Chapter 104
"Richard..." Jennifer's voice cracked, barely audible. "How could you say that?"
She covered her mouth with one hand to suppress a sob, while the other instinctively moved to her stomach. "That night in Oceancrest City, you were so drunk... you wouldn't let me go..."
Turning to Camila with tear-filled eyes, she played the victim perfectly. "Mrs. Neville, I tried to push Richard away, I really did. But he was too strong. I never thought this would happen, I—"
Her carefully crafted words served dual purposes: explaining why Richard would touch her while painting herself as an innocent victim who sacrificed herself to appease him.
Richard's temple throbbed. He remembered the emptiness after returning to his suite that night, and vaguely recalled holding a warm body against his.
But the face remained blurred in his memory.
His instincts told him that even blackout drunk, his body would only respond to one person. In his subconscious, that person should have been Margaret.
But Margaret had been at Crownspire Villa.
Nausea churned in his stomach.
"Enough!" Camila finally recovered from her shock. "Richard, have you lost your mind?" She snatched back the pregnancy report, nearly shoving it in his face.
"It's all here in black and white—the hospital seal, the dates—everything matches! And you're telling me it's not yours?"
Richard didn't look at the report. His gaze moved past his mother's shoulder toward the dining room entrance.
Empty. Margaret had already been escorted away by the maids. That slender, solitary silhouette was crystal clear in his mind.
She had heard everything.
His chest tightened, rage threatening to breach the dam of his rationality.
"I'll say it again," his voice was devoid of warmth. "It's not mine."
"You!" Camila trembled with fury.
Her gaze swept the room, lingering on the table knives. She suddenly stepped back, glaring at him with bloodshot eyes, her voice shrill.
"Fine! You've grown so bold! You won't even listen to your mother anymore, you'd reject a Neville family child!"
She pointed at Richard, then at herself. "Let me tell you something—today, you will claim this child whether you want to or not! If you refuse to acknowledge Jennifer and give her baby legitimate status, I'll end my life right here! When I'm gone, how will you face the Neville ancestors?"
With that, she turned as if to dash herself against a nearby Roman column.
"Mrs. Neville!" Jennifer cried out, forgetting to maintain her facade of weakness as she jumped up to grab her.
The butler and several maids, terrified, rushed forward to restrain Camila.
"Mrs. Camila Neville! Please calm down!"
"Mr. Neville, say something, please!"
Chaos engulfed the dining room.
Richard's expression remained blank as he watched his mother's suicide-threat drama unfold. He saw Jennifer's tear-stained face that couldn't hide her triumph, observed the panicked expressions of everyone around them.
This meticulously arranged dinner, ostensibly to welcome him, had been designed with every detail calculated to trap him.
He could deny it a hundred times, a thousand times. But as long as his mother threatened death, as long as Jennifer's belly grew day by day, all his denials would become a joke—evidence of his callousness and irresponsibility.
The Neville family reputation, his mother's life, a child that was becoming a "fait accompli."
He had been thoroughly outmaneuvered.
Richard slowly lowered his eyes. He said nothing more, only raised his hand to loosen his perfectly knotted tie.
Camila interpreted this gesture as surrender. She immediately stopped struggling, her rage instantly replaced by triumphant joy.
"Alright, everyone stop hovering." She dismissed the servants still surrounding her, then turned to the butler with new instructions, her voice clear and cold: "Go bring Margaret back."
The butler hesitated briefly before bowing in acknowledgment.
Jennifer leaned back in her chair, dabbing the tear stains from the corners of her eyes with a handkerchief, the ghost of a smile playing on her lips.
The real show was just beginning.
Minutes later, Margaret was "assisted" back into the dining room. She wore only a thin cardigan, her face paler than the wall itself. She didn't understand why she had been brought back to this place.
Camila looked at Margaret with utter contempt before moving to Jennifer's side.
Taking her hand with unprecedented gentleness, she said, "Jennifer, you've suffered greatly. Rest assured, the Neville family will never shortchange you."
She turned and nodded to the butler. Understanding her cue, he promptly approached with a velvet box.
Camila opened it and removed a brilliant emerald bracelet of exceptional quality. The jewels sparkled with an inner fire, obviously priceless.
"This bracelet has been passed down through the Neville family, reserved only for the future matriarch of the Neville household."
Camila's gaze swept over Margaret's flat stomach before returning to Jennifer with a satisfied, maternal smile. She took Jennifer's hand and personally slipped the emerald bracelet onto her wrist.
Jennifer admired the rich green against her skin, then lifted her eyes to Margaret with a challenging stare.
Margaret had kept her gaze lowered throughout. Until now. Finally, she slowly raised her head.
Her gaze bypassed everyone else, landing directly on the perpetually silent Richard.
Richard was already looking at her. Their eyes locked.
His gaze was fathomless, like a bottomless ancient well, churning with emotions she couldn't decipher.
Her expression remained perfectly calm, without the slightest ripple. As if this entire spectacle had nothing to do with her. She was merely an outsider, a spectator.
This profound stillness unsettled Richard more than any accusation or outburst could have.
Camila remained oblivious to the undercurrents between them. She was quite pleased with Margaret's "numbness," interpreting it as acceptance of reality.
She cleared her throat and positioned herself in front of Margaret, looking down at her.
"Margaret, you've seen everything." Her voice carried the impatient tone of someone bestowing charity. "Richard has made his choice. Jennifer carries the Neville family's flesh and blood, so naturally, the position of Richard's wife belongs to her."
The butler timely presented a folder. Camila took it and slapped it down in front of Margaret.
"Be sensible and sign these divorce papers. I won't mistreat you—I'll provide enough money to keep you comfortable for the rest of your life."
She paused, her tone devoid of warmth. "Sign, take the money, and get out of the Neville family. Stop occupying a position that isn't yours. You're an eyesore."
Margaret's gaze shifted from Richard's face to Jennifer's wrist.
That emerald bracelet—she had seen it in the Neville family album and heard the elders speak of it.
The Neville family heirloom, passed only to recognized daughters-in-law who would continue the family bloodline.
In her five years of marriage into the Neville family, she had never even touched it, let alone worn it.
Five years of marriage, reduced to a joke.