Chapter 159: Crossing the Line
That remark was a veiled jab—mocking Wyatt’s bad leg and implying he couldn’t have children, so, of course, Paul’s child would be born first. Yunice looked up, meeting the crowd’s smug, malicious smiles. They weren’t just mocking Wyatt’s condition; they were also mocking her personal life. Some people simply couldn’t stand to see others doing well. They always found a way to flaunt their sense of superiority by picking at someone else’s weakest point. Like ants biting an elephant’s leg—then running off, bragging like they’d conquered a mountain.
Yunice shot the relatives a mocking glance, then turned to Jackson with a smile. “Uncle, I’ll do my best to give you a grandchild.” The moment the words left her mouth, the room plunged into an awkward silence. The others looked at her with barely concealed contempt, while Jackson still hadn’t recovered from her switching “Grandpa” to “Uncle.” Wyatt sat in silence, his face like stone. To him, Yunice’s attempt to defuse the situation only made things worse—trying to cover it up only drew more attention.
Sure enough, someone couldn’t help themselves. “Ms. Saunders wants to beat Paul to the finish line, huh? But having a kid isn’t something you can do on your own.” Another chimed in, “Come on, she’s not new to this—plenty experienced. Maybe she really can crank out a kid or two.” They bounced off each other, treating Yunice’s bedroom life like a joke—jabbing at her history with Paul. Elianna clenched her fists under the table, bitter that Yunice’s big mouth was dragging Wyatt into public embarrassment. Wyatt’s eyes dropped, the look in them ice-cold. His lips were tight, the corner of his mouth twitching with a murderous edge. He was about to snap—until a soft hand landed on his back under the table. That feather-light pressure held back a storm.
Yunice turned slightly, her eyes on the woman who’d just spoken, her tone smooth and mocking. “You flatter yourself. You’re the one with a son and a daughter—you’re the real expert. Must’ve racked up a lot of hands-on experience, right?” The woman forced a smile. “Just a joke. Don’t tell me you’re mad?” “Oh, not at all,” Yunice said, still smiling. “I’m complimenting you. And it’s perfect timing—my dear nephew could use some of that experience.” The woman recoiled. “Your nephew?” “Yep,” Yunice said pleasantly. “Paul.”
Linda and Jensen both turned to look at Yunice. Even Jackson gave her a sharp glance. Jensen, who already disliked her, said, “Why are you dragging Paul into this? We’re talking about you.” Linda followed up awkwardly. “Ms. Saunders, this is the Powell family. It’s not like the Saunders family, where you talk about such crude topics at the dinner table.”
But Yunice wasn’t finished. “Besides, the Powell family’s lineage depends on us now. Paul can’t have kids anyway…” Jensen caught a hint of her muttering and slammed his palm on the table. “What did you just say?” Yunice didn’t answer. She just gave him a look—figure it out yourself. That pause made the atmosphere at the table suddenly feel scalding hot. What did she mean, Paul can’t have children? How would she even know that? Could it be because of…?
Everyone’s faces stiffened, lips tight, like they’d just heard juicy gossip but were pretending they hadn’t. Jackson’s expression darkened with barely restrained anger. Jensen, furious and humiliated, snapped, “Wyatt! Can’t you control your woman?” Wyatt looked up. His cold, mocking gaze landed on Jensen, but his words were meant for Yunice. “Why waste time talking to them?” His eyes swept over the two gossiping women. “If you’ve got a tongue and don’t know how to use it, I can cut it off for you.” Both women stiffened in fright, their eyes dropping to the fork Wyatt was casually spinning in his fingers.
Wyatt losing it at the dinner table wasn’t new. Last time, he’d stabbed a relative’s hand with a steak knife. Ever since, the family made sure no knives were placed at any table where Wyatt was present. But back then, Jackson hadn’t let him off easy. No one thought he’d dare pull that again. Of course, Jackson was right there, and he wasn’t about to let Wyatt act like that. Jackson grabbed the porcelain bowl beside him and flung it at Wyatt. Everything happened fast—Yunice leapt up and threw herself in front of him. The bowl smashed against the back of her head.
Still fuming, Jackson snapped, “Shameless! Ruining a perfectly good family dinner!” Wyatt looked at Yunice, struck by the bowl, and fury ignited behind his eyes; a vein throbbed at his temple. He pushed himself up with one hand on the table and yanked the tablecloth in one motion—plates, cups, silverware, all flew off, soaked in sauces and broth, crashing toward the other side. People screamed and ducked, but it couldn’t drown out Wyatt’s low, furious growl. “If no one wants to eat—then no one eats!”