Chapter 17
Chapter 17:
Stacey couldn’t shake her father’s warning from her mind. “Either you get Alden to forgive you, or don’t bother showing your face at home—both Terry and you should move out.” The words clanged in her head like a warning bell before a storm.
She put on a stiff, artificial smile. “Mr. Wilson, this is all a misunderstanding.” She gestured toward the packages on the coffee table. “I’ve brought some gifts to properly apologize to Helena.” The packages contained clothes, handbags, and shoes she had bought.
“Helena appears on camera frequently,” Stacey explained, her voice dripping with false sweetness. “She should dress accordingly. These were all custom-made by designers based on her measurements p>
She turned to Helena, her tone barely concealing its venom. “Why don’t you try them on p>
Helena released a cold, mocking laugh. Just moments earlier, this woman had been eager to scar her face—precisely because she would be appearing on camera.
Alden sneered. “You believe I can’t provide these things myself p>
Stacey suppressed her rising anger. “That’s not what I meant. I simply thought you wouldn’t recognize what Helena prefers—given that they’re… women’s items p>
Douglas nudged Gemma, who reluctantly stepped forward to persuade Helena.
But Helena had witnessed enough of this charade.
“I want nothing from you,” she declared firmly. “From this moment forward, I’ll accept nothing from the Simpson family. You all repulse me p>
She had longed to speak these words but had never found the courage to do so until now.
Perhaps Alden’s presence beside her had given her the strength to finally voice her feelings.
Helena felt a weight lift from her shoulders.
Her eyes reddened with emotion as she tugged Alden’s sleeve. “Let’s go,” she whispered.
As she turned to leave, Alden stopped her.
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“I think there might be something worth examining among these,” he said. “Are you certain you don’t want to look p>
Helena’s eyes widened in confusion. Could Alden truly expect her to accept these humiliating peace offerings?
Meanwhile, Stacey barely concealed her triumphant smirk.
She’d heard Alden wasn’t favored within his family—that the true heir would be his stepmother’s son, Rylan.
What a pathetic man, she thought. He couldn’t even provide Helena with new clothes. Why was her father so concerned as to make her apologize?
Alden casually pointed at a shoe box. “That pair of shoes p>
A staff member beside Stacey moved to bring the shoes to Helena, but Alden immediately added, “Stacey, deliver them yourself p>
Stacey’s smile froze. “What exactly are you implying, Mr. Wilson p>
Alden narrowed his eyes, his tone carrying a dangerous edge. “If this is truly an apology, it should come from the heart p>
He guided Helena by the shoulders to sit with him on the nearby sofa. “I want you to kneel and help Helena try these shoes on,” he instructed. Only then did Helena understand—Alden’s intention had nothing to do with the shoes.
He sought to restore her dignity.
Stacey’s body tensed, her face draining of color.
She looked to Gemma and Douglas for assistance, but they averted their eyes. If anyone would suffer this humiliation, it would be Stacey alone.
As if on cue, her phone vibrated. Her father’s name illuminated the screen.
Grinding her teeth, she snatched the shoes, approached Helena, and knelt before her.
As she removed Helena’s shoes, Stacey’s resentment swelled until tears threatened to spill.
Helena shifted uncomfortably, but Alden gently pressed her shoulder, steadying her.
His gaze remained firm. This wasn’t cruelty—it was justice. Helena deserved this moment.
Helena drew a deep breath and settled herself.
She recognized that Stacey wasn’t kneeling to her, or even to Alden. Stacey knelt before the power and privilege her family so desperately worshipped.
Watching such a theatrical and absurd performance unfold in mere minutes was almost laughable.
As if catching her thought mid-air, Alden lifted his phone and began recording the scene.
“Mr. Wilson, please stop filming,” Stacey pleaded, frantically covering her face.
Alden responded with icy precision, “When you intended to record Helena earlier, did you consider you might be recorded as well p>
Stacey fell silent.
Helena examined the new shoes on her feet. “These don’t suit me,” she said calmly. “And those clothes—they’re not my style.” She removed the shoes and slipped back into her own.
Stacey’s fury built inside her, ready to erupt, until she glanced up and met Alden’s penetrating stare.
He loomed above her, quiet and cold as a closing door. “Then don’t accept them,” he said. “But don’t worry—I’ll make sure to return a gift, one the Simpson family won’t forget p>
In the end, they took nothing. Not a gift, not a glance at the Simpson family.
Alden clasped Helena’s hand, and the two of them walked out of the house like they’d just shut the final page of a very ugly chapter.