Chapter 178
Listening to Tom's shameless, twisted words, I didn't lose my cool in anger. Instead, I felt an absurd sense of ridiculousness.
He wanted to swallow up the company my mom had worked so hard to build over the years, using the grand excuse of technology sharing to pave the way for him and his niece's interests at Star Tech's expense, and then had the nerve to put on this fake "I'm helping you" face.
Absolutely disgusting.
I laughed out loud with contempt, my eyes full of undisguised scorn, "Tom, what kind of family values does the Wilson family have to raise disgusting people like you?"
My voice wasn't loud, but every word cut like a knife, "The women just know how to steal other people's husbands, being a homewrecker like it's something to be proud of."
"The men just know how to steal other people's businesses, swallow up their hard work, and still think they're being charitable."
I tilted my head slightly, asking the cruelest question in an almost innocent, puzzled tone, "Don't tell me the Wilson family ancestors were thieves? Is this habit of resenting others' success and taking what belongs to them hereditary?"
"Grace!" Tom's face instantly darkened. That fake smile completely disappeared, replaced by the rage and viciousness of someone whose sore spot had been hit.
He stepped closer, his voice squeezing through clenched teeth with naked threat, "Don't refuse a toast only to be forced to drink a forfeit! You think I really care about helping you? If it weren't for your parents' pitiful sake, would I waste another word on an ungrateful woman like you?"
He looked me up and down, his eyes overflowing with contempt and disgust, "Now I finally understand why George doesn't like you and chose my niece Sarah instead."
He seemed to have found the perfect angle to attack me, his tone sharp and cutting, "Because you don't know how to be flexible at all. Rigid! Stubborn! And not smart enough!"
"No sense of timing whatsoever. A woman like you, besides doing housework and taking care of kids, what else are you good for?"
"No wonder you can't keep a man's heart. You deserve to be dumped!"
Hearing these words, I just felt waves of coldness in my heart—not sadness, but deep irony.
How is it that in these people's eyes, everything I do is ultimately just to win back George's heart?
I refuse to give in to their schemes, so I don't know how to be flexible.
I protect my family and career, so I have no sense of timing.
Sarah gets ahead by stealing someone's husband and living off others' resources, and that makes her smart and capable.
Do I need to compare myself to Sarah?
From start to finish, I, Grace, and she, Sarah, are not from the same world or living the same kind of life.
She chose to depend on men, to steal other people's things to prove her worth.
And I chose to rely on myself, to protect what belongs to me and my family.
I don't even care to compare myself to her.
I looked coldly at the furious Tom, "Of course I can't compare to Sarah."
Hearing this, Tom thought I was finally giving in, and a smug expression started to appear on his face.
But I added, word by word, clearly, "Because I would never deliberately be a homewrecker. I, Grace, in this life, the next life, will never learn such a low skill."
"You!" Tom was completely enraged by my words. The muscles on his face twitched as he pointed at my nose, laughing in extreme anger, "You have the nerve to talk about others? How are you any better? Aren't you also not divorced from George yet, fooling around with that William guy? Think everyone's blind?"
He acted like he'd caught some incredible dirt on me, his tone increasingly vicious, "Besides, if my Sarah wasn't smart, capable, and resourceful, why would George like her so much? Why would he willingly give her so many resources and money to use? He'd rather let her play with it than give his legitimate wife a single penny!"
He got more excited as he talked, as if all this proved Sarah's abilities while my failure was entirely my own fault, "Shouldn't you reflect on yourself? You're useless, can't keep a man's heart, can't hold onto your own things!"
"And your mom, just like you, no real ability, no background—what business does she have starting a company?"
"And what happened? That crappy company nearly fell apart with just a little push from us, and now you're blaming us for suppressing you? What a joke!"
"I think you should just give up. Once your mom completely divorces that gambling addict, have her marry me. From now on, you can call me Dad."
He puffed out his greasy belly, his face showing a nauseating smugness, "Don't worry, as long as your mom's with me, I guarantee you two will never worry about food, clothes, or housing for the rest of your lives. How about that? This plan is way more practical than your ridiculous transformation plan, right?"
Disgusting!
Shameless!
Vile!
The anger in my chest could no longer be suppressed. I spat at his revolting face without mercy, "Are you worthy? Tom, why don't you look in the mirror? Delusional fantasies? You think you're worthy of my mom?"
Tom had probably never been cursed and rejected to his face like this, especially by a woman he considered worthless.
The smugness and scheming on his face completely twisted into rage.
"Bitch! You dare curse at me?" He roared, his mind clouded by anger, raising his hand to slap me hard across the face!
In that instant, I could even hear the wind from his swinging arm.
There were quite a few hospital patients and family members coming and going around us. Some had already noticed our conflict and were casting curious or shocked glances our way.
I didn't dodge. I just raised my head, meeting his descending palm with a cold, sharp gaze.
My voice wasn't loud, but it carried an absolute determination and intimidation, "Tom, if you dare to land this slap," my voice suddenly turned harsh, "I'll make you and the entire Wilson family completely disgraced and notorious!"
My gaze swept over the growing crowd of onlookers, meaningfully, "There are plenty of eyes watching here. The great Mr. Wilson, hitting a woman at the hospital entrance?"
Tom's hand froze in mid-air.
The muscles on his face twitched violently, his eyes full of rage and struggle.
He clearly wanted to land that slap hard to vent his hatred.
But in the end, his deep-seated concern for his public image overcame his impulse.
Gritting his teeth, extremely reluctantly, he slowly lowered his hand. But his mouth became even more poisonous, cursing viciously, "Cheap woman! Stinking bitch! Don't know what's good for you!"
He pointed at my nose, spitting as he talked, "Aren't you just a dog? Licking George and won't let go. You've already moved out with that little bastard daughter of yours, but you're still shamelessly dragging your feet on the divorce. Isn't it because you're after George's money and can't bear to give up the title of Mrs. Smith?"
His foul language became increasingly unbearable, as if he wanted to dump every vicious word he could think of on me.
I clenched my fists, nails digging deep into my palms, forcing myself to stay calm.