Chapter 509 The Whip Falls Flat
All the relatives looked toward the Saunders family with the eagerness of spectators at a circus.
Brother against sister. A mother taking sides. The show was just getting started.
Mr. Terrance clutched the whip but noticed Owen hadn’t reached for it.
In fact, the moment Owen’s fingers brushed the whip, he recoiled as if burned.
Mr. Terrance frowned and urged, “Take it! With trash like her, you have to beat her until she obeys. Otherwise she’ll keep walking all over you! Didn’t your mother and I teach you how to manage a household? This isn’t the time to go soft! You used to be great at this—what, you’re growing up and losing your nerve now? It’s because you haven’t disciplined her that she’s gotten this bold, daring to raise her hand to her elders! If you don’t put your foot down today, you’re the one she’ll hit next!”
His words buzzed like a swarm of flies in Owen’s ears, a piercing, incessant drone. Owen snapped. “That’s enough!”
He grabbed the whip out of Mr. Terrance’s hand.
Mr. Terrance’s face lit up in triumph. Owen had finally come to his senses.
He let go of the whip, casting a smug look toward the other relatives—like he was inviting them to enjoy the show with him.
The Moore family’s only “success story” was Lily’s branch.
People envy the rich and despise the poor—especially relatives. They act like they’re rooting for you, but deep down, they can’t wait to see your life fall apart. The worse you have it, the happier they are.
But Lily and her son never understood that. All they ever did was chase their approval.
Yunice stared at the whip in Owen’s hand. Gill, visibly tense, clutched a cushion protectively in front of Yunice, clearly ready to fight him off.
Owen caught her reaction and scoffed. What did she think—that her own brother was really going to beat his sister in front of everyone with that thorn-covered whip?
Holding the whip felt like gripping a branding iron. The heat seared into his chest.
He knew that ever since bringing Yunice back from the asylum, he’d been locked in a battle of wills with her—always trying to win, to dominate her, to make her submit.
He had even hit her in fits of anger, without thinking. But those were moments of rashness, not premeditation.
Now, holding the whip, the memories stabbed at him—how he’d used it to lash Yunice and her clothes tore apart. Her back bled.
When he thought back to the image of her blood-soaked back, even he was horrified that he’d once gone that far.
All for one measly compliment from Mr. Terrance?
What the hell was Mr. Terrance anyway? Just a petty old man with a mean streak.
He’d raised two disgusting, sleazy sons. What did he know about running a family?
All he’d ever done was leverage his status as an elder, Lily’s desperation to please, and Owen’s youth to seize control of the Saunders household.
And thinking back… was Yunice even wrong that day?
All she’d done was greet Mr. Terrance—and he hadn’t heard her. But he grabbed that as an excuse to make a scene.
He said she was rude and ordered ten lashes.
But was failing to greet someone really such a grave crime?
Mr. Terrance’s sons had been arrogant freeloaders in the Saunders home for years. No one ever disciplined them.
Because they had backing, Yunice didn’t.
The people who were supposed to stand up for her were too busy kissing up to Mr. Terrance.
Owen had already figured all that out long ago.
So why would he ever hit Yunice again?
No matter what she had done, she was still his sister—and what happened within the Saunders family should stay within the Saunders family. Who was this old bastard to boss them around?
With that, Owen flung the whip to the ground. “You don’t have the right to ask her to apologize!”
Mr. Terrance froze. “Owen, have you lost your damn mind? I’m your great-uncle!”
Owen said, “So what? You’re just my great-uncle—she’s my sister! If she did something wrong, I’ll deal with her. You can’t even raise your own sons right. What makes you think you’re fit to lecture us?”
Lily was shocked by the sudden shift. She rushed forward and tried to push Owen back, whispering urgently, “Owen, how can you talk to your great-uncle like that? He’s my family—he’s our support. We rely on him! You can’t afford to offend him…”
Owen looked at her and said coldly, “Mom, you still don’t get it? He’s never achieved anything in his life—what can he do for you? Can’t you see it? All he wants is to watch us make fools of ourselves. He lives for the moment we crash and burn, just so he can enjoy the spectacle.”