The Billionaire's Bought Bride and Instant Mom Chapter 95

Aveline

I woke up in Orion's guest room feeling more clearheaded than I had in months. The trauma of last night had crystallized into something sharp and focused: pure, righteous fury.

Not at what had almost happened to me—I'd survived worse and would survive this. But at the betrayal. At Vivian's smiling face as she handed me that drugged juice. At what seemed to be my stepparents' willing participation in selling me out for whatever favor Dwayne had promised them.

They were going to pay for that.

I didn't linger at Orion's place. I had business to attend to, and it couldn't wait. By the time I reached my family's apartment building, my anger had settled into something cold and deadly.

Instead of using my key like a civilized person, I drew my foot back and kicked the door open with enough force to make it slam against the wall.

The crash brought all three of them running—Grandma Eleanor from her room, Richard and Monica from the kitchen where they'd apparently been having breakfast like nothing had happened.

Eleanor's face immediately creased with worry when she saw me, but Richard and Monica looked furious rather than concerned.

"There she is!" Monica shrieked, pointing at me like I was some kind of criminal. "The sister who betrays her own family!"

"How could you do that to Vivian?" Richard added, his face red with indignation. "You were supposed to be there to support her, not steal her boyfriend!"

I stared at them in complete disbelief. "Are you fucking kidding me right now?"

"Don't you use that language with us!" Monica snapped. "Vivian came home crying last night! She told us everything—how Dwayne fell for you instead of her, how he asked you to stay the night while he sent her away like some unwanted third wheel!"

"You didn't even come home!" Richard jumped in. "Out all night doing God knows what with that man! Have you no shame? No consideration for your sister's feelings?"

The sheer audacity of their accusations left me speechless for about three seconds. Then the rage hit like a tidal wave.

My hand flew out and connected with Monica's cheek with a crack that echoed through the apartment.

"Your precious daughter drugged me!" I screamed, my voice raw with fury. "She put something in my drink and delivered me to that psychopath like a fucking gift! I wasn't sleeping with anyone—I was tied to a chair about to be raped!"

The words hung in the air like a bomb had gone off.

Eleanor gasped and immediately pushed herself up from her chair, her elderly face transformed by protective rage.

"Vivian said what?" she demanded, her voice shaking with anger.

"Mom, please," Richard started, reaching for her arm. "You can't just believe Aveline's wild stories over Vivian's word. Vivian would never—"

The crack of Eleanor's walking stick connecting with Richard's skull cut him off mid-sentence.

"Don't you dare!" she snarled, brandishing the cane like a weapon. "Don't you dare tell me what to believe about my granddaughter!"

She turned her blazing eyes on Monica, who was still holding her reddening cheek.

I'd never seen Grandma Eleanor like this before. In all my years living with her, she'd always been firm but gentle, diplomatic even when disappointed.

"If Vivian is so innocent, then explain why she got a phone call at two in the morning and ran out of here without saying where she was going!" Eleanor's voice was getting stronger with each word. "Explain why she hasn't come back or answered her phone since!"

Richard's face went white. "She... what? She left? When?"

"Right after she finished spinning her lies about Aveline, you worthless excuse for a father!" Eleanor snapped. "The little bitch knew exactly what she'd done, and she ran like the coward she is!"

"Mom, please, there has to be some misunderstanding—" Monica tried.

"The only misunderstanding," Eleanor cut her off, "is how I raised a son stupid enough to believe that manipulative little snake over the granddaughter who's never lied to me in her life!"

She turned to face both of them with the kind of authority that made grown adults feel like scolded children.

"Here's what's going to happen," she said with deadly calm. "You're going to find Vivian and drag her back here to explain herself. And until she does, neither of you gets a single penny of my estate. Not one cent. It's all going to Aveline."

Monica immediately dropped to her knees beside Eleanor's chair, tears streaming down her face.

"Please, Mom! We're sorry! We were just upset, we didn't know the whole story! Please don't punish us for being protective of Vivian!"

I watched this pathetic display with disgust, but felt a warmth spread through my chest at Eleanor's unwavering support. She'd believed me instantly, without question, and was willing to fight my battles even when her own son turned against me.

"I don't give a shit about your money," I said, walking closer to Richard, who was still rubbing the spot where Eleanor's cane had connected. "But I do want something from you, you worthless piece of garbage."

*Unbelievable. They'd completely forgotten about our deal from last night. The contact information they'd promised me in exchange for going to that dinner—it hadn't even crossed their minds. Like my end of the bargain meant nothing the moment things went wrong.*

Richard flinched at my tone. "What... what do you want?"

"The contact information for my "husband"," I said through gritted teeth. "The bastard you sold me to six years ago."

"Oh! Oh, right, yes." Richard fumbled for his phone with shaking hands. "Here, I'll send it to you right now."

I watched him type frantically, then felt my phone buzz with an incoming message. When I looked at it, I frowned.

"This is just an email address?"

Monica nodded eagerly, apparently hoping that being helpful might earn her some forgiveness.

"That's all they ever gave us," she explained. "They never looked at us directly, never treated us like we mattered. Everything was handled through email—very formal, very commanding. Like we were servants getting orders."

"Fucking elitist pricks," I muttered, but I was actually relieved. An email was better than a phone call for what I had planned.

I looked around at the three of them—Eleanor standing tall and fierce despite her age, Monica still sniveling on the floor, Richard looking like he wanted to disappear into the wallpaper.

"I don't want to see either of you until Vivian comes back to face the music," I said to my stepparents. "In fact, I don't want to see you at all."

I started toward my room, but Eleanor's voice stopped me.

"Aveline, you stay right there," she said firmly, then turned her stern gaze to Richard and Monica. "These two are the ones who need to leave."

She pointed her cane toward the door with imperious authority.

"This is my house, and I decide who stays and who goes. You two can find somewhere else to sleep until you bring that little schemer back here to apologize to my granddaughter. Maybe a night or two on the streets will help you remember which side your bread is buttered on."

Monica's sob turned into a wail, but Richard was already pulling her toward the door, apparently recognizing that arguing with Eleanor in this mood would only make things worse.

"We'll find her, Mom," he promised desperately. "We'll bring her back and sort this all out."