Chapter 33
Preston urged her in a low voice from the side. "Once you've got the fingerprint, let's get out of here. Don't let anyone see."
"I know." Gemma pressed Cleo's thumb into the powder on the dish, then onto the document, still muttering under her breath. "What about Allegra? That bitch got Allegra sent to prison. If Marshall hadn't pulled strings to get her out, who knows what cell she'd still be rotting in. And you, as her grandmother, instead of thinking about your own granddaughter, you favor that outsider... You deserve to die!"
Lucinda stood outside the door, listening to every word, her gaze growing colder and colder.
She remembered when she was little—Cleo holding her hand as they went to the market, pulling out crumpled bills from her handkerchief to buy her candy.
Cleo came from a wealthy merchant family. She was their only daughter. After marrying into the Wipere family, life wasn't extravagant, but it was respectable.
Later, when the Wipere family started their business, Cleo handed over all her savings to her daughter and son-in-law. She lived off the rent from a few old properties after that.
In those years, the Wipere family took the money and promptly cast Cleo aside—never checking in, never caring.
Cleo grew old. She couldn't earn much. She had a few houses but no cash, and she had to raise her granddaughter.
Life was hard, but Cleo never let her go hungry.
Three years ago, the Wipere family tried to kick her out. They pressured Cleo to change her will, demanding she leave those properties to them.
Cleo refused. She said her belongings would only go to Cindy.
The Wipere family flew into a rage. They shoved Cleo to the ground, injuring her badly, then turned and left—refusing even to take her to the hospital.
It was Lucinda who rushed back that night, took Cleo to the hospital, and paid all the medical bills herself.
For three years, the Wipere family hadn't visited Cleo once.
They only thought about Cleo's properties. Thought about them for three years.
And now, while she wasn't around, they'd come back.
Lucinda's expression darkened. She stood in the doorway, looking at Gemma and Preston, and spoke coldly. "Get out."
The two inside jumped at the sudden voice. When they turned and saw it was Lucinda, fury flared across their faces.
Gemma slammed the documents onto the bed, planted her hands on her hips, and stood in front of Lucinda, her voice shrill. "Get out? You're the one who should get out! Lucinda, I see right through you now. You hid this old woman in this dump of a nursing home just so you could swallow her inheritance whole. Stop pretending to be filial!"
Preston also recovered, adjusting his glasses. His tone was calmer than Gemma's, but every word was meant to smear Lucinda. "Lucinda, your grandmother is old. Her mind isn't clear. It's possible she's been deceived. But those properties are the foundation of the Wipere family. You can't hide her away just because she's unconscious. That's illegal."
Lucinda looked at them, the corner of her mouth curving slightly. "And stealing her fingerprint while she's unconscious—that's not illegal?"
Gemma's face flushed bright red, her voice growing shriller. "What are you talking about! She's my mother! Her things should be mine! You're an outsider—what right do you have—"
"There are cameras here." Lucinda cut her off, pointing toward the corner. "Everything you just did was caught clearly on the hallway cameras. If you keep trying to steal Grandma's assets, I'll call the police right now."
Gemma's words stuck in her throat. Her face went from red to white.
Preston's expression changed too. Instinctively, he looked up at the ceiling.
Sure enough, there was a camera in the corner, its red indicator light blinking steadily.
Gemma opened her mouth, wanting to say something, but when she met Lucinda's unnervingly calm gaze, every word jammed in her throat.
She tugged on Preston's sleeve, lowering her voice. "Let's go."
Preston shot one unwilling glance at Cleo lying in the bed, then at Lucinda, before finally letting Gemma drag him toward the door.
As they passed Lucinda, Gemma glared at her viciously, her lips trembling—but in the end, she didn't dare say another word.
The two disappeared down the corridor without looking back once.
Lucinda closed the door and returned to the bedside.
She leaned down to check Cleo's condition. Pulse steady. Breathing even. No abrasions on her hands. No powder residue under her nails.
She checked several times before straightening up and gently tucking Cleo's hand back under the blanket. "Grandma, it's okay now."
Her voice was soft. "They're gone."
Cleo lay peacefully, her expression serene—like she was truly asleep.
Lucinda sat by the bed a while longer before finally standing to leave.
She didn't want to disturb Cleo's rest. The caregiver would be making rounds soon anyway.
She quietly pulled the door open and stepped out.
The corridor was silent. She'd only taken a few steps when the sharp click of high heels echoed behind her.
"Lucinda! Stop right there!"
Gemma's voice exploded in the corridor, shrill as nails on glass.
She'd appeared from some corner, her makeup smeared, eyes bloodshot—like she'd been possessed.
"Are you done yet?" Lucinda turned around to face her.
Gemma rushed up to her in a few strides, her finger practically jabbing Lucinda's nose. "Don't think I don't know what you're doing! You're hiding my mother here just to trick her out of her houses! My mother's mind isn't clear—she's been fooled by you completely. But I'm not stupid! I'm telling you, those houses belong to the Wipere family. You won't get a single cent!"
"Lucinda, don't think a camera will scare me off! I'm telling you—those houses are my mother's, and my mother's things are mine! You tricked an old woman into leaving her assets to you—I'm not letting this go!"
Her voice grew louder and louder, drawing the attention of a few nurses in the hallway.
"Who do you think you are? You freeloaded off the Wipere family for twenty years, and now you want to steal our family's assets? I'm telling you—"
"Gemma." Lucinda cut her off, her gaze calm as she looked at the hysterical woman before her. "Every word you just said is grounds for a defamation lawsuit. Your attempt to steal her fingerprint was caught on camera—that's attempted fraud. Three years ago, you pushed Grandma and caused her serious injuries that left her comatose—that's assault."
Her voice remained steady. "Put those three things together, and you'll be in prison for a very long time. Want to try?"
Gemma's mouth hung open, her finger still suspended in midair. She stood frozen like a statue.
"I don't have time to settle these accounts with you right now." Lucinda looked at her, lips curving slightly. "But if you show up in front of Grandma again, I'll make sure you repay every debt from the past three years—one by one."
The corridor fell so silent you could hear a pin drop.
Gemma's face went from red to white, then from white to ashen. Her lips trembled, but not a single word came out.
Her hand dropped. Her fingers clutched her purse strap until her knuckles turned white, but in the end, she didn't dare say another word.
A low voice came from the far end of the corridor.
"Lucinda."
Reginald strode over, his presence exuding an intimidating pressure that made it hard to look directly at him.
He stopped beside Lucinda, his gaze landing on Gemma's face—cold as winter wind.
Gemma's legs involuntarily weakened.