Your Regrets Won't Bring Me Back - Chapter 76: Chapter 76
You are reading Your Regrets Won't Bring Me Back, Chapter 76: Chapter 76. Read more chapters of Your Regrets Won't Bring Me Back.
"Where am I? Mom—what happened to me? Did I... did I..." Annabelle wrapped her arms around herself, terror in her voice.
Her memory was fragmented. She recalled being drugged, then a crowd flooding into the room—Sir Whitmore among them—and the shameful things she'd done.
Adaline gathered her daughter into her arms. "Annie, it's alright. Nothing happened at all."
Annabelle bit down hard on her lower lip. When she finally looked up, her gaze collided with Victor Whitmore's.
His face was so dark and forbidding it was almost frightening.
Her heart plummeted; timidly she reached for his hand and pleaded, "Victor, listen to me. I was framed—someone drugged me! You have to help me find out who slipped me that stuff."
"And it had to be Elena! She's jealous that we're engaged, so she's the one who poisoned my drink."
Victor's eyes narrowed, his voice glacial. "Even now you're still trying to pin the blame on someone else?"
Annabelle's heart lurched; she shot a furtive glance at Adaline.
Adaline closed her eyes and gave a tiny nod, confirming that Victor already knew everything.
"If you hadn't schemed against her in the first place, would you have been drugged yourself? That's called karma."
"Victor, everything I did was for you. Your grandpa has always been biased against me. I just wanted him to accept me so we could get married sooner."
Victor's lips curved into a wintry smile. "And how does it feel to smash your own foot with the stone you raised?"
"I—I know I was wrong, Victor, but do I really deserve such severe punishment? Is Elena automatically right about everything?"
"She must have seen through my plan long ago. When I let my guard down she switched the wine and made me drink it. Isn't that vicious too?"
"How are you so sure it was her?" Victor countered.
Annabelle fell silent.
Victor gave her a final glance and said in a low voice, "Get some rest."
He turned to leave. Annabelle grabbed his sleeve in panic. "Victor! Do you... do you still want me?"
Without looking back or answering, he shook off her hand and strode away without hesitation.
Annabelle clutched the quilt to her chest and broke down, sobbing uncontrollably.
Adaline patted her daughter's back, murmuring, "It's all right, Annie. The story won't get out—your brother has already shut down every source."
Annabelle bit her lip. "But... Grandpa is going to hate me even more now! Is there no hope for Victor and me?"
"Your father and I will think of something."
The next day.
Sir Whitmore personally came to invite Elena Bennett to breakfast.
"Ellie, how did you sleep last night?" he asked kindly.
"I'm fine, thank you, Grandpa Whitmore." Simon Whitmore's medicine had worked wonders; the swelling was almost gone after just one night.
Sir Whitmore's eyes crinkled with warmth. "Good, good. Come, join me downstairs for breakfast."
"All right."
The rest of the Bennett family emerged from their rooms as well, but Sir Whitmore didn't spare them so much as a glance, nor did he invite them to eat. Instead, he tucked Elena's arm through his and escorted her downstairs.
Exchanging awkward looks, the others had no choice but to follow with thick skins.
At the table waited the Whitmore family—Victor, his parents, and Simon were already seated.
Simon lounged lazily, fiddling with his phone.
Sir Whitmore pulled out the chair beside him. "Ellie, sit here."
"Thank you."
Simon was on her other side, and Elena couldn't help but move with a certain self-conscious stiffness.
Her memory was fragmented. She recalled being drugged, then a crowd flooding into the room—Sir Whitmore among them—and the shameful things she'd done.
Adaline gathered her daughter into her arms. "Annie, it's alright. Nothing happened at all."
Annabelle bit down hard on her lower lip. When she finally looked up, her gaze collided with Victor Whitmore's.
His face was so dark and forbidding it was almost frightening.
Her heart plummeted; timidly she reached for his hand and pleaded, "Victor, listen to me. I was framed—someone drugged me! You have to help me find out who slipped me that stuff."
"And it had to be Elena! She's jealous that we're engaged, so she's the one who poisoned my drink."
Victor's eyes narrowed, his voice glacial. "Even now you're still trying to pin the blame on someone else?"
Annabelle's heart lurched; she shot a furtive glance at Adaline.
Adaline closed her eyes and gave a tiny nod, confirming that Victor already knew everything.
"If you hadn't schemed against her in the first place, would you have been drugged yourself? That's called karma."
"Victor, everything I did was for you. Your grandpa has always been biased against me. I just wanted him to accept me so we could get married sooner."
Victor's lips curved into a wintry smile. "And how does it feel to smash your own foot with the stone you raised?"
"I—I know I was wrong, Victor, but do I really deserve such severe punishment? Is Elena automatically right about everything?"
"She must have seen through my plan long ago. When I let my guard down she switched the wine and made me drink it. Isn't that vicious too?"
"How are you so sure it was her?" Victor countered.
Annabelle fell silent.
Victor gave her a final glance and said in a low voice, "Get some rest."
He turned to leave. Annabelle grabbed his sleeve in panic. "Victor! Do you... do you still want me?"
Without looking back or answering, he shook off her hand and strode away without hesitation.
Annabelle clutched the quilt to her chest and broke down, sobbing uncontrollably.
Adaline patted her daughter's back, murmuring, "It's all right, Annie. The story won't get out—your brother has already shut down every source."
Annabelle bit her lip. "But... Grandpa is going to hate me even more now! Is there no hope for Victor and me?"
"Your father and I will think of something."
The next day.
Sir Whitmore personally came to invite Elena Bennett to breakfast.
"Ellie, how did you sleep last night?" he asked kindly.
"I'm fine, thank you, Grandpa Whitmore." Simon Whitmore's medicine had worked wonders; the swelling was almost gone after just one night.
Sir Whitmore's eyes crinkled with warmth. "Good, good. Come, join me downstairs for breakfast."
"All right."
The rest of the Bennett family emerged from their rooms as well, but Sir Whitmore didn't spare them so much as a glance, nor did he invite them to eat. Instead, he tucked Elena's arm through his and escorted her downstairs.
Exchanging awkward looks, the others had no choice but to follow with thick skins.
At the table waited the Whitmore family—Victor, his parents, and Simon were already seated.
Simon lounged lazily, fiddling with his phone.
Sir Whitmore pulled out the chair beside him. "Ellie, sit here."
"Thank you."
Simon was on her other side, and Elena couldn't help but move with a certain self-conscious stiffness.
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