Chapter 53

The ordinary residential parking lot was unusually tense as Nathan, Margaret, and Julian—who had rushed back—sat in the car with Evelyn, who was eager to witness the unfolding drama firsthand.

Their eyes were fixed on Genevieve, standing near the entrance, clearly waiting for someone.

She still chose to come see Damian again. Disappointment flickered in Margaret’s and Richard’s eyes.

Julian, ever the calm observer, spoke softly. "Maybe she’s here to confront him. Or to finally get closure."

After all, the look on Genevieve’s face wasn’t one of longing anymore—it was icy detachment.

Between the parking lot and the residential area, clusters of elderly neighbors chatted loudly, their voices carrying like wildfire. True to their reputation as the neighborhood’s most efficient gossip network, nothing escaped their sharp tongues.

Bored, Evelyn half-listened to their mundane chatter—until the conversation took a sharp turn.

The atmosphere in the car turned suffocating.

Because they were now talking about Genevieve.

Genevieve must have sensed it too. Her gaze snapped toward the gossiping crowd.

"What? Did Damian’s mother really say that?"

"Oh, absolutely. She even said whether they actually get married is still up in the air. And she doesn’t care who he brings home—as long as he’s entertained."

"Disgusting. Any girl who ends up with that family is doomed."

"Honestly, any girl who moves in with a man before marriage has no self-respect. If she doesn’t respect herself, why should anyone else?"

"Oh, please. What century are we living in—"

The Blackwoods’ expressions darkened. Hearing the rumors firsthand was like a knife to the heart.

Evelyn studied Genevieve’s face, noting how different she looked now compared to when she had spoken to her family earlier.

"But didn’t Gwendolyn act all sweet with that girl last time? Like she adored her?"

"Pure acting. The second the girl left, she started bragging." The speaker mimicked Gwendolyn’s voice mockingly. "She’s some rich heiress, completely obsessed with my son. Begged to move in with us. But so what if she’s rich? She’ll still have to serve my family. Otherwise, I wouldn’t even let her through the door."

The others cackled—whether at the foolish girl or the delusional mother was unclear.

"Gwendolyn kept saying they’d marry soon. That the girl was desperate, afraid someone else would snatch Damian away. That’s why she moved in—to keep an eye on him."

"Her son is a leech. Handsome, sure, but lazy. Always dreaming big, doing nothing. Who’d even want him?"

"Exactly! And yet she brags about how her son won’t pay a single cent for the wedding. Says the girl’s family will have to fork over a dowry just to make sure he treats her well."

"Oh, I heard worse. The poor girl’s family is expected to pay for Camille’s overseas education, buy them a house, a car, and even get Damian a job!"

"Delusional. Do they think everyone’s an idiot?"

"Well, hard to say. The girl’s already living with him—her reputation’s ruined. If word spreads, she’ll be seen as ‘used goods.’ And if she gets pregnant? Her family will have no choice but to accept this sham."

Three weeks of cohabitation, and the rumors were already spreading like wildfire.

Gwendolyn and Camille had been working overtime to tarnish Genevieve’s name.

Their goal? Trap her.

If Genevieve was foolish enough to elope, she’d be stuck—no way out.

Margaret’s eyes welled up. Richard pulled her close, murmuring, "I should’ve been stricter with her. She grew up too sheltered."

"No, it’s my fault," Margaret choked out. "I protected her too much."

Julian’s jaw tightened. "This isn’t on either of you. Some lessons have to be learned the hard way."

The Blackwoods had given their children everything—wealth, comfort, love. But they hadn’t prepared them for the cruelty of the world.

Now, their expressions hardened.

If Genevieve still chose to be a fool, they wouldn’t hesitate to drag her out themselves.

After all, she’d already given up her future for love—handing her opportunities to her boyfriend’s sister, even paying her tuition.

Utterly senseless.

And if she didn’t wake up now, she deserved what came next.

Genevieve had never noticed the disdain in people’s eyes before.

But today, with one glance, she saw it all—the contempt, the mockery.

It stole her breath.

"Where’s Damian?" she asked, forcing down the bile in her throat.

Camille blinked. Odd. She didn’t call him ‘Dami.’

Still, she answered sweetly, "He heard you were coming and figured you hadn’t eaten. Went home to cook for you. Should be back soon." She leaned in, whispering, "But don’t get any ideas about him cooking for your whole family. That’s beneath him."

Genevieve’s glare was so sharp, Camille instinctively stepped back.

Meanwhile, the Blackwoods spotted a man striding into the hallway, carrying something.

Handsome, yes.

But Evelyn’s lips curled.

Well, well. The trash has finally shown itself.