Chapter 352

The room erupted in shock, as if struck by a seismic wave. Every gaze snapped toward Elspeth, eyes wide with disbelief.

Frederic and the Fairhavens were no exception.

Only two remained composed—Evadne, and Thaddeus.

He had suspected Elspeth long before Evadne voiced her doubts. But back then, he'd been recovering from a near-fatal head injury, his investigation derailed by Edith's theatrics.

Tonight, when Evadne confronted Elspeth alone, he'd tried to stop her.

He couldn't bear the thought of her in danger. If Elspeth dared attack Myra in public, she wouldn't hesitate to strike Evadne too.

He would be her shield. Her hands would stay clean.

He'd carry the weight of vengeance.

Yet she hadn't trusted him. The sting of that betrayal still burned, but his love for her eclipsed everything else.

"Elspeth," Frederic's voice was tight. "Is it true? You know this man?"

Elspeth's eyes flashed with wounded indignation. "Frederic, you're questioning me too? Evadne waltzes in with baseless accusations, and now you turn against me?"

Her melodramatic reaction belonged in a soap opera.

Glynnis, now sober, stumbled out of the room, her heart hammering.

Her father had always doted on her mother, defending her against Hamilton's wrath. Yet now, a single word from Evadne had him doubting?

"I'm not questioning you," Frederic said tersely, fists clenched.

"Of course I don't know him!" Elspeth's perfectly coiffed hair clung to her sweat-dampened temples. She glared at Evadne. "You despise me, Evadne. I've let our past grievances go, but now you're pinning your family's misfortunes on me? I'm not your scapegoat!"

Evadne smirked. "Elspeth, why so defensive? I merely asked if you were acquainted. Guilty conscience?"

"Evadne!" Elspeth seethed. "I'm tolerating you out of respect for Emeric and Hamilton. Don't push me!"

Jareth's knuckles whitened, barely restraining himself.

Thaddeus stepped forward, his voice glacial. "Elspeth, if you value your position as Mrs. Abernathy, mind your tone."

The audacity! Thaddeus was nothing but Evadne's attack dog!

"I am the lady of this house," Elspeth spat, "and I won't let some upstart slander me in my own home!"

Evadne's laughter was razor-sharp. "Lady of the house? Does Hamilton acknowledge you as such?"

The room gasped.

Glynnis watched her mother's face drain of color.

Evadne continued, hands in her pockets, radiating arrogance. "Let's be honest—your title exists solely because Frederic pampers you. The Abernathy Group? Elmsworth's elite? None of them recognize you as their matriarch."

She tilted her head. "If we're speaking of true hostesses, it should be Chad's mother—Frederic's lawful wife. Or perhaps Thaddeus's mother, Cynthia Winter."

The name Cynthia hung in the air like a ghost.

Thaddeus's jaw clenched, his nails biting into his palms.

Frederic's breath hitched, murmuring, "Cynthia... Cynthia..."

Elspeth's rage ignited. "Cynthia? That mistress? She was nothing but a servant in this house! How dare you compare her to me?"

"Elspeth!" Frederic roared, startling everyone. "She was not a mistress! And she's dead—show some respect!"

"Respect?" Elspeth sneered. "For a woman who couldn't even secure her place in society?"

A shadow fell over her.

Thaddeus stood before her, eyes black with fury.

Then—crack!

The slap echoed through the hall.

Elspeth staggered, her cheek flaming, blood trickling from her lip.

"You crossed the line," Thaddeus growled. "Cynthia was my mother. You will not insult her."

Frederic stood frozen, whispering Cynthia's name like a prayer.

Elspeth touched her stinging face, staring at the blood on her fingers. "You hit me?"

"Yes," Thaddeus said coldly. "Because unlike you, I honor the dead."

Silence.

The past had risen, raw and bleeding.

Elspeth stumbled back, catching herself on the couch.

"Thaddeus." Evadne's pulse raced, her chest tight with something fierce.