Chapter 19
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Yolanda’s mind was still drifting when May called, “Got the test results yet? Yolanda, don’t drag this out. Even if you hide the pregnancy. you’ll have to get rid of it eventually.”
Yolanda winced, biting back her irritation. “I’m going now. But relax–I’m not pregnant. Charles isn’t exactly great in bed, y’know? Maybe he’s the issue. And you and Dylan are still young–you could have another son.”
“You” May sputtered, livid. This woman must be out of her mind–how dare she talk like that? she thought.
After hanging up, Yolanda felt a twinge of regret. May was petty and had always disliked her. Pushing back would only make things
worse.
Sure enough, when Yolanda pulled into the hospital parking lot, Linda was already there waiting.
The Sinclair family had money in this hospital–not as big as the one where Megan stayed, but perfect for those hush–hush affairs within wealthy circles. Anyone in the know who wanted a discreet medical check would come here. The staff kept their mouths shut tight.
Yolanda could only get tested here to put the Sinclairs at ease. But she hadn’t expected Linda to show up.
After getting out of the car. Yolanda slowly approached and called out respectfully, “Mom.”
Linda only wore an emerald bracelet, standing straight with an air of pure elegance. “Go get tested. I’ll wait in the car. Come back with me afterward.”
Yolanda dropped her gaze, swallowed every question, and walked straight to the hospital.
Thirty minutes later, the results came back: not pregnant. She didn’t need to send the report to Charles; the hospital would handle that.
She clutched the report and followed Linda into the car, with her own vehicle driven back by Linda’s staff.
During the entire ride, Linda said nothing.
Yolanda kept her head down, the test slip crumpled in her fist.
After a while, the car stopped at the Grant residence. Just as Yolanda squatted by the entryway to change her shoes, a slap suddenly landed.
She was knocked sideways; her forehead brushed the cabinet and her cheek flared hot, swelling fast.
The servants there had grown used to such scenes, silently continuing their work.
Linda, who had just delivered the slap, sauntered over to the sofa and sat down.
A servant quickly brought her a cup of coffee and set it on the side table.
Linda picked up the cup and took a delicate sip, her every movement still graceful and refined.
Yolanda had feared Linda the most–she was the one who always raised her hand first.
Still stinging from the slap, Yolanda slipped on her shoes and walk over to the sofa.
Before she could sit, Linda shot her a cold, piercing look. “Stay right there.”
Yolanda froze, standing still with her back rigid as a board.
She knew May had to be the one flapping her gums again. May was that mean–anytime she got mad, she made sure the person who ticked her off paid for it.
Linda set down the coffee cup with a clink, her voice sharp. “Badmouthing your husband to his mother, huh? Is that what we taught you?”
Yolanda pressed her lips together, saying nothing. She’d learned Linda’s rules since childhood. Talking back to May like that was enough to earn her three days locked in the punishment room.
Linda smoothed a strand of hair and sighed. “You’ve been in the Sinclair family two years. Since it’s your first slip–up, stand there till morning. No dinner tonight.”
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Chapter 19
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Yolanda stayed silent. Arguing now would only make it worse. The Grants had adopted her for one reason: to seal the marriage alliance. Defying her mother–in–law was completely off–limits.
Anger coiled in Yolanda’s chest, hot and tight, stinging her eyes till tears threatened.
She’d followed the Grant family rules perfectly: been faithful to Charles and played the perfect housewife. And then she’d walked in on his affair, humiliated, stripped of every scrap of dignity.
“I heard from the Sinclairs you’re going to work?” Linda asked. Her tone was hard, like she was determined to crush Yolanda’s last bit of pride.
Yolanda tried to explain. “Mom, I…”
Before she could finish, Linda hurled her coffee cup over. It cracked against her forehead and left a burning red welt.
“When you married Charles, I told you your only job was to take care of him,” Linda snapped. “He nearly passed out at work this morning from low blood sugar. Didn’t you know?”
Yolanda’s lashes fluttered. She really hadn’t known. Last night, she’d slept in a separate room from Charles. This morning, after dealing with May, she’d gone straight to sign Ian’s contract.
She finally understood why May’s words stung today–Charles had woken up with low blood sugar. Anytime something happened to him, both the Sinclairs and Grants would jump to blame her for “not caring enough.”
Yolanda thought it was ridiculous. She’d looked after Charles all these years, and he worked out regularly–how’d he suddenly get low blood sugar?
It was a plain power play–a brutal reminder that she was nothing without him. The elders from both families could force her to bend.
Typical Charles–he doesn’t even have to lift a finger, and I’m already falling apart, Yolanda thought bitterly.
Linda opened her mouth for round two when the front door swung wide.
Samuel walked in wearing a custom charcoal suit. At twenty–seven, he was already a rising star in Beloris’s elite circles.
Linda’s face instantly brightened. She turned to Yolanda and whispered, “Go stand in the yard. Stay out of the way.”
Samuel handed his coat to a nearby servant. His gaze drifted up, caught the red mark on Yolanda’s cheek, and his brows furrowed slightly.
Linda beamed, “Back early today?”
Samuel was composed, serious, and rarely smiled–just like Linda. In his presence, Yolanda always stayed silent, too intimidated to speak.
He was making waves these days. Everyone knew how sharp he was–steady yet decisive, like a sharp blade quietly sheathed. He was completely different from Charles, who always masked his ruthlessness with a smile and cool demeanor.
Samuel ignored Linda and headed for the stairs. Over his shoulder, he said, “She’s a person, Mom. Lay off the slapping.”
Linda would tear into Yolanda just like beating a dog. Behind closed doors, she never showed an ounce of mercy.
Upon hearing Samuel’s words, Linda smiled, her eyes sliding to the figure standing in the yard. “If she messes up, she pays. She needs to remember–her only shot is Charles.
“You’re tied tight to the Sinclairs now. Don’t blow this. Samuel, we took her in for one reason: to be a pawn in our marriage alliance, nothing more.”
Yolanda stood in the yard, too far away to hear their conversation. She watched Samuel glance in her direction before climbing the stairs without a word.
Five hours later, the doorbell suddenly rang.
Charles walked in, sliding open the floor–to–ceiling doors, and stopped in front of Yolanda. “You were out late. I knew I’d find you here,” he said with a smile, extending his hand to help her up.
Back in the day, Yolanda would’ve broken down in tears. But now, her head was clear–she saw right through his little game. He could have shown up hours earlier, but he’d left her waiting for five brutal hours.
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Chapter 19
She ignored his outstretched hand and walked right past him into the living room.
Charles raised an eyebrow and then slipped an arm around her waist. “Upset? Mad at me?”
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Yolanda stayed silent, limping forward. Her ankle still wasn’t right, and after standing for hours, her legs were stiff–she could barely stay
on her feet.
Charles stood there, watching the stubborn line of her back. She looked like a weed pushing through concrete–bent by the wind, maybe, but never broken.
Back in school, she used to cry while doing homework late at night, determined to reclaim her top spot. She always had to be the best, or she couldn’t rest.
Charles chuckled softly, stepped closer, and slid his arm around her waist again. “Sometimes, messing with her can be pretty fun,” he thought, a little smirk playing on his lips.
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