Chapter 158
George had been keeping Violet in the dark about me moving out of the Smith Villa with Milly. He must have also strictly warned the staff not to gossip.
I'd assumed Violet was completely clueless, and might even tacitly approve or support Sarah's entry into the household, perhaps out of favoritism toward her grandson.
After all, in the eyes of many wealthy family elders, family background and capability might matter more than the feelings of the original wife.
But now, hearing Violet question George so directly and sternly, I felt an unexpected wave of emotion.
Turns out, Violet wasn't completely ignorant, nor was she entirely on George's side as I'd imagined.
Perhaps she'd heard some rumors, or noticed something was off from Milly and me not returning to the Smith Villa for so long, combined with fragments of gossip from the servants.
This made my feelings toward Violet even more complicated.
I held my breath and kept listening.
Facing Violet's questioning, George's response was cold and fake, with a dismissive casualness, "Grandma, Sarah moving into the house—Grace agreed to it herself. She didn't say anything at the time. Don't believe those messy rumors from outside. The two of them get along just fine."
Hearing this, I almost laughed out of anger.
Which eye did he use to see that Sarah and I got along well?
Was it when Sarah kept showing off and making snide remarks in front of me?
When she allowed Jack to speak rudely to me, even nearly injuring me with an arrow?
Or when George kept leaving me behind to be with her, taking it for granted that he could dump his problems on me?
This is getting along well?
Violet was clearly infuriated by this excuse too. She let out a cold laugh, her voice carrying unprecedented sharpness and disappointment, "George, all you care about is your business, obsessing over completely legitimizing Triple Grove Clan and bringing it ashore. So both your eyes and your heart are covered in dust, aren't they? You can't see how much Grace has suffered!"
Her voice suddenly rose, filled with anguish, "I can see clear as day how much Grace cares about you, even as an elder. Why do you think she's been putting up with it all? I'm a woman, I've lived this long—don't I understand? There's not a woman in this world who would genuinely become friends with her rival."
Violet's words hit my heart like a hammer, stirring up a bitter ache.
"Grace is thoughtful and considerate. In front of me, she only shares good news, never bad. She only talks about how well work is going, how well-behaved and sensible Milly is. She never mentions anything between you two as a couple, never talks about what she's suffered. But just because she doesn't say it doesn't mean it's not happening, doesn't mean she deserves to endure this pain."
The hospital room fell into a brief silence.
I quietly pushed the door open just a crack, and through the gap, I could see a corner of the hospital bed.
George was indeed leaning against the headboard, wearing a hospital gown, his complexion paler than usual, but that cold, distant air about him hadn't diminished at all.
At this moment, his brows were tightly furrowed, his thin lips pressed into a displeased line.
Sure enough, hearing Violet call Sarah his "rival," he was unhappy.
In his heart, Sarah was probably pure and flawless, a treasure that needed careful protection—how could she be given such an unseemly label?
After a moment, George's voice sounded again, his tone still flat but carrying an undeniable defensiveness, "Grandma, this is between Grace and me. If she really felt uncomfortable about something, she could have told me directly. There's no need to say things in front of you that worry you unnecessarily."
He was still pointing the finger at me, as if I'd been gossiping to Violet, stirring up trouble.
Violet was so angry her voice trembled, "Grace didn't—she never said a bad word about you two in front of me, not once. On the contrary, I saw it with my own eyes. I'm not blind."
She took a breath, her voice carrying deep exhaustion and persistence, "George, I'm telling you, Grace is your lawfully wedded wife, the woman who bore your child and managed your household for six years. You need to do right by her, do right by your conscience."
George seemed somewhat irritated by Violet's relentless questioning.
He laughed lightly, but there was no warmth in that laugh—only sarcasm, "Grandma, I know she's my wife, but you can't just force all the blame onto Sarah just because Grace is your granddaughter-in-law, can you?"
His voice grew colder, "Sarah hasn't done anything wrong. She just needed help, and I, as a friend, lent a hand. How did she become a rival in your mouth, become the villain who destroys other people's families? Is that fair?"
He paused, his tone even taking on a self-righteous quality, as if he'd granted me some enormous favor, "And Grace—didn't I already let her go out to work? She wanted to go to Star Tech, I agreed."
"With Jack, I'm not forcing her to take care of him anymore either. She wanted freedom, I gave it to her."
"She wanted money—the allowance and cards that Mrs. Smith should have, I've never withheld."
"The title of Mrs. Smith has always been firmly on her head. What else is she dissatisfied with? She shouldn't be suffering, should she?"
Listening to George's grand speech, I slowly lowered my eyes outside the door, the corners of my mouth curving into an extremely cold, mocking arc.
See, this is what fairness and favor look like in George's eyes.
In his mind, allowing me to work, no longer forcing me to care for his and Sarah's son, continuing to give me money and an empty title—this was already tremendous generosity.
As for my feelings, my dignity, whether Milly and I felt comfortable and safe in this house? Whether we were respected and loved?
These things weren't within his consideration.
Or rather, he felt that by giving me those material things and superficial freedom, I should be grateful, stay in my place, even turn a blind eye to his intimacy with Sarah, and continue playing the role of the virtuous and magnanimous Mrs. Smith.
What absurd and pathetic logic.
Inside the room, Violet fell silent after hearing George's speech.
After a long while, she finally let out a long sigh, that sigh filled with helplessness and deep worry, "George, I don't know exactly what happened between you and Grace. But I know Grace is definitely not the kind of vain, immature woman your father describes, who only knows how to make a fuss."
She looked at George, her eyes holding one last glimmer of hope and pleading, "You two need to work things out. The most important thing between husband and wife is mutual understanding and respect. Don't wait until you've lost it to feel regret."
George seemed unwilling to continue this topic. He responded perfunctorily, his tone returning to that businesslike flatness, "She's fine, don't worry. Yesterday at the archery range, I checked—she wasn't hurt."
He deliberately emphasized this, as if it was complete proof that he'd fulfilled his duties as a husband.
After saying this, he stopped paying attention to Violet, picked up the laptop from the bedside table, opened it, and started handling work and video conferences, adopting an attitude that this matter was now closed.
Violet watched him being so impervious, and sighed heavily again, her face showing undisguised disappointment and exhaustion.
She took out her phone, seeming to want to make a call, probably to me.
Standing outside the door, I didn't keep listening, nor did I intend to push the door open and go in.
George's attitude was already crystal clear.
There was no need for any confrontation between Violet and me in front of George.
I slowly stepped back two paces, turned around, and left the hospital room door silently, walking toward the elevator.