Chapter 336: A Trouble of Merry
Summer had actually investigated Sienna’s whereabouts after the incident. From what I gathered, Sienna had taken Helen Lawson’s money and fled the country.
Merry continued, “My classmate is neighbors with her family. She told me she’s been hearing noises next door lately. If Sienna really came back, she’d definitely come after you, Summer. Be careful.”
A voice called for Merry in the distance.
“I have to go,” Merry said.
Summer’s expression darkened. Logically, if Sienna had fled abroad, she shouldn’t dare return—unless she had nowhere else to go.
Her hand instinctively rested on her stomach. I couldn’t afford to take risks anymore. Not with my child’s safety at stake.
As Summer stepped out of the restroom, the sound of commotion from the back hall caught her attention. The banquet was divided into three sections—the main hall, the front hall, and the back hall. The back hall was closer to the women’s restroom and mostly occupied by socialites. Summer had no intention of getting involved and was about to return to Fraser when she heard, “I’m sorry, Ms. Morgan! I… I didn’t mean to!”
A familiar voice. Crying.
Summer turned. Merry’s face was flushed with humiliation as she stammered apologies. Morgan stood before her, her blue gown stained with a splash of wine. Her expression was venomous.
“Didn’t mean to?” Morgan sneered. “You ruined my dress, and you think a half-assed apology is enough? What kind of servant are you?”
Before Merry could react, Morgan’s seven-inch stiletto lashed out.
Gasping, Merry clutched her abdomen, her uniform now smeared with a crimson footprint.
“I… I was walking straight, and you suddenly stepped in front of me!”
Sasha smirked. “The master is never wrong, sweetheart. Morgan, your staff needs training.”
Merry bit her lip. I wasn’t some plaything for these rich girls.
“Then let me clean it for you.”
Liliah scoffed. “Clean? Do you know this kind of gown won’t be worn twice? Besides, this is a 167-thousand-dollar gown. It’s ruined. You couldn’t pay it off even if you sold yourself.”
Morgan strode forward, picking up a cocktail from a nearby table. Her voice dripped with malice. “Honestly, what kind of trash does our housekeeper hire these days?” Then, she lifted the glass, tilting it over Merry’s head. “Let me teach you a lesson.”
Suddenly, a hand slammed into Morgan’s wrist, crushing her grip. Morgan looked up. Summer stood before her, eyes like ice. With a sharp twist, Summer wrenched Morgan’s arm back. The cocktail flew backward, drenching Morgan’s dress in sticky yellow liquid. Morgan staggered, livid.
“How dare you interfere?! I’m disciplining my servant!”
Summer helped Merry up, her voice calm. “I’ll pay for the dress.”
Morgan let out a shrill laugh. “With what? The money you screwed out of Mr. Graham? I’d rather burn cash than touch a gold-digger’s dirty money!”
The words were a bomb in the silent hall. The surrounding socialites gasped, whispers erupting like wildfire.
“She’s right…”
“Who does she think she is?”
The woman in the purple dress from earlier quietly retreated, rushing to find help. Unlike the others, I wasn’t foolish enough to provoke Mr. Graham’s fiancée.
On the one hand, they felt that Summer was unworthy of the Bossman and gossiped and denigrated her behind her back. However, in person, they still flattered and praised Summer.
Morgan, emboldened by the crowd’s support, smirked. “A shameless whore like you only knows how to spread their legs. That baby in your belly? With a mother like you, it’s better off not being born—”
Thwack! The sound echoed through the hall. Summer’s palm blazed across Morgan’s cheek—a slap so hard it snapped the heiress’s head to the side. Coldness flashed under Summer’s eyes as she reached out and threw a hard slap, using all her strength. I wouldn’t tolerate anyone talking about my baby!
Morgan stumbled, her face flaming red. “You—you bitch! You hit me?!”
Summer’s eyes were arctic. Thwack! A second slap. Morgan’s mouth hung open, stunned. Summer leaned in, her voice a blade. “You’re so uneducated to take the lead in denigrating a guest on the main stage of your own party: I’ll teach you a lesson on your grandfather’s behalf and save you the embarrassment!”