Chapter 194
It was George and Sarah.
Sarah was wearing a cream-colored Chanel-style suit today, carrying a delicate handbag, with tasteful light makeup on her face.
As soon as she got out of the car, her eyes swept critically over the villa's exterior and courtyard, her tone carrying an undisguised sense of superiority and pickiness, "My uncle said the scenery here is especially nice. He consulted a fortune teller and said this villa has the best location and layout. George, let's go inside and check out the interior? If we like it..."
She didn't finish her sentence, but her intention was crystal clear.
Standing beside her, George still wore that eternally unchanging indifferent expression.
He was dressed in a well-pressed dark gray suit, standing tall and straight, his gaze calmly sweeping over us in the living room before finally landing on my hand tightly gripping my mother's. His eyes showed no emotion whatsoever.
It was as if he couldn't see the fury and humiliation blazing in my eyes, couldn't see my mother's deathly pale face. He simply picked up where Sarah left off in a tone so calm it was almost cruel, "If you like it, I'll buy it for you."
One casual sentence.
Like an ice-cold dagger, it stabbed viciously into my heart and twisted repeatedly.
Looking at that handsome face I once adored but now only felt hatred and coldness toward, I felt all the blood in my body freeze in an instant.
Was this his revenge for me hurting Sarah?
Not only was he forcing my mother into a corner, making her mortgage the company, but he also wanted to take away her last place of refuge.
And he even brought Sarah here in person, using this condescending attitude to declare his victory and trample our last shred of dignity.
When this villa was first being selected, George had offered some input.
Even during the renovation, he had casually mentioned a few details.
I always thought it was just his polite courtesy as a son-in-law.
Now looking back, perhaps he had been laying the groundwork for today even then.
He had known everything about this place all along, which is why he could so precisely bring Sarah here.
Just because I wanted to divorce him, he couldn't even be bothered with the last bit of pretense?
He couldn't wait to bare his fangs, to destroy my mother and me completely, to make room for his true love Sarah and win her smile.
What a cruel heart, what vicious procedures.
Looking at him, the corners of my mouth twisted uncontrollably into a sarcastic arc.
Sarah acted as if she had just noticed my mother and me in the living room. Her face immediately showed perfectly timed surprise and innocence, "George, is this Ms. Brown's home? Why didn't you tell me earlier? This is so wierd."
Sarah was doing this on purpose.
She wanted to use this method, in our own home, in front of our misery, to flaunt her loving relationship with George and trample my last bit of dignity.
Looking at her, the cold smile on my lips nearly froze into ice.
I couldn't be bothered with her clumsy performance. Trading barbs with someone full of schemes was meaningless.
But my mother took it to heart.
She had been supported by Echo, about to follow my advice and go upstairs to avoid this suffocating scene.
But Sarah's words were like a ladle of boiling oil poured onto the fire of guilt and pain in my mother's heart over mortgaging the house.
My mother suddenly broke free from Echo's hand and turned to shield me completely behind her.
She had just been discharged from the hospital, her body still weak, her face pale.
But in this moment, her spine was ramrod straight, her eyes filled with anger, "Whatever you want, come at me."
"Don't stand here making snide remarks to hurt my daughter."
Her gaze swept over Sarah before finally landing on George's cold face.
George merely gave my mother a brief glance, his eyes devoid of any warmth.
He didn't even raise an eyebrow, maintaining that detached attitude of indifference.
This look made my teeth ache with anger. I wanted nothing more than to rush forward and tear off his hypocritical, cold mask.
But I couldn't.
My mother was still here. I couldn't make her worry more.
I took a deep breath, suppressing the rage churning in my chest, stepped forward, gently pulled my mother back to my side, and whispered soothingly, "Mom, it's okay, don't get upset. Let me handle this."
Then I turned to Echo and signaled with my eyes, "Echo, please help my mom upstairs to rest and comfort her. Tell her I've got this."
"Okay, Ms. Brown, don't worry." Echo quickly nodded and moved to support my mother.
"I'm not leaving!" My mother stubbornly shook her head, gripping my hand tightly, her eyes full of worry and determination. "Grace, I can't leave! I need to face this with you! I need to protect you!"
Seeing the tears my mother was holding back and her determination to protect me at all costs, my heart felt both sour and soft.
I gently patted the back of her hand, trying to show her a reassuring smile, "Mom, listen to me. You staying well and taking care of your health, not making me worry about you anymore—that's the biggest help you can give me. I can handle everything else. Trust me, okay?"
My smile and words seemed to have some effect.
My mother looked at me, her lips trembling, and finally nodded, choking up, "Okay, I'll listen to you, Grace. Just... don't let yourself suffer too much."
"I know." I nodded, signaling Echo to take her upstairs.
My mother kept looking back with worried eyes as Echo helped her toward the stairs.
Just as they had climbed a few steps, Sarah's provocative voice rang out again, "Ms. Murphy, please don't misunderstand. I really didn't know you lived here."
"My uncle said the scenery around here is especially nice and specifically consulted a fortune teller who said this villa has the best layout and location."
"George just wants me and the baby to have a good place to live in the future, so he brought me to see it."
"Ms. Murphy, why don't you continue living here? I'll have my uncle help me look at other places. Of course..."
She changed her tone, her voice carrying a barely detectable mockery and certainty, "Of course, your house will eventually be taken back by the bank anyway."
"Rather than letting some stranger benefit from it, why not let me have it? What do you say? We're at least acquaintances, after all."
These words were like a red-hot branding iron, searing my mother's most sensitive nerve.
"Bitch!" My mother whirled around, trembling with rage, pointing at Sarah and finally losing control, "I'd rather give it to anyone than a shameless homewrecker like you! Don't even think about it! I'd rather smash this house to pieces than let you defile it!"
The word "homewrecker" exploded like thunder in the living room.
Sarah's face instantly turned ugly, a flash of caught-off-guard shame and venom in her eyes.
George's previously indifferent expression also suddenly turned cold, his brow furrowing almost imperceptibly.
A low pressure emanated from him as he looked darkly at my mother.
The atmosphere instantly dropped to freezing point, tense and hostile.
Tony and the others from the bank, who had originally just come to handle business, were now so embarrassed they didn't know what to do with their hands and feet.
They clearly hadn't expected to walk into such a drama of family ethics and property disputes.
Tony wiped the cold sweat from his forehead, trying to smooth things over, "Well, since you all know each other, that makes things easier to discuss. How about you handle this privately among yourselves first? Just give us a result, and we won't disturb you any further..."
He couldn't wait to escape this place of conflict.
Sarah, having been called a homewrecker in public by my mother, looked terrible.
But she quickly recovered. Instead of directly refuting my mother, she turned to George with slightly reddened eyes, "George, don't be angry. Ms. Murphy might have been misled by someone and has some misunderstandings about me."
"She's really in a difficult situation now, at her wit's end, which is why she's saying such things."
She sighed, her tone regretful, "Actually, if Ms. Murphy were willing to rely on my uncle and accept his help, life would definitely be much better than it is now, and she wouldn't be dragging Ms. Brown down."
"It's a pity Ms. Murphy doesn't agree."
She looked up at George, her eyes full of dependence and pleading, "George, this is the only way we can help Ms. Murphy. Let's buy the house, okay?"
"That way, Ms. Murphy can at least get some money to solve her immediate difficulties."
George's gaze, following Sarah's words, once again fell on me.