While My Husband Cheated, I Married His Powerful Brother

The room was still reeling.

David Cole. Eleanor’s personal bodyguard.

Phillip’s face went red. Then white. Then red again. He turned to Eleanor. His mouth opened, closed and opened once again.

"That’s not possible," he said. His voice was hoarse. "David has been with us for ten years. He’s loyal. He would never—"

Dorian did not look away from Eleanor. "The phone number was registered under his name. The messages came from his device. There’s no mistake."

Eleanor shot to her feet. Her chair scraped against the floor. Her face was flushed. Her eyes were wild.

"You’re lying!" she screamed. "You’re making this up! You’ve always hated me! You’ve always wanted to destroy me!"

Dorian said nothing. He just stood there, his gray eyes fixed on her, calm and unmoving.

Eleanor’s chest heaved. Her hands were shaking. But her voice was loud. Defiant.

"You have no proof! A phone number means nothing! Anyone could have used his phone! Anyone could have—"

"Sit down, Eleanor."

The Old Madam’s voice cut through the room like a blade.

Eleanor’s mouth snapped shut. She looked at the Old Madam. At the cold fury in her eyes.

She sat.

But Veyra saw it. The way her hands were trembling. The way her breath came in short, shallow gasps.

Eleanor was panicking. The mask had shattered.

Veyra felt a quiet satisfaction settle in her chest.

Dorian spoke again. "I propose we summon David Cole. For a face-to-face confrontation. Let him explain how his phone number was used to send those messages."

Eleanor’s face went gray. The color drained from her cheeks. Her lips turned pale.

She slumped against the back of the sofa. Her body seemed to collapse inward. Her eyes were wide. Unfocused.

Phillip grabbed her arm. "Eleanor? Eleanor, what’s going on? Why do you look like that?"

She did not answer. Her mouth moved, but no sound came out.

Beatrice stepped forward. Her eyes were narrowed. Her voice was sharp.

"Eleanor," Beatrice said slowly. "Was it you? Did you order the kidnapping of Lily?"

Eleanor’s head snapped toward her. "No! I mean—I only wanted to scare Veyra. That’s all. Just scare her. Make her look bad. I never meant for anyone to get hurt. I never told them to lock Lily in a cage. I never—"

Beatrice’s hand flew across Eleanor’s face.

The slap was loud and so very brutal. Eleanor’s head snapped to the side. Her hand quickly went to her cheek.

"How dare you," Beatrice said. Her voice was shaking. "How dare you do that to my granddaughter. To a child. To an innocent child."

"I didn’t—"

"You put her in a cage!" Beatrice’s voice rose. "You locked her in a cage like an animal!"

Eleanor scrambled to her feet. She tried to back away. Beatrice grabbed her shoulders and shoved her back down onto the sofa.

"Don’t you dare get up," Beatrice said. "Don’t you dare say another word."

Eleanor struggled to rise again. Her legs were shaking. Her face was wet with tears.

"Please," she said. "Please, let me explain. I didn’t know they would hurt her. I just wanted to scare Veyra. I wanted to make her look irresponsible. I never meant for Lily to be locked in a cage. I never—"

Harold’s face was purple with rage.

He lunged forward. His hand shot out. He grabbed the ashtray from the side table.

"I’ll kill you," he growled. "I’ll kill you for what you did to that child."

Beatrice caught his arm. "Harold, stop!"

"Let go of me!"

"You’ll only make it worse!"

Harold struggled against her grip. The ashtray fell from his hand. It hit the floor with a loud crack.

Eleanor shrieked. She scrambled behind Phillip, using him as a shield.

Phillip stood frozen. His face was pale. His hands were limp at his sides. He looked like a man who had just realized he had been living with a stranger for thirty years.

Veyra watched the chaos from her corner.

The shouting. The crying. The accusations.

She should have felt sorry for Eleanor. She should have felt some pity.

But she did not.

Eleanor had tried to destroy her. Had tried to kill Lily. Had tried to tear apart everything Veyra was building.

Veyra believed in consequences. And Eleanor was finally facing hers.

But then a small doubt crept into her mind.

Had Dorian really verified the phone number? Or was he guessing? Bluffing?

She looked at him. His face was calm. Certain.

She decided to trust him.

The Old Madam slammed her walking stick against the floor.

The sound cracked through the room like thunder.

"Enough!"

Everyone froze.

The Old Madam stood in the center of the room. Her back was straight. Her eyes were blazing. She looked old and frail and absolutely terrifying.

"Sit down," she said. "All of you. Sit down now."

Harold lowered his arm. Beatrice released him. Phillip sank onto the sofa. Eleanor stayed crouched behind him, her face hidden.

They all sat down.

The Old Madam looked at Harold. "You. Speak."

Harold’s voice was rough. "She should be punished. Severely. She kidnapped a child. She locked Lily in a cage. She should be in prison."

Beatrice nodded. "I agree. What she did is unforgivable."

The Old Madam turned to Eleanor. "Do you have anything to say for yourself?"

Eleanor’s legs gave out. She fell to her knees. Her hands clasped together. Her tears fell onto the carpet.

"Please," she said. "Please, I’m sorry. I was wrong. I was jealous. I couldn’t stand that she—that Veyra—was getting all the attention. The praise. Dorian’s favor." She sobbed. "I’ve been in this family for thirty years. Thirty years. And she walks in and everyone acts like she’s some kind of saint."

She crawled toward the Old Madam.

"Please. Forgive me. Just this once. I’ll never do anything like this again. I swear. I swear on my life."

The Old Madam looked down at Eleanor.

Her face was tired, wrinkled and sad.

"Thirty years," the Old Madam said quietly. "Thirty years, and you throw it away for jealousy."

Eleanor sobbed. "I’m sorry. I’m so sorry."

The Old Madam shook her head. She looked at Dorian.

"I am deeply disheartened by this situation," she said. "That someone in this family could do such a thing."

She paused. Her eyes were heavy with disappointment.

"The manner of punishment will be decided by you. You are the head of the Thorne family, Dorian Thorne. I trust your judgment."

She closed her eyes and leaned back in her chair.

The room was silent.

Veyra looked at Dorian. At the weight on his shoulders. The burden of leading this family.

She wondered what he would do.