Chapter 47

Althea was the first to cry foul, her face twisted in anguish as she jabbed a
trembling finger at Lindsay. “You’re only accusing me because my husband and son aren’t here to defend me! Clearly, you set this all up, and now you’re trying to pin everything on me. No wonder you insisted on marrying a man in a coma at that family dinner-you must have known Yves would wake up! You switched out the incense I gave the house staff, didn’t you?”
Lindsay just shook her head and let out a cold, scornful laugh. “You can deny it all you want, but that won’t erase what you did to Yves. I wouldn’t be confronting you today if I weren’t absolutely certain. The incense was custom-ordered by you from Aroma Lofts. I have the surveillance footage from the day you went there- everything you said to the owner was recorded.”
She leaned in, her voice low and menacing. “Do you really want me to destroy the last shred of dignity you have left?” Thɪs chapter is updated by
All the color drained from Althea’s face in an instant. She stood there ashen and hollow-eyed, terror chilling her to the bone. Her mind screamed at her to run, but her legs felt like they were made of lead, utterly useless beneath her.
“Althea,” came the sharp voice of Mr. Quigley Sr., his cold gaze cutting right through her. “Since you married into the Quigley family, I’ve treated you well, haven’t I? Why would you do this to Yves?”
Althea seemed to snap back to reality, staring at the old man with mechanical detachment. After a long, tense pause, a bitter laugh escaped her. “You have the nerve to ask me that?”
“Oh, please. You call that treating me well? That’s rich.”
“My husband, York, is your eldest son. He joined Quigley Holdings at twenty-five -maybe he didn’t achieve much, but he’s worked himself to the bone for this family. And how did you and Mother treat him? When she died, every single share she owned was transferred to Yves. Meanwhile, my husband spent decades breaking his back, and only made it to manager in his fifties.”
“But Yves? He joined the company at twenty, and by twenty-two, he was running the place. Tell me, when was it ever his turn? How am I supposed to just accept that?”
Bertha and Helen exchanged a knowing glance, each silently acknowledging the resentment they shared with Althea. But neither of them had dared lift a finger against Yves; they were all too aware of the old man’s favoritism. Now, with Althea airing their grievances in front of everyone, it was clear she was signing her own death warrant.
“So that’s your excuse for trying to kill Yves?” Mr. Quigley’s voice trembled with rage, his chest heaving, his eyes rimmed red as he glared at her.
“That’s right! Only if he’s gone will what rightfully belongs to my husband and son finally return to them,” Althea spat, no longer holding anything back.
“Mr. Quigley, do you really think I’m the only one who resents you? Ask your other daughters-in-law if they’re content. The only reason they keep quiet is because they’re afraid of you. Do you honestly think they don’t wish Yves dead too?”
Bertha and Helen were quick to jump in, scrambling to distance themselves from Althea’s confession.
“Mr. Quigley, don’t listen to her nonsense,” Bertha said swiftly. “We’re nothing like her. Yves is family; of course we want him safe and well.”
Helen nodded eagerly. “Bertha speaks for me too. Some people, even as they’re going down, just want to drag others down with them. But you’re far too wise to fall for that, Mr. Quigley.”
Listening to their desperate denials, Althea burst out laughing, wild and unhinged. “Cowards, the both of you! Have you forgotten all those times you gossiped about Yves behind his back with me? I guess I wasn’t as clever as you didn’t bother to record our conversations or take videos for insurance.”