Chapter 179: Still Blocking for Elsie
Paul’s face darkened. “We’re talking about her. Why drag me into this again? It’s Grandpa and Dad who won’t acknowledge Elsie, not me. I never said I wouldn’t take responsibility.”
Owen scoffed. “What use is a coward like you to her anyway? I might as well let Elsie marry into a decent family rather than watching you chase after your wealth.”
Yunice watched the two men tear into each other with a cold sneer. When people were rotten enough, you didn’t have to lift a finger. Just let their interests clash.
“What do you mean?” Paul picked up on the jab, visibly annoyed.
Owen jabbed him right in the ego. “It’s all over Silverbrough; the Powell family keeps getting crushed by Wyatt.”
“Isn’t that why you’re marrying Taylor? She’s rich and powerful; that’ll keep you living off a woman for the rest of your life!”
Paul’s face flushed bright red. He yanked his tie loose, furious. “Say that again, I’ll knock you so senseless you’ll be drinking from a straw the rest of your life!”
“I dare you. I’ll—”
“Go ahead, hit me! I’ve had it with your whole damn Powell family!” Owen raised his fist too.
Just as the two were about to come to blows—crash! Lily hurled a vase at the floor; it shattered loudly, sending shards flying and stopping the fight cold.
She cried out, voice raw and shaking, “What the heck are you two still fighting about? Isn’t Elsie’s hand more important right now?”
Stumbling toward Yunice, she dropped to her knees with a thud on the broken porcelain. Her voice rasped, “Yunny… it’s all my fault, every bit of it. Elsie’s innocent. Please, I’m begging you, give her a chance…”
Blood seeped from Lily’s knees where the sharp edges had cut into her skin.
Panicked, Owen shoved Paul aside and rushed forward to help her. But Lily refused to get up.
Her eyes locked onto Yunice, tears streaming down her face as she pleaded, “Your brother said if Elsie’s fingers don’t get treated within twelve hours, the swelling will deform them permanently. You studied medicine with your dad; you know I’m not lying…”
“I know you blame me—you think I pushed you out as a scapegoat in the Powell family. But you’re wrong. That evidence was flawed; it misled me. But I always believed in you. Even if you did do it, I knew someone must’ve forced your hand. I never stopped believing in you.”
“Thought the same thing. You really can’t blame Mom for that.”
“Trying to flip the script again?”
Yunice said coldly, “Was it really a mistake in the file—or did you smear your finger on it on purpose?”
The report had been rushed; the ink hadn’t dried completely. A simple swipe would’ve smudged it—Lily had done that deliberately to clear Elsie’s name.
That so-called belief in her was nothing more than guilt—her way of easing a guilty conscience. It was her way of pretending the damage had never happened, wiping the slate clean with a single line that claimed she had saved her too, as if that somehow canceled everything else out.
When Yunice refused to let it go, Lily looked wronged. “Fine. Say I did it. I’m admitting it. I’ll even kneel to you if that’s what it takes!”
True to her word, Lily bent at the waist and lowered her forehead toward the sharp shards on the floor, clearly ready to bloody herself to win some sympathy.
Owen caught her just in time, arms tight around her; he wasn’t about to let her do that.
Paul, who’d had enough, snapped, “Yunice, no matter what she did, Madam Lily is still mother. You’re really gonna let her beg and kneel to you like this? Aren’t you afraid you’ll shave years off your own life?”
Yunice shot back, “Did I ask her to beg me?”
“Well, you forced her into it!”
This whole performance—the tears, the blood, the kneeling—Elsie always used. Whoever looked more pitiful got to be ‘right.’
“If emotional blackmail’s your game, that’s fine by me.”
At Yunice’s words, Lily’s eyes lit up with hope.
But Yunice’s voice stayed ice-cold. “Is it really so hard to admit you don’t love me? I’d rather you spell out what you want than keep using fake motherly love to guilt me into doing things.”
Lily choked up again. “That’s not true.”
“What now—gonna say I’m overthinking it? That I’m the one with a black mark on my soul?” Yunice laughed bitterly and tugged up the hem of her pants. “Take a look.”
She was wearing light beige pants, the kind that stained easily and showed everything. Blood had already seeped through the fabric for quite some time, but no one had noticed.
Not until she pointed it out and lifted her leg did they finally see the cut on her ankle.