Chapter 129

Chapter 129
Sheryl's POV

"An accident?" I raised an eyebrow. "That's the official story, isn't it? But I'm curious about what you said to her before it happened."

A bead of sweat trickled down her temple. "I... I don't remember. It was so long ago..."

"Really?" I tilted my head, my gaze sharp as a hawk's. "Because sometimes, when I close my eyes, I can still hear her crying. Right here in this house, just hours before she... left us. And strangely enough, I hear another voice too."

Christine's face drained of color. "Enough, Sheryl!"

"Perhaps you're right," I said, suddenly switching to a lighter tone as I turned to leave. "Maybe some things are better left forgotten. But you know what my mother always said? The truth is like an undercurrent—sooner or later, it always surfaces."

At the doorway, I paused to look back at her one last time. "Goodnight, Christine. Sleep well... if the nightmares allow."

Walking back to my car, I felt an odd sense of satisfaction. From the panic on Christine's face, I knew the seed of fear had been planted. Sometimes terror is more effective than any direct threat—especially the kind that grows from within.

Whatever it took, I would reclaim my mother's legacy. This wasn't just about money or assets. This was about justice for the woman who had been wronged so completely that she saw no other escape.

And I was just getting started.

I drove back home and slammed the front door of our mansion harder than necessary. The sound echoed through the marble foyer, matching my thundering heart. My phone buzzed with a text from Rhett:

Going to see Grandpa at the old estate. Will be home later tonight.

Perfect timing. I needed space to think without his piercing eyes analyzing my every expression. The confrontation with Christine still burned fresh in my mind.

I tossed my handbag onto the couch and headed straight for the master bathroom. A hot bath was exactly what I needed. As the water filled the oversized marble tub, I poured in lavender bath salts and watched them dissolve—just like my patience for my so-called family.

Sinking into the steaming water, I tilted my head back against the bath pillow. The heat penetrated my tense muscles, but did nothing to calm the storm brewing inside me.

"Robert and Christine," I muttered to the empty bathroom, my voice echoing slightly off the tiles. "You're going to pay for this."

I ran my fingers through the water, watching ripples spread across the surface. That's what I needed to do first—create ripples in their perfect little world.

The question wasn't if I would get revenge—it was how.

I closed my eyes and began plotting. To reclaim everything that belonged to my mother and me, I needed to start with Robert. I would have to play the part of the dutiful daughter, lull him into a false sense of security, then find the perfect moment to take his place.

Rhett's POV

"It's rare to have you back here sharing a meal with your old grandfather," Nicholas said, settling into his chair at the head of the long mahogany dining table. I sat beside him, swirling red wine in my glass, more relaxed than during my last visit for his birthday celebration.

I offered him a small smile. "You've always complained about having too many people around the estate, Grandfather. I've removed some of the security personnel, so it should be quieter for you now."

"You think I'm going senile?" Nicholas huffed, his cloudy but shrewd eyes studying me. "True, you pulled back some of the guards, but replaced them with several robust-looking strangers. Mercenaries, aren't they?"

I took a sip of wine, my white shirt unbuttoned at the collar beneath my black suit, projecting casual indifference. "Nothing gets past you, does it?"

"I'm old, not stupid," he retorted. "I was dealing with these people when your father was still asking your grandmother for candy."

At the mention of my father, silence fell between us. The weight of his absence still heavy after all these years.

Nicholas lowered his gaze with a sigh. "I've never done anything truly terrible in my life, yet God took your father anyway."

I stared into my wine, my expression darkening, saying nothing.

"You're nothing like your father," Nicholas continued. "He was gentle, always leaving people a way out. In the cutthroat business world, he was perhaps too kind." His gaze settled on me. "You're his opposite—stubborn, flamboyant. When we sent you to Italy, we hoped you'd return with some scholarly refinement."

"Instead?" I prompted, knowing where this was going.

Nicholas laughed without humor. "You came back with extraordinary skills and the instincts of a wolf."

I set down my glass, offering him a thin smile. "Grandpa, you invited me to dinner, and the food's getting cold."

"I know you hate these conversations, but they need saying." Nicholas leaned forward. "Rhett, even if you did nothing but live as a playboy, you couldn't spend the Hayes fortune. In my youth, I was determined to expand our family business nationally, globally even. But after living so long, especially after watching your father die before me, I've learned that material things mean nothing. Health and simply being alive—that's what matters. Living on the edge isn't worth it."

His eyes softened with genuine concern. "Nothing is more important to me than you. I don't ask for much—just that you value your life. At the very least," he shook his head with a deep sigh, "don't make this old man bury another young one."

I met his gaze, something flickering in my eyes. "I'll be careful, Grandfather."

Some things, however, I had no choice but to do. If I didn't act, others wouldn't simply leave me alone—they'd come after everyone I cared about. Rather than waiting to be crushed, I preferred to strike first.