Chapter 84
Chapter 84:
In the bustling kitchen, while the chef meticulously continued his culinary tasks, his assistants abruptly ceased theirs.
The only sound that filled the tense air was the chef’s knife rhythmically slicing through vegetables with practiced precision.
Maisie, her face flushed with rage, raised her hand threateningly to slap Helena.
However, the moment was shattered by the chef’s authoritative shout. “Enough slacking off! The surveillance cameras see everything. Mr. Wilson will cut your wages if he catches you slacking p>
Maisie’s hand paused, suspended in the thick kitchen air.
Her eyes darted to the surveillance cameras—no way was she letting them catch her laying a hand on Helena.
With a deep, controlled breath, she reined in her anger, her eyes narrowing with calculated calm. “You need to shed those old habits you dragged here to the Wilson family from the Simpson family, where they treated you no better than a servant. Here, I’m merely asking you to lend a hand to the chef and manage some simple tasks. Surely, you can handle that, can’t you p>
Helena tensed, her back straightening as she absorbed the sting of the words.
In her younger days, Helena’s life had been uprooted when her mother, Gemma, remarried and intertwined their fates with the affluent Simpson family. Back then, Helena’s understanding was limited, and she would often visit the opulent Simpson family’s estate to see her mother, Gemma.
The staff at the Simpson family’s estate, always quick to sneer, would coerce her into performing all kinds of tasks.
Helena clung to the belief that completing the tasks might coax her mother out of hiding, so she tackled each one with unwavering diligence.
Maisie’s sharp words now ripped through the delicate fabric of those long-suppressed memories, causing Helena’s heart to throb with pain.
Maisie’s laughter sliced through the air, icy and mocking. “With Frida asleep now, I’m the one running things around here. Defy me, and it won’t just be you who suffers—everyone will feel the consequences p>
Her strategy was clear: there was no need for physical confrontation when she could simply use others to degrade Helena.
The chef remained tight-lipped, casting his gaze downward as the rest of the kitchen staff observed the unfolding drama.
M𝒪rє 𝒸ontєnt 𝓃𝒾𝓌: g𝒶l𝑛ovєls.𝓬○𝓶
Helena, feeling the weight of their stares, bit her lip hard and chose silence over protest.
It was just some household tasks—grueling but not impossible. However, the thought of her defiance causing distress to others was intolerable.
As Helena relented, a smug expression spread across Maisie’s face, her satisfaction palpable in the tense kitchen air.
She didn’t hesitate to issue commands. “Quickly clean up that mess on the floor and get those dishes washed—now p>
Helena knelt down, carefully gathering the broken porcelain pieces one at a time.
Maisie approached and towered over Helena, her voice icy and menacing. “I’ll give you one last chance, Helena. Spill everything you know about Alden p>
A man’s deep, icy voice interrupted from behind. “I’m here now. What exactly do you want to find out p>
Alden entered, his aura so authoritative it filled the room with tension. Cold dread pricked at Maisie’s skin.
“I—I didn’t mean anything by it p>
Alden ignored her, bending down to assist Helena to her feet.
Her hand was shockingly cold in his, and her downcast eyes, silent and withdrawn, pierced his heart.
“I should’ve arrived here sooner… I’m sorry p>
In that instant, Alden’s earlier frustration dissolved, swallowed by a deep swell of guilt.
Helena’s thoughts scattered. She didn’t know what to say at the moment.
The comforting heat from Alden’s hand seeped through, gently dissolving the frost that had clung stubbornly to her heart.
She whispered hesitantly, her voice a fragile murmur, “You’re not to blame. But… can you cover my cab fare p>
Alden’s response was a pause, a moment of contemplation, before a soft, understanding smile touched his lips as he nodded.
Maisie, a silent observer to their tender exchange, felt a stir of disquiet within her.
She figured Alden didn’t care about Helena—just let Helena make her own way here, not even sending a car, as if his wife’s well-being was the least of his concerns.
Yet here he was, treating Helena with an unexpected tenderness that took Maisie off guard.
While Maisie was lost in her conflicted thoughts, her eyes accidentally clashed with Alden’s, his gaze icy and sharp as a dagger’s edge.
He spoke with a calm that belied the steel in his tone. “Since you seem to cherish the kitchen so dearly, remain here and lend a hand until dinner. I expect not to see you outside of this area before then p>
Maisie, inflamed by his command, let out a scornful chuckle, her voice tinged with bitterness. “Alden, remember I am Rylan’s mother and your father’s wife—who are you to dictate my movements?” She spun on her heel and stormed toward the kitchen exit.
“Rylan’s struggling with that land auction lately, isn’t he p>
Alden’s voice, cold and unyielding, sliced through the tense air, anchoring Maisie in place. She found herself mute, unable to respond. The bidding on the land Rylan desperately sought had unexpectedly doubled—a secret known to only a select few.
How on earth did Alden know?
A wave of utter disbelief washed over Maisie’s face. “Was it you? No, that can’t be—you’re nothing but a useless deaf p>
She slapped her hand over her mouth, her eyes wide with horror as she realized the gravity of her words.
Alden’s face remained impassive, but the iciness in his eyes deepened.
“If you refuse to stay here and work, your son will be the one who pays the price p>
The cruel symmetry of the moment struck Maisie hard. Just moments before, she had dangled a similar threat over Helena—now Alden was mirroring her venom to get back at her.
Humiliation seared through Maisie, pinning her to the spot as she watched Alden lead Helena away from the kitchen.