Chapter 37 A Gift for the Homewrecker
Henry's hands trembled uncontrollably as he held the equity transfer agreement. The questions that had plagued him for six years finally had an answer—Mirage Fashion had been transferred to Celeste, that homewrecker, long ago.
Disgrace! This was an absolute disgrace!
He couldn't afford to waste any time and immediately took the document to Emily.
"Emily, look at this..."
Emily took the agreement. As she read its contents, her blood seemed to boil instantly. She crumpled the paper in her fist, her eyes blazing with barely contained rage.
"Celeste! Simon!" The names escaped through clenched teeth, tasting like blood.
Before heading to the Johnson Villa, Emily deliberately called for three bodyguards. She knew Simon's character—this matter could never be resolved peacefully.
Half an hour later, Emily's car crashed through the ornate iron gates of the Johnson Villa like a cannonball.
When she stormed into the living room with her three burly bodyguards, Simon was feeding Celeste fruit, his arm around her shoulders.
Under the crystal chandelier, the pearl necklace around that woman's neck dazzled offensively—it had been Scarlett's jewelry.
Emily slammed the equity transfer agreement onto the coffee table, splashing tea all over Simon's suit. "Simon! My mother built Mirage Fashion with her life, and you just handed it over to your mistress?!"
Simon wiped the tea stains from his expensive suit, a cold smile curling his lips. "Emily, you've grown bold, haven't you? Mirage Fashion is in my name. I could give it to Celeste or donate it to charity; it's none of your business."
"None of my business?" Emily laughed bitterly, tears threatening to spill. "You were penniless back then. If my mother hadn't supported you, where would you be today? Her body was barely cold when you let Celeste take her place and steal her life's work—Simon, you heartless bastard!"
Celeste suddenly shrank against Simon, her eyes reddening like a rabbit's. "Emily, I know you hate me, but your father and I truly love each other."
Emily grabbed her by the hair and threw her to the floor. "True love? A homewrecker talking about true love? That's ridiculous!"
She raised her foot to step down, but Simon yanked her away.
Simon exploded with rage, leaping up from the sofa and grabbing a decorative cane from nearby. He swung it at Emily. "You've gone too far! How dare you attack your stepmother! I'll break your legs!"
Emily's eyes flashed. Her bodyguard immediately stepped forward, easily wresting the cane from Simon's grip and pinning him to the sofa.
Simon struggled but couldn't break free from the restraint. He could only roar in impotent fury. "Let go of me! Do you know who I am? You'll regret this!"
"Mr. Johnson, settle down," one of the bodyguards said coldly, increasing the pressure of his grip.
Emily took out her phone and put it on speaker. The gruff voice of a demolition contractor came through. "Ms. Johnson, the excavators are at the gate. Which part do we start with?"
"Start with the living room. Don't leave anything standing."
"You wouldn't dare!"
"What wouldn't I dare? Without my mother, would you even be living in such a nice house? Today, I'm tearing it down, and there's nothing you can do about it." Emily met Simon's gaze without flinching, the hatred in her eyes almost palpable.
Celeste clutched her chest and collapsed against Simon, crying like a wounded animal. "Simon, I'm so scared. What's happened to Emily?"
Clara and Charles arrived just as three excavators were warming up outside the villa gates.
Inside, Emily stood before Celeste and Simon like a statue forged in fire.
"Emily!" Clara rushed forward to pull her away, but Emily shook her off in disgust.
Just then, Celeste suddenly turned to Emily, sobbing, "Emily, I was wrong. Please don't demolish the house. I'll return Mirage Fashion to you, okay?"
Before she could finish, Emily's palm came down with a resounding slap.
The sharp sound froze the air around them.
"Emily! If you hate me, hit me instead! Don't hurt my mother—she's not well!" Clara screamed, lunging at Emily.
"You're one to talk," Emily spat, raising her hand to slap Clara's hypocritical face, but her wrist was caught in a firm grip.
"Enough." Charles looked at the disappointment and pain in Emily's eyes, feeling something twist painfully in his chest.
Instinctively, he wanted to spare Emily from suffering, but his reason told him he couldn't let her continue assaulting people. He could only hold her wrist tightly.
"Let go!" Emily struggled, her high heels scraping harshly against the floor.
Charles said nothing, merely gesturing behind him. Ten security personnel in black suits immediately surrounded them, forming an impenetrable wall.
Though Emily's bodyguards were skilled, they were clearly outnumbered and outmatched.
Emily looked at those expressionless security guards, at Simon's smug smirk, at Celeste peeking at her from Clara's protective embrace.
She suddenly laughed—a chilling sound like that of a wounded wolf.
She wrenched her hand from Charles's grip and straightened her disheveled collar. "Fine. Very well, Charles. Well played."
Emily knew that with Charles present, justice would not be served today. She signaled her bodyguards to release Simon, shot one last venomous glare at the trio, then looked at Charles before turning to leave with resolute finality.
Back in her car, Emily called Henry, her voice still sharp with anger but now tinged with unwavering determination. "Henry, we're leaving. Mirage Fashion has been tainted—it's not worth our loyalty anymore."
On the other end, Henry didn't hesitate. "Alright! Wherever you go, I'll follow!"
Emily hung up and started the car. The tires screeched against the pavement, as if releasing all her pent-up frustration.
After Emily left, Charles felt an invisible hand squeezing his heart. A dull pain spread through his chest, accompanied by an overwhelming sense of loss, as if something irreplaceably precious had slipped away. He felt worse than he had ever felt before.
Seeing his distress, Clara hurried forward, her eyes brimming with tears as she tugged at his sleeve. "Charles, I'm so scared. Emily, she..."
But Charles was too distracted and agitated. He yanked his arm away. "I have things to do. I need to go."
With that, he strode out, showing no intention of staying to comfort Clara.
Clara stood frozen, the mask of vulnerability momentarily slipping from her face, revealing glimpses of shock and malice in her eyes.
Emily drove until she noticed Charles's car following closely behind in her rearview mirror. She snorted derisively—what did this man want now?
She deliberately stopped at the seaside, turned off the engine, and quietly waited for Charles to appear.
Charles's car soon pulled up. He got out and walked to Emily's side. They stood together by the sea, the salty breeze washing over them, tousling their hair.
"Did you come after me to defend Clara?" Emily spoke first, her tone icy as she stared at the churning waves, refusing to look at Charles.