Chapter 184

Chapter 184

Gloria's words hit the room like a stone, and everything went still.

Marlowe didn't sense anything wrong. She just assumed Gloria was scared.

She pushed herself up from the sofa, one hand on the armrest, straightening her back, lifting her chin, her voice carrying that familiar air of superiority.

"Gloria, if you know these photos could be misunderstood, then you should watch yourself."

"As a daughter-in-law of the Tudor Family, everything you say and do reflects on this family. Getting that close to those men — Henry's not the only one who'd have something to say about it. I can't turn a blind eye either."

She paused. "You owe Henry and the Tudor Family an explanation."

Gloria stood on the other side of the coffee table, the stack of photos still in her hands, head down, saying nothing.

Marlowe saw that and felt a surge of satisfaction. She was about to press harder.

"Mrs. Tudor!"

Bianca cut in, her voice sharp and urgent, startling Marlowe.

Marlowe spun around, brow furrowed, staring at Bianca with clear irritation.

"What is wrong with you, making a scene like that."

Bianca's face had gone paper white, even her lips drained of color.

She clenched her fists so tight her knuckles turned pale. Cold sweat had soaked through her shirt, and her eyes were locked on Gloria's — those calm, almost indifferent eyes.

The others couldn't see it, but Bianca could.

There was no panic in Gloria's eyes. Only the quiet ease of a hunter watching prey walk straight into a trap.

She was waiting for Bianca to choose.

Bianca's throat tightened. The cold sweat kept coming, layer after layer.

"Mrs. Tudor, just let it go."

She stepped forward, almost pressing against Marlowe's side, her voice trembling so badly only the two of them could hear.

"This might all be a misunderstanding. Gloria and Mr. Wipere were probably just talking business. The photographer probably just got a bad angle. Blowing this up won't do the Tudor Family any good."

Marlowe froze. She stared at Bianca like she was looking at a stranger.

"What did you just say? Bianca, what are you thinking? These photos are —"

"Mrs. Tudor!"

Bianca practically shouted it, panic breaking through her voice.

She was desperately signaling Marlowe with her eyes, nearly bulging out of her head, her lips moving in silence, mouthing a few wordless words.

Marlowe couldn't make them out, but she could see the fear in Bianca's eyes. Plain and real.

Marlowe opened her mouth, and swallowed whatever she was about to say. Her face darkened, her chest heaving with the effort of holding it in.

"Mom, Bianca's right. Making this bigger won't be good for the Tudor Family."

Henry's voice came from behind. His gaze moved slowly across Marlowe's face, then to Bianca's, then settled on Gloria.

Gloria stood quietly, eyes slightly downcast, her long lashes shading whatever was going on underneath. Only the faint redness at the corners of her eyes showed — making her look hurt, and stubborn about it.

Something inside Henry clenched hard.

He thought about the years since Gloria had married into the Tudor Family. Marlowe had never once let up on her.

He used to tell himself it was nothing. That Marlowe just had a sharp temper. That Gloria was too sensitive.

But what happened today couldn't be explained away by a sharp temper.

Marlowe had been trying to destroy Gloria.

"I'll have someone take care of these photos. This ends here. If anyone tries to use these photos against her, don't expect me to stay quiet."

His eyes stayed on Marlowe the whole time he said it.

Marlowe felt a chill run down her spine under his gaze. Her lips trembled twice. She didn't dare say another word.

"Henry's right. Let's just put this behind us."

Bianca jumped in immediately, plastering on a stiff smile, her voice going soft and sticky.

"Gloria, I'm so sorry. I got carried away. I saw those photos and jumped to conclusions. I really don't know when to keep my mouth shut. Please don't hold it against me."

She stepped forward and gave Gloria a slight bow, making herself small.

Gloria finally looked up.

She looked at Bianca's face, painted over with that fake smile, and let the corner of her mouth curve up — barely a smile, just a slight arc. But it made Bianca's skin crawl.

"It's fine. I know you care about Henry and the Tudor Family. I won't take it to heart."

As she said it, she held out the photos to Bianca.

"Could you take care of these for me? It's hard for me to look at them."

Bianca blinked, and reached out without thinking.

The moment her fingertips touched the edge of the photos, Gloria leaned in close to her ear. Her voice was soft as a feather, but it carried a cold that cut right through.

"Why do you keep doing stupid things that are way out of your league? Do you really think Henry still trusts you?"

The color drained from Bianca's face instantly. Her fingers began to shake, and the photos slipped from her hand, scattering across the floor.

"Bianca, are you okay? Are you feeling sick?"

Gloria crouched down with a look of concern, her voice hesitant, like she was trying to cover for her.

Henry was already fed up with Bianca. This just made it worse.

"No need for a doctor. She's fine, just worn out. She should go rest."

Right then, the nanny's voice came from upstairs.

"The baby won't stop crying. I can't get him to calm down. Please come up and take a look."

Bianca spun around the moment she heard it and bolted up the stairs.

At the turn of the landing, she stopped for just a second and looked back.

Gloria was still standing where she had been, smiling at her.

The smile was warm and graceful, nothing anyone could fault. But to Bianca, it felt like a blade, slowly working its way into her chest.

She shuddered, moved faster, stumbled on the landing, and barely caught herself against the wall.

Marlowe stood where she was, face dark, chest still heaving.

She looked at the spot where Bianca had disappeared, then at Henry, then at Gloria. Her lips trembled for a long moment before she finally pushed the words out.

"Fine. I pour everything into keeping this family together, and this is what I get. The two of you ganging up on me."

"Mom, please don't."

"Why shouldn't I? I'm your mother!"

"You are. That's exactly why I don't want to fight with you."

Henry took a slow breath, like he was working to keep something down.

"But what you did today went too far."

Marlowe's face flushed red.

"I went too far? Everything I do, I do for you. For the Tudor Family. And look at you — so wrapped up in this woman you won't even listen to your own mother anymore!"

"Enough."

Henry's voice finally went cold.

He looked at Marlowe, and in his eyes there was something that could only be called tired and disappointed.

"If those photos had actually gotten out, who would have been embarrassed? Just Gloria? No. Me. Your own son. And the entire Tudor Family. Did you even think about that?"

Marlowe opened her mouth to argue, and found she couldn't get a single complete sentence out.

"You spent months in Vesperia. I thought maybe you'd had time to think things over. Looks like I was hoping for too much."

Henry's voice was quiet. So quiet it unsettled Marlowe in a way she couldn't name.

"If this is how it's going to be, maybe you should go back to Vesperia. Rest. It's peaceful there. No one to bother you."