Chapter 7 The One Who Is Not Loved Is the Third Party
Rupert stood in the shadows, his eyes narrowing at Harper's tightly clenched hands.
Memories from earlier that day flooded back.
"Jared is still sleeping. Can't you keep it down for once?" He snapped.
Harper's fists tightened as she eyed the nightgown Irene was wearing, her gaze sharpening.
She knew Irene was deliberately provoking her, but she had absolutely no right to touch something Niamh had left her!
"Take it off."
Harper's tone was ice-cold, her glare piercing Irene like daggers, making the woman flinch.
Irene instinctively stepped back, studying Harper. So she wasn't even pretending anymore?
At this thought, Irene's expression grew more pitiful. She squeezed out a few tears and looked at Harper. "Harper, it's all my fault. I... I'll change right now."
She began to remove the outer layer of the nightgown.
The gossamer-thin fabric fell into her hands, but just as she was about to hand it to Harper, Irene's legs "gave out," and she conveniently tumbled onto the nearby sofa.
A sharp crack echoed through the room.
When Harper snatched the garment from her hands, the once-white nightgown now had a massive tear in it, looking like nothing more than a tattered rag.
Irene, seeing her scheme succeed, couldn't hide the satisfied smile tugging at her lips.
"I'm sorry, I'll buy you a new—"
Harper's palm connected with her face, her eyes blazing red.
This was one of the few things Niamh had left her. Only Harper knew how much she treasured this nightgown.
And now, this shameless homewrecker had deliberately ruined it!
The delicate fabric was already rare, and after all these years, restoring it was practically impossible.
She grabbed Irene's hand, seething. "You did that on purpose!"
A flash of fear crossed Irene's face, but when she spotted Rupert behind her, her heart skipped a beat. Her performance became even more dramatic, tears flowing freely.
Just then, Rupert shoved Harper away.
Her frail body flew like a leaf, landing on the sofa.
Harper looked at the adulterous couple before her, fuming with rage, but mostly feeling a cold emptiness at what she couldn't salvage.
"You bitch! Who permitted you to put your hands on Irene? It's just a dress and you're making such a scene. No wonder Jared can't stand you if this is how you act in front of me!" Rupert was like he had found a puzzle.
All the evidence from recent days seemed to point to Harper.
Whatever softness Rupert might have had for her vanished completely.
Irene cried pitifully, curling into his embrace.
Their blatant intimacy no longer affected Harper.
She stood up, ignoring the pain in her back.
"Do I care?"
Rupert frowned, instinctively asking, "What?"
"Whether you like or hate me, do you think I still care?"
This was the first time Harper had spoken so coldly to him.
Rupert's eyes darkened, his sharp Adam's apple bobbing. He stared at Harper, feeling she had changed.
There was something inexplicably different about her.
But at the next moment, Irene's hand clutched his, her soft whimper chasing away his remaining thoughts.
"Harper, I know you don't like me, that you resent me, but... but this was just an accident."
Her eyes reddened, tears welling up but not falling—making it seem as if Harper had been the one to cruelly mistreat her.
This was what Irene did best: capturing Rupert's heart.
Harper's expression remained unchanged.
"Your appearance in the Getty Family was an 'accident.' Wearing my nightgown, half-dressed, seducing my husband Rupert—that was an 'accident.' In two months, Irene, will you tell me that carrying Rupert's child in your belly is also an 'accident'?"
"Harper! What nonsense are you spewing?" Rupert glared at her fiercely.
If he weren't against hitting women, Harper wouldn't still be standing.
Harper had always feared his anger the most.
He must have been too lenient with her lately.
That's why she dared to challenge him again and again.
With this thought, Rupert's gaze grew even more hostile.
"Go back to your room! Don't come out without my permission."
Harper's lips curved into a mocking smile. She crossed her arms, looking down at them. "Are you telling me what to do?"
"Harper, this is the Getty Family home," Irene said softly, but unable to hide her smugness.
So what if Harper was Mrs. Getty of the Getty Family?
Everyone in Meridian Bayl knew that Harper was Mrs. Getty in name only. Rupert's heart had never belonged to her, and the Getty Family only wanted Harper for her status.
Harper's smile widened. "So what?"
"As long as I'm part of the Getty Family, you're nothing but a homewrecker who can't show her face in public."
Perhaps it was Harper's repeated use of "homewrecker" that stung Irene to the core.
She gritted her teeth, unable to contain her fury any longer.
"Only those who aren't loved are homewreckers!"
"You don't understand Rupert at all!"
Harper cast a pitying glance at Rupert.
She thought Rupert was blind, and even more so, that she herself had been blind. How could she have fallen for such a man?
She had compromised for him for so many years, aspiring to be the perfect wife for the Getty Family.
In the end, she was competing with someone like Irene.
Seeing Harper's silence, Irene thought she'd hit a nerve. She stood up with a light chuckle and leaned close to Harper's ear, lowering her voice, "Harper, you can't win against me."
"No one would want a woman like you!"
Harper smiled, and in the next second, her palm struck Irene's face again.
Two consecutive slaps left Irene stunned.
Her finger trembled as she pointed at Harper.
Rupert clenched his jaw, grabbing Harper's right hand before she could strike again.
But to his surprise, Harper swiftly slipped away.
She then disdainfully brushed the wrist Rupert had grabbed.
"For as long as I remain in the Getty Family, keep Irene in check."
"If I catch her snapping at people again, two slaps won't settle it next time."
Both Irene and Rupert froze, their gazes simultaneously landing on Harper.
Was this really Harper?
The same Harper who had been willing to die for Rupert?
Rupert felt the veins on his forehead throb. Looking at the frail Irene, he snarled, "Lock Harper up!"
She kept pushing his boundaries.
Did Harper truly believe he wouldn't touch her? She was nothing but a puppet for the Getty Family.
With that, he shot her one last glare before carrying Irene to the bedroom.
As he walked, he shouted angrily,
"Call a doctor!"