Chapter 25 How dare you hit my son?
Wesley’s father, mother, brother, and sister were all waiting under the stairs like a group of zombies. I couldn't tell if Wesley had informed them about the divorce based on the question his mother asked me.
“You seem to be in a hurry, so who do you expect to clean this house?”
A humorless chuckle escaped me, and I could see the shock in their eyes at my reaction. All the pain I had buried inside erupted like a volcano.
“If you won’t clean it, then sleep in the filth. I’m not your maid,” I said nonchalantly as I hurried down the stairs, walking past them with my jewelry box and duffle bag.
Unexpectedly, I felt a sharp pain in my scalp, causing me to let out a shrill cry. At the same time, the jewelry box fell from my hand and broke.
I was more concerned about the jewelry box than who had pulled my hair. My heart broke along with it as I knelt before the shattered box.
It felt like something inside me had shattered as well. I released the duffle bag, only to be hit with another pain in my spine.
It was a kick, presumably from Wesley’s mother. She was the only one who would dare to lay a finger on me.
“You bitch. You think you can just do as you please after freeloading off my son?” She raged, while his brother, Bradley, carried the remains of the jewelry box and raised it, as if to smash it on the ground.
“No, stop,” I cried, earning mocking laughter from them. The box was broken, but I could have it repaired. However, I doubted it could be repaired any longer if the damage was worse than before.
Bradley had always been a brat, even as a teenager. He never respected me because I allowed it, and this time, his mother was also in support of whatever he was doing.
“It’s just a jewelry box. Can’t you afford a new one, having been able to afford such clothes?” his mother snarled. “Do you have a sugar daddy now? Is that why you're leaving after freeloading? You have to be our maid to pay back for all the years my son took care of you, you little wretch.”
Every word she uttered brought immense pain to my heart because that was how Wesley made them feel. He made them believe that he was the one taking care of me, but I was done covering up for him.
I slowly rose to my feet and stared her in the eyes. “Do you think that for all these years I have been freeloading off your son? Why don’t you ask him where he got the assets he transferred to your name?”
I was so upset, but the surprising part was the way the middle-aged woman stared at me as if I was speaking gibberish.
It seemed that even she did not know that my assets were in her name. How smart of Wesley? His mother could not claim them, and neither could I or Kiara.
“What are you talking about?” she asked. Before I could speak, her husband interrupted.
“The good-for-nothing girl is cooking up lies against our son. What could she have? Get out of our house.”
As he spoke, Bradley dropped the jewelry box carelessly, the damage was worse than before, and the jewelry scattered all over the room.
“Oh my God, these are treasures," Wesley's sister, Bertha exclaimed as she got down on all fours and began to gather them together. "The bitch has really been spending our big brother's money on luxury items."
I found it pointless to explain the origin of the jewelry to her, but I couldn't let her get away with it. Without warning, I slapped the brat hard across the face, causing him to scream.
"Mom, Dad, the bitch hit me!" he cried out.
The horrified expressions on his parents' faces intimidated me slightly, but I stood my ground. "You saw him break my box and did nothing," I retorted.
Fueled by anger, I slapped the brat across the face once more, but his mother grabbed me by the hair, while Bertha continued to gather my jewelry from the floor.
It was evident that she had no intention of returning it, and at that moment, my scalp throbbed with pain. "Let me go," I demanded through gritted teeth, my heart heavy with sorrow over the loss of my jewelry.
Little did I know that the worst was yet to come. Wesley's father slapped me hard across the face, causing a wave of pain to course through my body and tears to well up in my eyes.
"How dare you hit my son, you good-for-nothing slut?" he shouted, raising his hand to strike me again. However, before he could make contact, a powerful force sent him flying through the air, causing him to crash to the ground unconscious.
Gianni stood there with a fierce look in his eyes, his gaze locking with mine. As the middle-aged woman continued to grip my hair, I saw a new intensity in his eyes that sent a chill down my spine.