walked away.
Elena stared blankly at the champagne glass on the table.
The room was well heated, yet a chill gnawed at every bone.
Her battered body had long since grown used to cold—and to pain.
She lifted the glass and took a sip.
A large hand swept in and wrenched the flute from her grasp.
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