Dark Revenge Of A Jilted Bride: Till Life Do Us Part!-Chapter 26: Fallout

Gianna stood before the mirror, looking her best, or at least the best of what she could manage after the disaster of last night. She hadn’t been able to sleep, despite taking her drugs, nor had she been able to accept Chelsea’s diagnosis that she stay at home today.

She turned to her side, inhaling deeply, staring at herself, at the faint lines around her eyes despite the makeup she had done to cover the dark circles there.

Her reflection stared back at her, dressed in a fastidious, clean, carefully coordinated outfit—an ivory button-up shirt tucked neatly into high-waisted black palazzos that draped fluidly around her legs, sharp enough to be official yet soft enough to feel like armor.

The shirt’s crisp collar framed her face, while her makeup—warm-toned foundation, a subtle contour, lashes brushed upward, and a muted rose lip—accentuated her features just enough to hide the storm brewing beneath her skin.

She had pulled her hair into a sleek twist, elegant and deliberate. Her sling-back heels, a soft beige that elongated her legs, completed the look; quiet, confident, and polished as though nothing in her world was falling apart.

She could do it. She murmured it to her reflection like a pact, before picking her handbag and strolling out of the room. As much as she wanted to hide under the covers and wait for the problem to go away, she couldn’t. She had to be at work.

Even though she was a top designer, this was only her second day at the Becketts; she couldn’t go around obtaining leave when she was just starting, when she needed to prove her place, to show the superiors that they hadn’t made a wrong choice in giving her a chance.

"Gia, where are you going?"

Gianna exhaled softly, her steps retracting to the breakfast table where she pulled out a seat and sat down. She might as well eat, even though her stomach didn’t seem to be in a good mood.

"To work, Gigi. Good morning," she said to Florence, before greeting old Mr Thorne, before winking tiredly at the four children at the table.

The twins, though, with slightly grim, and worried expressions couldn’t bring themselves to return it. Without asking, she knew that they knew, knew that they weren’t sure how to go about it. Zane was their godfather after all.

"Are you sure? You know the reporters are not polite... already the guards had picked up on more than three roaming around..." old Mr Thorne started, scooping food into her plate, his eyes so gentle that Gianna felt her own eyes begin to prickle again.

Last night, she had cried until no tears were left—a mixture of grief, over the anniversary of her grandfather’s death and everything in between. Yet somehow, it seemed there had been a refill as she slept.

"I will be fine, Papa Bear. Surely, they can’t harm me."

Old Mr Thorne exchanged a wry glance with his wife. "Have you been on the socials this morning?"

Gianna shook her head. She hadn’t even bothered to touch her phone after reading the news on Chelsea’s—not bothered to see the calls banging the phone. She had even turned it off at one point. It was still off.

"What? Has Zane taken care of it?"

When she saw the hesitation on old Mr Thorne’s face, her stomach dropped. "What is happening?" Were things about to get worse?

"It is still making the rounds. I have thought about working on it, called Zane... he mentioned that he had it under control... said something about an interview?"

Gianna paled. "Interview?" She was about to cuss when she realized that the children were still at the table.

Nathaniel, noticing her expression, turned to his sister. "Come on... let’s go prepare for school..."

"But..." Kendra was about to say they had done all the preparation they could, but Kathleen held her friend’s hand and asked her about the latest invention in class. Distracted, the little girl allowed Kathleen to lead her away, following Nathaniel and Cairo out of the room.

"What the hell is Zane up to, Gramps?" Gianna bit out when she was sure the children were out of hearing range. "My reputation is on the line here!"

Old Mr Thorne sighed, now wishing he had taken care of this when he had woken up to it this morning. But Zane had assured him he didn’t need to worry, and he trusted the latter to take care of it.

Yet, it was already 8 a.m., and the news was still making rounds.

"Gianna, you know Zane..."

"I don’t know him, Gramps! He is just Athena’s friend... Ewan’s too."

Old Mr Thorne nodded, as if remembering only now that Gianna and Zane didn’t see eye to eye. Not really.

"What do you want me to do? Should I bypass his words?"

Gianna bit her lower lip, deflating, actually feeling grateful for this family. She knew if she said yes, he would actually do it—push Zane’s words aside, despite their history—and do what was necessary for her.

"No, don’t worry old man." Her voice returned to its teasing mood. "It’s our business. We will deal with it in a way we see fit. Just enjoy your retirement with Gigi here..."

Old Mr Thorne grunted. "I’m beginning to think I did retire early. You lot are using it as an excuse to keep me out of a lot."

Gianna laughed, taking a spoon of food to her lips. "As if! Didn’t you bulldoze your way into the Dark Factory when Athena was kidnapped, despite being told to sit out because of your health?"

"That was different!" But he was smiling now. He tapped her hand gently, warmth seeping into her skin. "Are you sure you want to handle this on your own? You just need to say the word..."

She covered his palm with her other hand. "I will be fine. Cross my heart."

Her stomach had been right, though—it wasn’t in the mood. But to appease Florence, who was staring at her meaningfully, she picked an apple from the fruit basket before getting to her feet.

"I will see you guys later... I’ll be fine." She added the words when she saw the ghost of worry flash across Florence’s face.

Dropping kisses on their foreheads, she wished them a good day, asked them to send her regards to the children, and zoomed out of the house.

But outside, she saw that three of the guards were waiting with a second car to leave with her.

She rolled her eyes dramatically, feeling somewhat lighter. So much for being kept out! She mused, not bothering to shake them off. They looked determined quite all right.

As she drove out of the house, out of the street, and into the road, she could see the reporters waiting by the junction, and the gloom descended again, a stark reminder of what she was about to face.

Tsk. She increased her acceleration. Were they hoping she would walk out from the house? They must be new in business.