Chapter 53

A flash of jealousy flickered in the girl’s eyes as she sneered, “We’re having our own conversation. What’s it to you? The way you’re talking-don’t tell me you actually want to marry that old, ugly man?”
Her mother, Mrs. Lancaster, squinted at Anastasia, searching her memory for a match but coming up empty. She figured this must be some nobody, a girl with no family background who’d somehow wormed her way in-probably just some man’s dubious date.
With a smirk, Mrs. Lancaster piled on, “Exactly. Someone like Mr. Lancaster-no respectable woman would ever want to marry him. But aren’t there always those gold-diggers, so obsessed with money and power they’d do anything for it? Some women will degrade themselves for a dollar.”
Anastasia let out a cold laugh. “You’re all so sure of yourselves. Sounds like you’ve actually met Mr. Lancaster?”
“We haven’t met him, but who hasn’t heard the stories? Everyone says the same thing—don’t tell me they’re all wrong,” Mrs. Lancaster shot back.
The others joined in, nodding and sneering. This update ıs available on.net
“That’s just the way he is. It’s not even a secret-everyone knows.”
“He’s ancient, crippled, and keeps marrying one woman after another. Probably just some perverted old lech
“Ugh!”
Suddenly, chaos erupted—a shriek pierced the room as Anastasia, furious, grabbed her wine glass and flung it straight at them.
In an instant, the commotion drew everyone’s attention. Heads turned from all sides of the hall, eyes locked on the spectacle.
“You’ve all got plenty to say, but I thought you’d at least met the man! Gossiping hens, aren’t you? You flap your mouths about everything—if you’re so brave, go say all that to Mr. Lancaster’s face!”
Anastasia’s words cut sharp as glass. Her pretty face was dark with anger, her posture daring anyone to say another word-she looked ready to slap anyone who tried.
Talk trash about her husband? She wouldn’t let it slide.
“You-where did this crazy woman come from?”
“Someone call security! Get her out of here!”
Fast as ever, Anastasia had drenched not just one but half a dozen of them, leaving them spluttering, faces red with rage, clothes soaked.
“What’s going on here?!”
Elder Mrs. Lancaster-the matriarch celebrating her sixtieth birthday-swept in, surrounded by guests and family.
“Grandma! There’s a lunatic here!” wailed Ms. Lancaster, dashing to her side.
Elder Mrs. Lancaster, a lifelong mistress who prided herself on her looks, still had jet-black hair at sixty and carried herself with the haughty air of old money. She gave Anastasia a withering once-over. “And you are?”
With a pointed clunk, Anastasia set her empty glass down, then calmly reached for a napkin and dabbed her hands dry.
Aaron was a piece of trash, so what could you expect from his grandmother? Just looking at these Lancasters made her want to wash her eyes out.
Anastasia’s blatant disregard infuriated Elder Mrs. Lancaster.
Just then, Penelope-who’d trailed after the old woman-gasped in shock.
“Anastasia! What are you doing here?”
Elder Mrs. Lancaster turned. “You know her?”
Penelope glanced at Anastasia, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “She’s my sister, Lady. I’m sorry-she doesn’t always know how to behave
Anastasia’s eyes cooled at her sister’s presumptuous apology, her expression icy. “Anastasia?” Elder Mrs. Lancaster suddenly remembered. Her lips curled in contempt. “So it’s you. No wonder raised without a mother, no manners at all! I heard you got married. Was it really to that old, crippled freak?”