Chapter 4 Do You Even Have A Conscience

From her position on the second floor, Chelsey listened in silence while a bitter smile tugged at her lips. A friend? After seven years of marriage and countless shared nights, that was all she amounted to in Brett's words.

Although she had already decided to walk away, a sharp ache still settled deep in her chest.

Below, an oppressive stillness filled the living room.

Disbelief flashed across Gretchen's face as she stared at Brett, before her eyes shifted to Lydia standing beside him.

Standing there, Lydia lightly pressed her teeth against her lower lip, looking conflicted and embarrassed.

With her emotions surging, Gretchen raised a trembling hand and pointed at Brett. "When did the two of you start this? What do you think my daughter is to you? Do you believe you can announce a wedding whenever you please and cancel it just as easily? And now you expect us to accept you being with her?"

Her finger swung toward Lydia, shaking with fury. "Lydia, since you came back from overseas six months ago, has the Holden family ever wronged you? Is this how you repay our kindness? Have you given even a single thought to Chelsey? She treated you like a sister, shared her connections and resources with you, and this is what you give her in return? Where is your conscience? After all the education you received, do you truly not understand the most basic principles of being human? Tell me!"

Watching from above, Chelsey's brows knit together tightly. Never before had she seen her mother so enraged or so completely unrestrained by her emotions.

To her, Gretchen had always been the picture of elegance and restraint, a woman who spoke gently and never raised her voice, much less hurled such sharp words.

What unfolded now made it obvious that Gretchen was genuinely wounded and furious.

With a steady breath, Chelsey turned to the servant behind her and said, "Take me downstairs."

Down in the living room, tears welled in Lydia's eyes. She looked toward Gretchen. "Mrs. Holden, I'm sorry. I never meant to destroy Chelsey's relationship. But when it comes to matters of the heart, I truly couldn't stop myself."

Brett moved to shield Lydia, placing himself in front of her. "Mrs. Holden, none of this is Lydia's fault. I was the one who fell for her and pursued her."

A cold snort escaped Gretchen as she turned toward her husband, who had remained silent until now. "Jorge, you're the head of this family. What do you intend to do about this?"

An awkward yet polished smile appeared on Jorge's face, notably absent of any anger.

After clearing his throat, he attempted to smooth things over. "Gretchen, try not to lose your temper. Let's discuss this calmly."

He turned his attention to Brett, his eyes full of unmistakable approval. "Brett, this has come as a surprise. But the emotions of young people are never predictable. Love cannot be forced, and it is better to let things unfold naturally. If you and Chelsey were not meant to be, and you now share feelings with Lydia, perhaps this is simply another form of destiny."

Shock flashed across Gretchen's face as she struggled to process what she had just heard.

Disappointment and anger burned in her eyes while she stared hard at Jorge. "Jorge, how can you possibly say something like that? Our daughter was humiliated, and her fiance was taken right from her. As her father, you should be standing up for her. Instead, you talk about some lame destiny. Do you even have a conscience?"

Stung by the public criticism, Jorge faltered and fought to keep his expression composed.

Raising his voice, he said, "Gretchen, mind how you speak. What kind of behavior is this?"

Taking on the air of someone thinking broadly, he continued, "The younger generation should resolve their own problems. We should not interfere too much. Are you really willing to tear apart a couple who care for each other and embarrass everyone just to satisfy your own sense of fairness?"

He then turned to Brett and Lydia, his tone softening considerably. "Brett, Lydia, don't feel burdened. When it comes to love, mutual feelings are what matter most. I get it."

So furious that words failed her, Gretchen pointed at Jorge, her hand trembling.

At that moment, the elevator doors slid open, and Chelsey appeared in a wheelchair, guided forward by a servant.