Chapter 49
49:
Samuel regarded Christina with a gleam of admiration in his eyes, the corners of his mouth lifting into a rare, gentle smile. In that moment, he couldn’t help but think—the Scott bloodline outshined the Grahams by miles. Such clarity. Such instinct.
The contrast between Ralphy and Dylan made Samuel’s blood boil. The comparison wasn’t even close. With a grunt of frustration, he shoved the phone back into Ralphy’s hand. Ralphy’s career was already inferior to Dylan’s, and now, Dylan showcased better taste in choosing partners. “You useless rascal!” Samuel thundered at Ralphy, pacing with agitation.
“Grandpa, please!” Ralphy said quickly, trying to pacify him. “Let’s not lose sight of the goal—the secret trick. That’s what matters.”
But Samuel wasn’t listening. His expression hardened as he turned on his heel and strode away, seething.
Then, from the phone’s speaker, Morse’s laughter echoed mockingly. “How dare you laugh at a time like this!” Ralphy snapped, his eyes flashing with irritation.
“Your grandfather’s something else,” Morse said, amusement lacing every word.
Ralphy frowned. He still didn’t get it that Christina wasn’t just a name in passing—she was the axis on which everything turned. But to him, the conversation between his grandpa and Morse was a cipher, each word more perplexing than the last.
“I’m ending the call,” Morse said, smirking faintly. “I have to take Miss Jones home.”
Ralphy blurted out, “Wait—what about the secret trick? At least give me a hint!”
“Miss Jones needs to be taken home,” Morse said coolly. “We’ll talk later.”
And with that, the screen went dark.
Ralphy stared at the phone for a beat, stunned. Then, slowly, realization dawned—and hit him like a lightning bolt. Christina wasn’t just important—she was the key.
His expression shifted from bafflement to glee. From this moment forward, he vowed to treat Christina like royalty—ride her coattails, sing her praises, and sponge off Dylan’s hospitality.
𝖋𝖎𝖗𝖘𝖙 𝖘𝖊𝖊𝖓 𝖎𝖓 𝖘𝖎𝖙𝖊: ⳑ𝗮𝗅𝗇𝗈ν𝖊𝗅𝘀⧼ⅽ𝗈𝗺
With a self-satisfied smirk, Ralphy whispered to himself, “Miss Jones, looks like I’ll be relying on you from now on.”
The next morning, Christina shuffled out of bed, bleary-eyed and sluggish. Still half-asleep, she fumbled through her morning routine, brushing her teeth with her eyes closed, swaying slightly like a drunk sailor adrift.
The hangover hadn’t worn off yet. Davina had shown up last night with a bottle of something strong, and the two of them had gone a few rounds deeper than planned.
Even now, Christina felt like her head was wrapped in cotton.
Suddenly, there was a ruckus outside.
Her senses sharpened in an instant. Could it be Davina coming over again? Clutching her toothbrush, still clad in her cozy bear-print pajamas, she padded toward the front door.
“Oh! This one’s just perfect! A full sea-view estate! Absolutely ideal for this season—so cozy and tranquil!”
Christina froze mid-step. That voice. Definitely not Davina. Her brow furrowed sharply. She knew that chirpy, fake-sweet tone anywhere—Joselyn. What the hell was Joselyn doing here? And Joselyn wasn’t alone. Judging by the background chatter, she had company. Was Joselyn talking about renting this place?
Christina’s eyes narrowed. This estate was part of the divorce settlement with Brendon!
“Oh, any place will do, as long as Brendon and Yolanda are happy,” said Sheila Mitchell, Yolanda’s mother, her tone warm and polite.
“I promise you, once Yolanda marries into our family, we’ll treat her just like our own daughter. No different at all,” Joselyn remarked, puffing up proudly.
“With your assurance, we can finally breathe easy,” said Finnegan Mitchell, Yolanda’s father, his tone satisfied. “Now that my father’s on board, Yolanda and Brendon can finally be together. It’s a happy ending.”
Sheila hesitated, her brow creasing slightly. “But… are Brendon and that woman truly over? There’s been no public word about their divorce. I’m still uneasy.”
“Mrs. Mitchell, there’s no need to worry,” Katie interjected smoothly. “The divorce papers are signed and sealed. I’ve seen them with my own eyes.”
Sheila exhaled, visibly relieved. “Thank goodness. I’ve heard rumors about that woman’s private affairs… Not exactly the sort of thing one wants linked to the family.”
Finnegan’s face darkened. “A woman like that—fickle and disloyal—will never be allowed near the Mitchell name. She’s such a stain.”
Katie scoffed, her nose wrinkling with disgust. “It’s all my grandmother’s fault. She went soft and let Christina into our family. Christina brought us nothing but embarrassment! Thank God Brendon came to his senses and divorced her. She’s revolting.”
“Katie, maybe Christina had her reasons,” Yolanda said gently, feigning sympathy while expertly twisting the blade. “We don’t know the whole story.”
Joselyn patted Yolanda’s hand. “You’re too kind for your own good, dear. A woman like Christina doesn’t deserve your compassion. Kindness like yours can be a liability if someone like her decides to take advantage.”
In Joselyn’s eyes, Yolanda was the perfect match for her son—elegant, well-bred, poised. Everything Christina was not. Brendon deserved someone like Yolanda.
“She’s the reason I don’t have a grandchild yet,” Joselyn added bitterly. “She latched onto Brendon like a leech for years and still couldn’t bear him a child.”
“I see you’re having a good time spewing shit out of that vile mouth of yours!” Christina’s voice cut through the room like a blade. All heads turned in shock.
Then, Christina looked Joselyn dead in the eye. “No matter how capable a woman is, there’s only so much she can do if the real problem lies with her husband in terms of having babies.”
A smirk danced on Christina’s lips as her eyes flicked—mockingly—from Joselyn to Katie.
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