Chapter 478 Sarah: Whoever Hurts My Son, I Want Her Dead 2
Sarah blushed at Oliver's words.
Every time he was done with her, her legs would be so weak she could barely stand. Even now that she was pregnant, he always managed to leave her unable to get out of bed.
Sarah tried her best to look calm. She picked up a book and pretended to read. "Keep your 'thanks' to yourself!" she said dismissively.
Her delicate demeanor was irresistible. Though he had no intention of making love, he couldn't help pulling her into his arms, coaxing her to reveal her plan.
Sarah nestled against him, her black silk nightgown hanging loosely from her slender shoulders, exposing her porcelain skin, smooth and luminous
She caressed his handsome face and whispered her strategy.
Oliver was captivated, barely able to resist the urge to make love to her right then and there.
After considering her plan, he spoke with conviction, "Go ahead and set your trap. With me backing you, nothing can go wrong. I'll be there when you need me."
Three days later, the Hawthorne family hosted a gala in Evergreen City. Though not the most powerful family, they had influential connections that commanded respect even from someone like Matthew Moore.
The Moore family attended in full force to show their respect—everyone except Nicholas.
By eight o'clock, the Hawthorne Mansion was alive with celebration. Violin music filled the air as the elite danced gracefully across the floor.
Matthew, despite his prominent status, found himself struggling to gain the Hawthornes' support regarding Nicholas's situation. His subtle inquiries were met with ambiguous responses.
The sound of a car arriving broke through the evening air. Matthew narrowed his eyes—who would dare arrive late to a Hawthorne gathering?
Oliver entered with Sarah on his arm.
The Moore family froze at their appearance. Oliver had clearly established connections with the Hawthornes, yet he'd arrived a full thirty minutes late—a bold statement of his own importance.
Surprisingly, Thaddeus Hawthorne's wife Isolde showed no irritation. Instead, she rushed forward to greet Sarah warmly, "I've prepared your favorite rose tea. You must have some—it's calming and good for the baby."
Their friendship was evident to everyone.
Hestia dug her nails into her palms, unable to accept that Sarah outranked her socially. Noticing Sarah had arrived empty-handed, she remarked snidely, "Surely you haven't come without a gift? How thoughtless, Mrs. Windsor."
Sarah merely smiled.
Moments later, Windsor family servants entered carrying a gift—a small royal seal once used by a king.
Isolde was ecstatic. "How did you know I've been searching for one? I've looked for months without finding anything of this quality. Thank you, Sarah!"
"I came across it by chance," Sarah replied modestly.
While Isolde admired her gift, Hestia's face contorted with jealousy.
"Gifts should speak to the recipient's heart," Sarah continued pleasantly. "I heard Mrs. Moore adores pearls, so I had these exquisite pearl earrings specially made for her."
With a gesture from Sarah, a servant presented the gift. The earrings featured unusually thick silver posts—almost as thick as knitting needles—that would surely draw blood if forced through an earlobe.
Sarah moved to place them on Hestia herself.
Hestia recoiled.
"Sarah is your elder," Isolde remarked casually while examining her royal seal. "Refusing a gift from an elder? Your arrogance is showing, Hestia."
"You're all ganging up on me!" Hestia protested.
"Silence!" Matthew commanded quietly.
He understood the situation: Isolde had clearly aligned with Oliver, but Matthew couldn't afford to offend the Hawthornes while Nicholas's fate hung in the balance.
"Father!" Hestia pleaded.
Matthew's eyes remained cold.
Hestia fell silent and sat still as Sarah fastened the massive earrings onto her ears.
Blood trickled down from her earlobes, the pain more excruciating than childbirth.
Hestia swayed, crying out in agony before the assembled guests.
Sarah looked down at her coldly. "Now you know what real pain feels like, Mrs. Moore. Let me make something perfectly clear: whoever threatens my children pays with their life."
Hatred blazed in Hestia's eyes. She had always been proud, never before suffering such humiliation, especially at a gathering of the elite. The Moore family's dignity was being trampled before everyone.
"That's enough," Matthew finally said.
Oliver laughed coldly. "The ones who should know when to stop are you Moores. Matthew, what terrible deeds have you committed to deserve such karma—generations of your family struck with terminal illness?"
As a medical report fluttered down before Isabella, analysis of bone marrow samples from Matthew and Nicholas confirmed their compatibility, making transplantation a viable treatment option.
Isabella read it several times, looking at her respected elder in shock.
Her voice trembled, "Father, you and Nicholas were compatible all along? Why did you hide this from us?"
She broke down. "You've caused Vaughn and me such pain! What's real anymore? Your love for Nicholas? Your affection for Verity and Isaac? Can we still believe in you? You protected yourself while your own grandson nearly died."
Matthew's expression darkened.
His secret, buried for years, had finally been exposed.
How could Oliver have possibly discovered this?