Chapter 5 The confrontation

Adeline guided her black car through the driveway of the Carter estate, and she gripped the wheel a bit too hard, her knuckles pale against the leather. Sleep had barely touched her after the wild night with Julian, his touch still lingering in her mind, hot and confusing, but she couldn't face her own home just yet.

Patrick's things were still there, and the idea of his sad, accusing eyes facing her if she went back home made her stomach turn. No, it was better to head straight here, to the heart of the storm. Her father's anger she could handle, since it was familiar, like an old bruise.

The estate appeared ahead, a huge building with tall windows and ivy climbing the walls. It had been in the family for generations, a symbol of power and old money, and Adeline parked near the fountain. She stepped out, smoothing her wrinkled dress, the same one from the party, now feeling like a badge of rebellion.

The air smelled of fresh-cut grass and distant roses from the gardens her real mother used to tend before everything fell apart.

Before cancer took her mother, Beatrice, her father's current wife, had been lurking in the background, a pretty, ambitious woman who caught Jonathan's eye during late-night "meetings." Adeline remembered the gossip that started and the way Beatrice would show up at family events as a "friend" even while her mother was still alive.

When the funeral ended, Beatrice wasted no time. She moved in with suitcases full of designer clothes and a smile that said she had finally won, and from then on, she ruled the house like a queen. She never yelled in front of guests, but behind closed doors, she made sure Adeline knew her place, which was the daughter of the weak first wife, who was now a forgotten memory.

Adeline climbed the front steps, her heels clicking on the stone. The door creaked open before she could reach for the handle, and Beatrice stood in the doorway, dressed in a gray outfit that hugged her slim figure. Her hair was pulled back perfectly, not a strand out of place, but her face was twisted with rage, her lips thin, and her eyes like ice picks.

Adeline crossed the threshold into the main entrance, and the door closed shut behind her, sealing in the tension, but instead of saying something as soon as she entered, Beatrice’s hand whipped out fast, her palm connecting with Adeline's cheek in a stinging slap. The sound echoed through the hall like a whip, and Adeline's head snapped sideways, a burst of heat spreading across her skin. She staggered a step, her hand flying up to touch the spot, and it burned, already swelling.

She stared at Beatrice, her breath catching. In all the years since Beatrice had taken over, she'd never laid a hand on Adeline. Sure, she had made cruel comments at dinner, snide remarks about her clothes or her work, but getting physical? This was new, and it shook Adeline more than she wanted to admit.

Beatrice stepped closer, a confident look plastered on her face despite her assault. "That's for making a fool of this family last night," she said, her voice low and venomous. "Kissing that Hale boy right there on stage, in front of cameras and everyone who matters. Announcing you're dumping your husband for our worst enemy. Do you have any idea the calls I've been fielding all morning? People asking if your father has lost control of his own daughter?"

Adeline pressed her fingers harder against her cheek, feeling the throb. A small cut inside her mouth leaked blood, metallic on her tongue, but she swallowed it down and met Beatrice's glare. "I know what people are saying, and news flash, I meant for them to say it."

Beatrice's laugh was short and bitter. "Meant it? You're proud of acting like a cheap whore? Patrick is a fine man from a good family. Men like him stray sometimes, but it's only natural when wives get too wrapped up in their jobs and become too cold at home. You should have dealt with it privately and smiled through it like a real lady. Instead, you turned it into trashy drama. Your father is beside himself, and I've never seen him so angry."

Adeline felt the old resentment bubble up. Beatrice always defended Jonathan, no matter how he treated her. She held on to him like he was gold, more worried about how things looked than how they felt. "Angry because his reputation took a hit? Or because I didn't let Patrick make me look weak?"

"Don't twist this," Beatrice snapped. "You brought the shame, so you better fix it. Go back to Patrick, say you were upset and overemotional, and it’s normal for women to get like that. And after that, stay away from Julian Hale forever. Your father is in his study, and he's waiting. If you're smart, you'll go in there and apologize on your knees. Beg if you have to, or he'll cut you off for good, no money, no company, nothing."

Adeline didn't reply. She brushed past Beatrice, her shoulder almost bumping hers, and headed down the hallway. Family portraits lined the walls, stern ancestors in oil paint, her brothers looking smug in old photos, but there were no pictures of her mother anymore since Beatrice had quietly replaced them with new ones over the years.

Her mind raced as she walked. The feud with the Hales went back decades to stolen deals, lawsuits, and bitter words at every gala. Julian's father, Edward, had been Jonathan's rival for as long as she could remember, and now Adeline was tying herself to it all, on purpose. It felt right, though, despite how she knew she was taking a risk.

She reached the study door and knocked once.

"Come in," Jonathan barked from inside.

Adeline pushed the door open and stepped into the room. Bookshelves towered on every wall, filled with leather-bound volumes he never read, and a big desk sat in the center, with papers scattered. Jonathan stood by the tall window overlooking the lawns with his back to her and his hands clasped tight.

He didn't turn right away, and Adeline waited, her heart pounding but her face calm.

Finally, he turned around, and his eyes raked over her, starting from her messy hair, rumpled dress, and the red mark on her cheek that was starting to bruise, and disgust flashed across his features.

"You look like hell," he said flatly.

"I feel like it too," Adeline replied, keeping her voice even.

He snorted. "After rolling around with that Hale kid all night, I bet. Announcing it to the world like some desperate girl chasing headlines."

Adeline stayed near the door, her arms loose at her sides. "Patrick cheated first. I saw it myself, in the bathroom at the party, with my own assistant. I wasn't going to stand up there and let everyone pity the poor wife he betrayed, so I decided to make the first move."

Jonathan waved it off like it was nothing. "So he had a fling, happens all the time. Men need release when things get tense at home. You pushed him away since you’re always buried in work and trying to prove you're as good as your brothers. A wife's job is to keep her man satisfied, not chase deals."

The words hit like another slap, and Adeline felt heat rise in her chest. "So it's my fault he couldn't stay faithful?"

"It's your fault you blasted it publicly," he growled, stepping closer. "You embarrassed me in front of friends, investors, and rivals. That party was supposed to be your triumph, and you turned it into a joke."

Adeline lifted her chin. "I turned it into my story, not his."

Jonathan's face darkened further. "Your story? Running off with Julian Hale? The son of the man who's tried to bury me for years?"

She took a breath. "Well, just so you know, Julian proposed this morning that we get married as soon as the divorce goes through, and I accepted."

The room went dead quiet. Jonathan froze, his eyes widening for a split second before rage flooded in. His cheeks turned red, his fists clenching.

"You... what?" he whispered, his voice dangerous.

"I'm marrying Julian Hale," Adeline said again, clear and steady.

He moved quick, his hand rising, and the back of it smashed across Adeline's face, harder than Beatrice's, sending stars bursting in her vision. Pain exploded, and she reeled back, crashing into a side table. A vase wobbled but didn't fall, and blood filled her mouth again, thicker this time. Tears stung her eyes, but she was quick to blink them away.

Jonathan towered over her, his chest heaving. "I will not link this family to Edward Hale, not through you, and not ever. I'd disown you first and erase you like you never existed."

Adeline straightened slowly, wiping blood from her lip with the back of her hand. Her cheek throbbed in rhythm with her pulse, already swelling, but inside, something hardened. "Then do it," she said, her voice shaking only a little. "Disown me, and cut me off. I don't care anymore. The wedding happens anyway."

She turned and walked out, her legs steady even as everything hurt. The door closed behind her, and in the hallway, Beatrice lingered by a doorway, a faint smirk playing on her lips like she'd enjoyed the show.

Adeline ignored her completely. She walked through the entrance, out the front door, and down the steps, and sliding into the driver's seat, she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror, her cheek bruised purple and lip split. It looked bad, but it also felt like freedom.