Chapter 339: Apologize
Fraser’s arm tightened around Summer’s slender waist as he let out a cold laugh. “What? Can’t the Harper family even apologize properly?”
Emelia drew a sharp breath, her voice trembling with barely restrained fury. “Mr. Graham, Morgan is still young. This is her first time apologizing to someone. She’s done her best, and I assure you she’ll be more careful with her words in the future.”
Fraser’s lips curled in disdain. Sympathy didn’t exist in my vocabulary—not when it came to those who dared bully what was mine. “If she’s still young, then teach her properly. Show her what a real apology looks like.”
Emelia froze. Was he…demanding that I, the matriarch of the Harper family, apologize alongside my daughter? In front of everyone? Her face flushed an ugly shade of purple as she whirled toward Martin, eyes pleading for intervention.
Martin frowned. This was going too far. But when he met Fraser’s gaze, any words of mediation died in his throat. The man standing before me wasn’t the boy who’d once called me “Mr. Martin.” This was Fraser Graham, ruthless business titan, the man who could make or break empires with a single word. For the first time, Martin felt his age. The world belonged to those with power, and today, that power rested firmly in Fraser’s hands.
“Emelia,” Martin said heavily, “do as he says.”
Emelia’s breath hitched. Her legs nearly gave out beneath her. I was the dignified widow of the Harper heir, the respected manager of the family’s domestic affairs. And now…I was being forced to bow my head to this…this damn woman? Forty years of carefully cultivated prestige—gone in an instant! Her chest heaved with ragged breaths, but Emelia had survived worse humiliations. She would endure this too.
With mechanical steps, she approached Morgan and seized her daughter’s wrist in a vice-like grip. Morgan tried to pull away, but Emelia’s nails dug in mercilessly.
Then, Emelia bent at the waist in a perfect 90-degree bow. She wrenched Morgan’s head down in unison, her voice dripping with poisoned honey. “Mrs. Graham, please forgive my daughter’s childish behavior. I hope you’ll be magnanimous enough to overlook her mistakes.”
A sharp pinch to Morgan’s arm. “Say it.”
Morgan gritted her teeth. I won’t say it!
Emelia scolded her, “Do you want me to part with you throwing our faces right here?!”
Morgan’s entire body shook, her teeth grinding loud enough to hear. “I’m…sorry.”
Summer observed the bowing figures before her, her expression unreadable. “Learn to guard your tongue. Next time, an apology won’t be enough.”
Morgan’s head snapped up, her face twisted with rage. “You—”
“Enough!” Martin’s cane slammed against the floor. “Get out of here, both of you!” Any further outbursts, and not even I could shield them from Fraser’s wrath.
Emelia hauled Morgan away, their retreating figures hunched beneath the weight of a hundred mocking stares. Martin turned to Fraser and Summer with a weary sigh. “My apologies, Fraser. This reflects poorly on our family’s upbringing. Summer, please accept my sincerest regrets.”
Though Fraser’s protectiveness warmed her, Summer had no wish to fuel rumors of him bullying the elderly. “Mr. Martin, there’s no need. The matter is settled.”
As the crowd dispersed, the atmosphere in the banquet hall shifted palpably. The curious, envious glances once directed at Summer now held something new: fear. Even Liliah and Sasha had vanished during the apology, their cowardice on full display.
She tilted her face toward the crescent moon, its silver light softening her features. “Did I cause trouble for you today?”
Fraser stopped walking. When she turned to him, his gaze was darker than the night sky, deeper than the ocean. “The only thing that matters is whether you were hurt.”
Summer’s heart swelled. This was why I felt so safe, so certain, facing the world’s malice. Because he was always there—my unshakable foundation. Fraser tucked a windblown strand of hair behind her ear, his thumb lingering against her cheek. “What’s that look for? Touched by my heroics?”