Chapter 49
Her words were like a splash of ice water, dousing the flames of Lilith's fury.
Of course, she knew exactly who Jacob was. And she was even more aware of the terrifying consequences of truly pissing him off.
The Moretti family was powerful, no doubt, but a head-on confrontation with Jacob—at the peak of his influence and infamous for his ruthless methods—was far from a wise move. It certainly wasn't a risk she could afford to take on her own.
Lilith's chest heaved, her glare fixed on Elizabeth. Her beautiful eyes churned with a toxic mix of indignation, rage, and a sliver of fear, the kind that comes from having a raw nerve struck.
She obviously had no intention of starting a war with the Smith family over two dogs, especially not when her father and the family elders had yet to make their stance on the Smiths clear.
The rage on her face slowly twisted into a warped smile, a chilling expression that didn't reach her eyes, making her look even more sinister.
"Fine. Very fine," Lilith said through gritted teeth. "Elizabeth, you just keep pushing my buttons."
She tore her gaze away from the dogs' corpses as if they had never existed. Her attention shifted to the boy still slumped on the floor, trembling uncontrollably. Her eyes filled with undisguised disgust and hatred, as if she were looking at a pile of filthy trash.
"You pity him?" Lilith sneered, prodding the wound on the boy's leg with the toe of her shoe. He cried out in pain again. "You think he's innocent? Let me tell you, he's a bastard! His shameless mother, a maid, actually thought she could climb into my father's bed. And she gave birth to this mutt!"
Her voice shot up, laced with venom. "No one takes what's mine! My father is mine! Everything in the Moretti family will be mine one day! Anyone who dares to touch it will pay the price! His mother got her punishment, and now it's his turn! And you—"
Lilith whirled around, her eyes bloodshot as she glared at Elizabeth. "You stole Jacob. You stole the position that should have been mine! You're just like him, a common thief! And if you dare to do it, you have to be ready for the consequences! No one takes what belongs to Lilith Moretti! Anyone who touches what's mine will die!"
Her hysterical outburst laid bare her terrifyingly possessive nature. In her eyes, everything she considered hers—her father, her family, Jacob—was off-limits. Anyone who dared to encroach was an unforgivable enemy.
Elizabeth listened quietly, her expression a placid mask. This spoiled, psychologically twisted heiress's meltdown was, to her, simply laughable.
"Is that so?" Elizabeth said, not bothering to argue. "I'll be waiting. But for now," she tucked the gun back into her pocket, "I'm a bit tired. Ms. Moretti, if your little tea party isn't over, I'd like to find a place to sit."
She completely dismissed Lilith's threats and fury, as if swatting away an annoying fly.
The blatant disregard sent shivers of rage through Lilith, but what little reason she had left, combined with her fear of Jacob, forced her to suppress the urge to lash out.
She took a few deep breaths, forcing a smile so stiff and ugly it looked painful.
"Of course. The tea party hasn't even started," she said, practically chewing on the words. She then snapped at the pale-faced maid who had been standing like a statue in the background. "What are you standing there for? Take Ms. Windsor to the tea room! And get the refreshments ready!"
The maid flinched and quickly bowed to Elizabeth, gesturing for her to follow.
Elizabeth gave one last look at the boy on the floor, his eyes hollow with despair. She said nothing and followed the maid, leaving the bloody corridor behind.
Lilith shot a final, venomous glare at the boy and the bodyguards, a silent order to clean up the mess. Then she too turned, her heels clicking angrily as she stormed towards the tea room.
The tea room was slightly brighter, the decor more conventional, but it still carried the signature gloomy aesthetic of the Moretti family. A long table, draped in a white lace cloth, was laden with delicate pastries and snacks.
Elizabeth took a seat in the guest's chair.
Lilith entered shortly after, having composed herself, but her eyes remained dark and stormy. The two sat in a tense, awkward silence.
Lilith watched as Elizabeth reached for the coffee cup set before her, a vicious, triumphant smirk barely touching her lips.
She had specifically ordered someone to coat the handle of Elizabeth's cup with industrial-strength superglue.
The moment Elizabeth picked it up, the glue would instantly bond to her fingers. In her panic, she'd surely drop the cup, spilling scalding coffee all over herself. It would be a beautifully humiliating scene, and she might even get a nasty burn out of it.
Lilith, mindful of Elizabeth's earlier warnings, had dialed back her revenge to the level of a cruel prank.
However, just as Lilith watched in eager anticipation, as Elizabeth's fingers were about to close around the cup's handle—
Elizabeth's hand, in one fluid, natural motion, changed course.
She simply pinched the rim of the cup between her thumb and forefinger, lifted it to her lips, blew gently on the surface, and took a small sip.
The movement was seamless, utterly unbothered.
The smug smile on Lilith's face froze, her pupils constricting.
How was that possible?
This crude, idiotic woman—how could she drink coffee in such a barbaric way? Did she somehow know the handle was trapped?
Before Lilith could process it, distracted and agitated, she instinctively reached for her own cup of coffee. To appear normal, she deliberately wrapped her fingers around the handle, just as she always did.
The next second, a strange, sticky sensation shot up from the ceramic.
Lilith let out a short gasp and tried to pull her hand away, only to find her fingers were fused to the glue-slathered handle.
Her frantic movement caused the cup to tilt, and the boiling liquid inside sloshed out, splashing onto the back of her hand. A patch of skin instantly turned an angry red. Lilith sucked in a sharp breath, a cocktail of shock, rage, and pain painting her face in shades of red and white.
She shook her hand violently, trying to fling the cup off, but the adhesive was brutally effective. The cup was stuck to her as if it had grown there.
This cup, this glue—it was all meant for Elizabeth!
How could this… how could this be stuck to her?!
Her head snapped up. Across the table, Elizabeth was calmly sipping her coffee, her gaze placid, almost… mocking.
You?! You did this?!
The realization hit Lilith like a physical blow. This bitch must have switched the cups somehow! She had seen through the trap and turned it back on her!
Humiliation! Fury! Searing pain!
The emotions swirled into a toxic storm inside her, threatening to make her explode. Her mouth fell open, ready to unleash a torrent of accusations, consequences be damned. But just then, the heavy doors of the tea room were thrown open from the outside.