Your Regrets Won't Bring Me Back - Chapter 72: Chapter 72
You are reading Your Regrets Won't Bring Me Back, Chapter 72: Chapter 72. Read more chapters of Your Regrets Won't Bring Me Back.
Right in front of everyone, Annie spewed shameless pleas without the slightest restraint.
Lawrence squeezed his eyes shut, fists trembling, wishing the floor would swallow him.
Victor shoved Annie back, clamping her wrists to keep her still. "What happened?" he demanded, baffled.
Julian grabbed Victor's collar. "That's my question! Annie is your fiancée—she's obviously been drugged! Why didn't you protect her?"
"Enough!" Sir Whitmore thundered, unable to watch any longer.
"She's an adult and must answer for her own actions. How is this Victor's fault?"
"And you"—his glare swung to Julian—"the minute you learned your sister was drugged you took it out on others. Had it been Ellie, you'd have beaten her to death. Ask yourself: have you ever treated Ellie like a real sister?"
Julian fell silent, stung speechless by the old man's words.
Adaline wept as though her insides were tearing apart. She couldn't fathom how the drug meant for Elena had struck her own daughter.
Had she known, she would never have set a trap that crashed onto her own feet; regret gnawed her bones.
"My poor Annie—what will become of her now?" she sobbed.
Sir Whitmore cast a frosty glance at the weeping woman, then at Annie—still begging without shame—and felt only disgust.
He frowned. "Stop gawking and get her to the hospital. Or do you want the whole world to witness this humiliation?"
Victor pressed his lips together, scooped Annie into his arms, and said, "I'll take her to the hospital first."
Sir Whitmore ordered the unconscious man dumped outside before leaving himself.
Adaline collapsed, dazed. "My daughter... what is she going to do?"
Lawrence gritted his teeth. "Enough tears! You were with Annie the whole time—how did this happen? Why was she in Elena's room? Who was that man?"
Adaline clawed at her hair, breaking down. "Don't ask—just don't ask!"
Julian studied her. "Mom, you know something, don't you? What really happened?"
"Speak! Our guests are laughing themselves sick at our daughter, and you still say nothing?"
Snapping back to herself, Adaline shook her head in panic. "I don't know—I truly don't. Why would I hurt Annie? I clearly saw Elena drink that wine... how could...?"
"How could Annabelle be the one drugged?" A voice as cold as frost sliced through the air.
Adaline spun around, stunned. "Elena, you—"
"Surprised I'm standing here safe and sound?" Elena asked quietly.
Panic flashed in Adaline's eyes; she clapped a hand over her mouth.
Elena's gaze was icy. "I always thought Annie had slipped something into my drink, but I never imagined you did it yourself. Do you know how hard it is for me to believe that?"
Adaline steadied her breathing. "So—you knew all along?"
Elena ignored the question. "Why? I never stole anything from her. Why do you still treat me this way?"
Adaline lowered her eyes, inhaled deeply, and murmured, "Elena, you didn't take anything, but Sir Whitmore favors you. Without lifting a finger, you've already beaten Annie."
Lawrence squeezed his eyes shut, fists trembling, wishing the floor would swallow him.
Victor shoved Annie back, clamping her wrists to keep her still. "What happened?" he demanded, baffled.
Julian grabbed Victor's collar. "That's my question! Annie is your fiancée—she's obviously been drugged! Why didn't you protect her?"
"Enough!" Sir Whitmore thundered, unable to watch any longer.
"She's an adult and must answer for her own actions. How is this Victor's fault?"
"And you"—his glare swung to Julian—"the minute you learned your sister was drugged you took it out on others. Had it been Ellie, you'd have beaten her to death. Ask yourself: have you ever treated Ellie like a real sister?"
Julian fell silent, stung speechless by the old man's words.
Adaline wept as though her insides were tearing apart. She couldn't fathom how the drug meant for Elena had struck her own daughter.
Had she known, she would never have set a trap that crashed onto her own feet; regret gnawed her bones.
"My poor Annie—what will become of her now?" she sobbed.
Sir Whitmore cast a frosty glance at the weeping woman, then at Annie—still begging without shame—and felt only disgust.
He frowned. "Stop gawking and get her to the hospital. Or do you want the whole world to witness this humiliation?"
Victor pressed his lips together, scooped Annie into his arms, and said, "I'll take her to the hospital first."
Sir Whitmore ordered the unconscious man dumped outside before leaving himself.
Adaline collapsed, dazed. "My daughter... what is she going to do?"
Lawrence gritted his teeth. "Enough tears! You were with Annie the whole time—how did this happen? Why was she in Elena's room? Who was that man?"
Adaline clawed at her hair, breaking down. "Don't ask—just don't ask!"
Julian studied her. "Mom, you know something, don't you? What really happened?"
"Speak! Our guests are laughing themselves sick at our daughter, and you still say nothing?"
Snapping back to herself, Adaline shook her head in panic. "I don't know—I truly don't. Why would I hurt Annie? I clearly saw Elena drink that wine... how could...?"
"How could Annabelle be the one drugged?" A voice as cold as frost sliced through the air.
Adaline spun around, stunned. "Elena, you—"
"Surprised I'm standing here safe and sound?" Elena asked quietly.
Panic flashed in Adaline's eyes; she clapped a hand over her mouth.
Elena's gaze was icy. "I always thought Annie had slipped something into my drink, but I never imagined you did it yourself. Do you know how hard it is for me to believe that?"
Adaline steadied her breathing. "So—you knew all along?"
Elena ignored the question. "Why? I never stole anything from her. Why do you still treat me this way?"
Adaline lowered her eyes, inhaled deeply, and murmured, "Elena, you didn't take anything, but Sir Whitmore favors you. Without lifting a finger, you've already beaten Annie."
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