"She did all this for the Carmens-she admitted herself that she set me and Uncle Rupert up, and when she seeded, the Garcias practically belonged to the Carmens. All she ever cared about was her own family."
A wave of murmurs rippled through the room.
"Can you believe it? It was her who wrecked Rupert and Sylvia," someone whispered.
"Makes sense now. She was the one who organized that seafood dinner- tampering with the food would''ve been a piece of cake for her. No one even suspected."
"Seriously, does she think the Carmens are still the same powerhouse they were twenty years ago?"
The whispers broke down what littleposure Fiona had left.
She looked frail and sickly, like a puppet with its strings cut, copsing right onto the floor.
Her fists clenched weakly. "Is it so wrong to fight for my family? Tristan only agreed to marry me because of my family''s influence! When we started going downhill, he didn''t lift a finger to help. All he did was nitpick and criticize. This is all his fault!"
Fiona red up at Tristan, who sat at the head of the table.
"Enough! Why would I help you? Your brother''s a lost cause-helping you would be a waste." Tristan''s voice boomed, full of disdain.
"A waste?" Fiona gave a bitter, shakyugh, tasting blood in her mouth. "Ha... in the end, we''re all just pawns in someone''s game."
Tristan shot a look at the butler, waving a hand dismissively. "Take her out. I won''t have her spreading nonsense in front of everyone."
The butler nodded and had the maids help Fiona out of the room.
Warren sat in the corner, his mind spinning in a haze.
When Tristan nced his way, there was a flicker of contempt in his eyes.
He took the fresh cup of coffee the maid handed him, flicked the lid aside, and said solemnly, "Fiona''s been ill for a while. Clearly, she''s just rambling."
"Yes, sir,” everyone murmured in agreement, bowing their heads.
Satisfied, Tristan''s expression softened, but his eyes hardened again when he looked at the mother and daughter sitting quietly to the side.
"Patrick, you''re back now. Deal with these outsiders-give them some money and send them off. There''s no point taking in just anyone. As for Fiona, we''ll say she''s been sent abroad for treatment. We have a reputation to uphold."
Patrick gave a coldugh. "Who said I came back for good? My name is Miles Garcia now, and I''d rather be as far from this ce as possible. If Edwin hadn''t told me about the mess with Rupert and Warren, I''d never have set foot here again."
"Are you insane?" Tristan snapped, voice rising.
"Maybe! I''m done with the so-called glory built on backstabbing and lies! And you don''t even get me started on you." He pointed at the memorial shelf, voice trembling with fury "What right do you have to put my mother''s photo up there?"
Sylvia followed Patrick''s gaze, noticing the old portrait for the first time. She instinctively nced at Rupert.
Rupert stared at his mother''s picture, hands clenched so tightly on the armrest his knuckles had turned red.
Tristan started to rise, as if to intervene, but Patrick didn''t care anymore.
"Why are all you elders so quiet? Embarrassed, aren''t you?"
He red down the line of older rtives, all of them with grey beards and grim faces.
Patrick strode over to Warren. "You think just because you''re healthy, you''re entitled to inherit the Garcia family business? No. I''m not the rightful heir, and neither are you! Edwin doesn''t qualify, either!"
Warren looked up, bewildered.
Patrick''s words were icy. "Because the only legitimate heir in this family is Rupert. Me, Edwin-we''re just the children of this man''s mistresses! None of us have any real im!"
"He dragged us back here, made my mother publicly ept us as her sons, iming she couldn''t have more children of her own!"
"Why did she risk her life to have another child in middle age? Because she couldn''t swallow the humiliation!"
"She was the gentlest woman you could meet, but just because she couldn''t have
a baby, everyone told her to suck it up for the sake of appearances."
Patrick turned on Tristan again, his anger zing.