Chapter 82: Humiliation at the Dinner Table
Octavia looked up. Her smile for Damian vanished the moment her eyes landed on Evelyn.
“You’re here,” Octavia said flatly, then turned to Camilla. “Camilla, this is the Damian I often mention.”
Camilla stood up, her movements graceful, her eyes fixed on Damian. “Mr. Green, I’ve heard so much about you.” Evelyn, standing right beside Damian, was completely ignored by both women.
Dinner soon began. The long table was set with silver cutlery gleaming under the chandelier. Octavia sat at the head, Damian to her right, and Camilla across from him. Evelyn, however, was placed at the very end of the table, like an observer.
“Camilla, try the Beef Bourguignon,” Octavia said, smiling. “It’s the chef's specialty. I know you studied in France, so tell me if it meets your standards.”
“Thank you, Auntie.” Camilla tasted it and immediately smiled in delight. “It’s excellent, more authentic than what I had in Paris.”
Octavia nodded, glancing at Damian. “You see? I told you Camilla has good taste. She’s not only a business school graduate but also insightful about art and cuisine. Damian, you two must have a lot to discuss professionally.”
Damian cut his steak calmly. “Miss Cole is indeed exceptional.”
Octavia seemed to have been waiting for that. She put down her silverware and wiped her lips with a napkin. “More than exceptional, Camilla is gentle and business-savvy. That is the ideal partner for the Green family. Some people are just a drain—all they do is spend money and look miserable, offering the family no support.”
The insult was sharp. Evelyn tightened her grip on her silverware, humiliated. She lowered her head, quietly cutting her food, forcing herself to swallow the shame along with it. She looked at Damian, hoping he would say something to defend his wife.
He didn't.
Damian simply sipped his wine, seemingly deaf to his mother's insults. His silence hurt more than Octavia's words. This was the man she had loved for eight years. In his eyes, she was now less important than a newly met business associate.
Just then, Camilla, who had been observing the whole time, spoke up. She raised her glass and looked down the table at Evelyn. “Evelyn, I heard you used to study design?”
Evelyn looked up, meeting Camilla’s judgmental, superior gaze. “Yes, I did.”
“What a shame,” Camilla said with a soft laugh. “I hear the design industry demands constant talent and dedication. After being out of the workplace for so long, constantly tied to the kitchen, you must have forgotten everything you learned, haven't you?” She paused, her gaze sweeping over Evelyn’s posture, then covered her mouth. “Oh dear, did I say something wrong? It’s just… the way you used your cutlery was a bit unusual, not quite the etiquette our circle is accustomed to. I thought you might just be out of practice from not attending these events often.”
It was open mockery—of her background, of her status as a dependent housewife, of her unworthiness to be a Green. A tense silence fell over the table. Octavia let out a sneer, clearly pleased with Camilla’s jab. All eyes were on Evelyn, waiting for her breakdown.
Evelyn felt her stomach churn, the nausea returning. It wasn't the food, it was the people in the room. She took a breath, forcing down the urge to vomit. Just as she prepared to fire back, a sharp pain shot through her abdomen. The baby was warning her. Don’t get angry. Don't lose control. Fighting them now would only lead to more humiliation and Damian’s deeper annoyance. She had to endure it—for the baby, and for her plan for revenge.
Evelyn slowly put down her silverware, looked up, and offered a polite, cold smile. “Miss Cole is right,” she said calmly. “I have been out of the workforce for a while, and I’m rusty on many ‘rules.’ After all, for the past eight years, I’ve been busy looking after this home, unlike Miss Cole, who has the leisure to study which hand should hold the fork to appear more ‘noble.’”
Camilla’s smile froze. Octavia’s face darkened. “A sharp tongue!”
Damian finally put down his glass, shooting Evelyn an annoyed glance. “Enough. Just eat, keep the drama down.” He stopped Evelyn but failed to address Camilla’s provocation. Evelyn lowered her eyes, hiding the desolation within them.
The dinner had clarified everything. In this house, she was no longer the mistress, no longer even a person. She was a repulsive decoration.
When dinner ended, the staff cleared the plates. Octavia Green dabbed her mouth with a napkin and looked across the table at Evelyn. “Damian, why don't you take Camilla for a walk in the garden? I hear the roses are beautiful, perfect for you young people to discuss your partnership.”
Damian didn't refuse. He didn't look at Evelyn, instead rising to invite Camilla to join him. Only the two women remained in the dining room. The tension thickened. Octavia dropped her pretense of elegance. She opened her handbag, pulled out a check, and slid it across the table toward Evelyn. It stopped right beside Evelyn’s hand.
“That’s one million,” Octavia’s voice was sharp. “That is the last payment you will receive from me. Take the money, file for divorce, and leave Damian’s life.” Evelyn looked at the check. It had many zeros—enough for an ordinary person to live comfortably—but for the Greens, it was simply hush money.
“Don’t interfere with him and Camilla,” Octavia ordered. “A woman from an orphanage doesn't deserve the Green name. Eight years, and you haven't managed to produce an heir, yet you cling to the title of Mrs. Green. Have some shame.”
Orphanage. No heir. The words were like barbs in Evelyn’s most vulnerable spot. She felt a sharp pain in her abdomen. She was carrying Damian’s child, and the baby’s grandmother was trying to pay her off to leave. The slights of the past eight years, Damian’s betrayal, Sienna’s provocations—it all surged up, turning into a furious fire.