Dark Revenge Of A Jilted Bride: Till Life Do Us Part!-Chapter 47: Interference II

"On behalf of my family, I apologize sincerely..." Clement started, restraining himself—barely—from throttling Gianna where she sat, looking comfy and gloatful, her arms folded lightly as if she were in her own living room.

The bitch! Was she trying to ruin his plan before he even started? His jaw clenched so tightly a vein pulsed near his temple.

"I wasn’t aware of this cake being a leftover, and I am sure my wife wasn’t aware either. We wouldn’t show that form of disrespect. If you will... we would be pleased for you to wait a little while for a sumptuous..."

Old Mr. Thorne shook his head, interrupting Clement, not in the least interested in whatever the man had to say.

His hand flicked dismissively, his expression carved from stone. "I am not here to feast. I’m only here to help with the transfer of my daughter’s properties from this house to where it would be looked after properly..."

"Daughter?" Sabrina could finally not hold it in, bitterness overtaking the place of common sense.

Her lips twitched upward in a sneer. "Did you adopt this leech over there? Let me tell you, good sir, you—"

"What gave you the right to address me directly? Have you lost your manners?" Old Mr. Thorne’s voice dropped into a grave, earth-deep register—enough for Clement to turn swiftly and deal a sharp knock to Sabrina’s head.

"Have some respect! And keep your mouth shut! Woman, keep your child under control..." Clement barked, pointing a trembling finger at his daughter.

Josephine bobbled her head rapidly, aware of the unstable position they were in, aware of the power Old Mr. Thorne held in the city.

Swallowing down the humiliation, she cautioned a shocked Sabrina to keep mute during the proceedings—to the chagrin of the latter, and to the quiet, tiny happiness of Gianna, whose eyes glittered with restrained satisfaction.

"I apologize again, Mr...."

"Hold it, Clement. Just lead us to the room where Gianna’s properties are, so we can get out of your hair."

Old Mr. Thorne’s tone allowed no argument.

Clement bit his lips hard. Things were not going according to plan—not even remotely. But having no choice, he nodded stiffly and gestured toward the hallway, to which Gianna and Old Mr. Thorne got to their feet.

Before they could move further though, Old Mr. Thorne picked his phone and sent a text, his thumb tapping decisively.

Before Clement could comprehend the reason for the message, the guards stomped into the sitting room without the butler—or rather, with the butler hurrying anxiously after them.

"I tried to stop them..." the butler blurted.

Old Mr. Thorne looked incredulous. His brows flew upward. "And why would you do that?"

The butler had the good sense to clamp his mouth shut and hurry out of the sitting room entirely.

"Clement, lead the way..."

Ignoring the two women sitting placidly on the sofa—one stiff, one simmering—the standing group started out of the room.

Immediately they were out of hearing, Sabrina stamped her feet on the floor like a crazed fellow and got to her feet. "Mom, did you see that? Did you see the smug look in Gianna’s eyes? She is enjoying this much!"

Josephine saw it quite alright—felt the humiliation that came with it burn along her throat—yet understood they were powerless against it. This was not a mere businessman they were dealing with. This was Old Mr. Thorne.

She sighed, watching her daughter pace restlessly like a trapped cat. "Try to calm down, Sabrina. They will soon be out of the house."

"Calm down? How can you tell me to calm down, Mom? And look at Daddy, begging like a..."

"Oh, shut up your mouth!"

Sabrina’s mouth hung open at the anger and irritation coating her mother’s words. Her eyes blinked rapidly, stunned.

"Are you still a kid? Don’t you know who Mr. Thorne is, and what his possible connection to us could bring? Have you learnt nothing working for Zane Whitman? Doesn’t anything penetrate that thick skull of yours?"

Sabrina scoffed, tossing her hair. "Of course I understand. But still..."

"But still what?" Josephine shook her head sharply, anger and worry colliding in her chest. Sometimes, she wondered if she had spoiled her only child too much.

"Can’t you be strategic for once? Can’t you think in that line?"

Probably why she hasn’t been promoted since she started working at the Whitman jewelry house. No strategic thinking, no innovative spirit.

Josephine exhaled, pushing away the depressing thought before it grew thorns. She shouldn’t be thinking so low of her daughter.

After all, all this was Gianna’s fault.

Her daughter had always been better; Gianna was just good at leeching, at being a groveler to the rich and mighty.

Just take a look at her—manipulating Old Mr. Thorne? Were they sleeping together?

One could never tell with these things. It was Athena she pitied, depending on such a fellow as a best friend.

"Mom!"

"What?!" Josephine snapped, glaring at Sabrina, who was equally displeased with her mother’s attitude.

"What are we going to do about Gianna?"

"What are we going to do? Forget about us—what are you going to do? Aren’t you two working in the same field? And I am sure that she will be planning to show herself in the jewelry competition... you should be thinking on how to stop that, or even beat her..."

Sabrina sighed, deflating and falling onto the same sofa as though her bones had given up. There was no way she could win Gianna—but maybe...

"You are right, Mom... but how do I do it? It would have been easier if she was at Whitman’s..."

Josephine scoffed. "It will be harder to trace since she is at the Becketts. You can..."

A guard stepped into the room, cutting off whatever Josephine had to say. "Your presence is needed by Mr. Thorne. The both of you."

Josephine exchanged wry, worried glances with her daughter.

What could the old geezer possibly want from them? she wondered as she got to her feet and followed the stern-looking guard out of the sitting room.

"Gianna said some clothes are missing from here—some of her mother’s clothes and jewelry... also her working emblem and tag at the charity organization she worked for, the ledger too..."

Old Mr. Thorne paused, looking at the members of the Clement Aldo family with icy expectation. "Where are these items?"

Silence ensued, with Sabrina shifting on her feet uneasily. Her fingers picked at her dress.

This time though, there was no smug look on Gianna’s face. It was unadulterated anger. A cold, sharp, righteous fury.

"Are you three deaf?!" she called out, not flinching when Clement snapped his head toward her at the disrespect.

"Where are my mother’s items? Where is the ledger? Some of the pictures are missing too..."

How dare they? she thought, fists balling by her side. How dare they touch these sacred things? Have they no respect for the dead?

But silence greeted her questions.

Old Mr. Thorne frowned then. "I will ask one more time, Clement. And if I get no answer, you three will be spending some days in the black cells..."

The three snapped their heads toward the old man, fear flashing instantly across their eyes.

The black cells were somewhat of a myth, until Athena had sentenced her enemies there. Cells unknown to the government, known only to the elite few—because Athena’s enemies had been part of them.

And Clement, being part of the elite, had heard the rumors, knew the cells were as real as anything real. He almost lost control of his bladder at the thought of spending even a minute there.

"There is no need for that, Mr. Thorne. Surely, we can work our way around this..." he said, voice thin with desperation.

He gritted his teeth when Gianna shook her head. Couldn’t she maintain some decorum and let the men talk?!

"There is nothing to work around, Mr. Clement. Just provide these items, so that I can leave this mansion and never return again!"

Clement swallowed, looked at his wife and daughter, and gestured with his head.

Gianna wasn’t sure what information had passed between them, but the next thing had her laughing sarcastically: they had fallen to their knees, their hands clasped together as if in prayer.

"This is a joke right..." she muttered, looking at Old Mr. Thorne, who wasn’t even fazed by this display.

"I didn’t ask you to kneel, Clement... I asked for the items. What do you think you are doing? What do you hope to achieve with this drama? Where are these items? I won’t ask again..."

Clement cursed the day, cursed his wife and daughter who—despite having enough—had sold the dresses and jewelry just for petty cash to squander on nothing.

He also cursed Gianna for leaving the properties in the mansion, and for coming here with Mr. Thorne.

"I am sorry, Mr. Thorne..." he paused, his voice attaining a sorrowful quality. "My wife and daughter... were in a hitch of some sort... so..."

He wetted his lips, looked at Gianna who was staring at him murderously, already knowing where this was heading too. "So..."

"So fucking what!" Gianna cried, stepping closer to them.

"They sold it. But I assure you, I can refund it. I can..."

"I don’t want your money, you bastardic excuse for an uncle." Gianna’s voice was suddenly calm—too calm for Clement to relax. If anything, he was more uneasy.

"Gianna, please... we are sorry..." Josephine spoke then, clutching her hands tight.

Gianna sneered. "You are sorry? Will that bring back the clothes and jewelry?"