Chapter 582 Owed Debts and Old Wounds

Back then, Yunice had taken the path of least resistance. Rather than make a scene, she’d simply eaten a bite of the mussels without fuss. It wasn’t that she couldn’t eat them–she just didn’t like them.

And she was certain almost no one knew that.

So how had Wyatt predicted such a personal, obscure preference? Was it really just a lucky guess?

Wyatt brought the conversation back to her earlier question. “Helping Morgan is a matter of repaying a debt.”

Yunice countered, “But didn’t you say Nora deceived you, even got Mr. Fiona killed? And you still owe her a debt? Morgan’s a piece of trash.”

Wyatt replied, “Who said I’m doing it for Nora?”

Yunice lazily scooped up a bit of vanilla ice cream with her gold dessert spoon. “That’s what everyone says. Haven’t you heard?”

“Wise people don’t believe rumors,” Wyatt said calmly.

Her hand paused mid-air, and she shot him a look. Was he calling her stupid?

Wyatt’s gaze lingered on the long, elegant spoon, resting between Yunice’s pale fingers. Her nails were soft pink and translucent, and somehow, the sight tugged at something unspoken and suggestive.

Sensing his gaze, Yunice set the spoon down quietly and lowered her hand beneath the table.

Wyatt continued, “I’m helping Morgan because Madam Mary asked me to.”

He went on, “The Powell family probably brought this on themselves. After all their misdeeds, every child born into that family comes into the world under a curse.”

Come to think of it, that wasn’t wrong.

Margaret hadn’t just been pregnant with Paul–she’d lost several children before him. When she finally did carry Paul to term, she nearly died in childbirth. If it hadn’t been for Will, both mother and child might’ve been lost.

And Wyatt’s own mother? Jackson had disregarded her. When she went into labor, no one even opened the door to let her through.

Yunice hadn’t been around back then, but she could imagine just how brutal it must’ve been for Wyatt’s mother to survive.

Wyatt twirled the glass in his fingers, recalling, “Nobody helped her. They would’ve been glad if she’d died with the baby. They heard her cries for help and ignored them.”

He smirked bitterly. “I wasn’t lucky enough to have your dad around to deliver me.”

Yunice could hear the resentment. Was he really still hung up on the fact that her father had delivered Paul?

She changed the subject. “So what happened next?”

“My mom didn’t want to die. She climbed the wall and ran.”

Yunice felt a chill. How much strength and willpower did it take to be nine months pregnant, in labor, and still manage to scale a wall just to survive?

“She collapsed in front of a car. The driver took her to the hospital. That’s when she found out the one who helped her was Madam Mary.”

Yunice finally understood. That kind of life-saving debt wasn’t easy to repay.

No wonder Wyatt had let Madam Mary bite through his wrist during an episode. She’d saved his mother’s life.

“When Nora was sent to me by the Johnson family, it was also Madam Mary who contacted me. She asked me to take care of her, not make things harder for her.” Nora wasn’t welcome at home.

Wyatt smirked. “Somehow, that turned into ‘love at first sight.’ I wasn’t going to go around clearing it up, telling everyone I was just paying off a debt.”

Yunice was surprised. So it hadn’t been infatuation or favoritism?

Wyatt remained casual. “Later I figured out she was planted with an agenda, so I played along. We were together for a while, and when I exposed her, I ended it. She probably wanted revenge. That’s why she staged the steel mill incident–to die with me. Then she backed out.”

Two years of dating, dismissed in a few offhanded sentences.

Yunice frowned. With Wyatt’s personality, it wasn’t surprising. He was capable of far worse.

Just like he’d said–he never really saw people as people. Maybe he’d just been bored.

“Helping Morgan is about keeping Madam Mary happy.”

He looked away, voice low. “The so-called high society? It’s just a den of beasts. People chase thrills, status, whatever they need. There’s no fairness. No one climbs to the top for justice. This isn’t a fairytale where good wins.”

Yunice realized he was justifying himself.

Wyatt pressed his lips together, recognizing that he sounded defensive. He knew what he was doing wasn’t good.

He might be rotten–but Yunice wasn’t. And deep down, he wanted her to understand him. To stand beside him.

Because no matter how he spun it—he cared what she thought. Too much.