Chapter 36
“Get on your knees and beg her for mercy.” Jonathan turned his back, moving toward the liquor cabinet. “Tell her you’re the one who seduced me. Admit it was all your doing.”
Wendy’s face lost all color instantly.
“By tomorrow.” He pushed her aside roughly. She staggered and collapsed onto the floor like a shattered porcelain doll. “If Daphne doesn’t accept your apology, you and your mother will be thrown out of this city.”
The door slammed shut behind him. Wendy remained curled on the ground, weeping silently while clutching her abdomen.
The physical pain from her miscarriage still lingered faintly. But a deeper, colder ache gripped her as the truth settled in. To Jonathan, she had always been disposable. Replaceable.
She had believed herself special. Thought removing me would secure her place as the lady of the house.
She was mistaken.
Jonathan never truly cared. It was nothing more than a passing obsession.
Not long after, he shipped Wendy overseas to track me down.
I stirred my latte slowly, studying the weary woman across the table.
No amount of makeup could hide the dark circles under her eyes. Or the faint red mark on her left cheek.
“Ms. Lancaster.” Her hands were clenched tightly in her lap, knuckles bone-white. “Please. Have pity on me and my mother.”
I noticed her right hand drift unconsciously to her flat stomach.
“You’re apologizing to the wrong person,” I said quietly, setting my cup down. “It’s Jonathan you should be begging.”
Tears pooled in Wendy’s eyes.
“He won’t listen!” Her voice rose sharply before she remembered we were in public. She lowered it to a strained whisper. “Only you can make him stop. He demands I kneel to you! He even struck me yesterday…”
A waiter walked by carrying a tray of lemon water. Wendy flinched and quickly wiped her face.
Once he passed, she gritted her teeth. “He said if you don’t forgive me, he’ll exile me and my mother. But I was born here. I have nowhere else to go.”
Suddenly, she slid off her chair. Her knees hit the café floor with a hard thud.
“I’m begging you!” Her forehead nearly touched the tiles. “My mother is elderly. She can’t handle this stress. Please, just forgive me!”
Her dramatic move drew every eye in the café.
Even the waiter paused, uncertain whether to step in.
I drew a slow breath and leaned down to help her up. “Get off the floor. We can speak standing.”
But Wendy refused to move. “Not unless you promise.”
I looked down at her and let out a cold laugh.
“Then stay there.” My voice was steady. “You’re not afraid of Jonathan, Wendy. You’re afraid of losing the Zanders’ fortune.”
Her head snapped up. Her lips trembled. “That’s not—”
“If you weren’t so greedy, you could have left with your mother ages ago.”
I cut her off, my tone sharp with disdain.
“You’re kneeling here not out of desperation, but because you’re still gambling. Betting that I’ll pity you. Betting that I can sway Jonathan so you can remain his little mistress.”
Wendy’s face went ghostly pale.
“Stop acting like the victim.” I stood up, gazing down at her coldly. “I know exactly who you are. Should I list all the ways you seduced him? How you flaunted your ‘status’ in front of me?”
Her breathing grew ragged. She glanced around nervously, but had no retort.
“Kneel if you want.” I grabbed my bag and turned to leave. “But I’m not Jonathan. I don’t feel sorry for you.”
Suddenly, she lunged forward and seized my wrist. Her nails dug deep into my skin. “Daphne! How can you be so cruel?”