Dark Revenge Of A Jilted Bride: Till Life Do Us Part!-Chapter 23: Family Dinner II

Sabrina opened her mouth, lips already twisted into the familiar scolding snarl she reserved solely for Gianna, but her father’s soft, warning glare cut her off instantly.

She froze midbreath. Really? Really? They were going to sit here and wait for the nincompoop to finish her hysterical fit?

Sabrina huffed loudly, rolling her eyes as she redirected her glare at Gianna, who had now reduced her wild laughter to sharp, almost bitter chuckles.

Gianna, who shook her head intermittently, strands of damp hair brushing her cheek as if even she couldn’t believe what she’d read. Every shake seemed to say you have got to be kidding me.

The sight infuriated Sabrina further. What was so absurd? Wasn’t it a good bargain? A generous one, even?

Gianna should have been grateful, Sabrina thought, lifting her chin haughtily. Her father had taken interest in her pathetic work situation, had provided a lifeline: A better job. A stable income.

A way to maintain the lifestyle she clearly didn’t deserve. So why was she laughing like a madwoman? Why insulting her father’s generosity?

Fingers twitching with the old, familiar urge, Sabrina inched forward in her seat, ready to deliver the kind of slap she’d used to "correct" Gianna with when they were children.

But for her father’s sake, she curled her shaking hands into fists against her thighs, nails digging into skin, and waited.

"Are you people being serious right now?" Gianna’s voice floated across the table, incredulous, edged with dark humor.

Sabrina ground her teeth. Someone should slap the sense back into this woman!

She eyed the glass of water before her. Maybe she should just do what her mother had done—drench her, shut her up, remind her of where she belonged.

Her fingers brushed the cup...

But her father gave a small shake of his head, subtle but commanding.

She sucked her teeth and stamped her heel against the floor beneath the table in frustration. All of this—this humiliation, this pandering—over some meagre shares.

Why not just corner her, pressure her until she broke, force the signature out of her? Why all this civility for someone so... beneath them?

"I am not signing anything, Uncle Clement," Gianna said, breaking the silence again, voice steady like still water. "Take back your documents. I don’t need your help. I have never needed it... I won’t start now."

Her tone snapped Sabrina out of her muttered rage.

"Gianna, don’t be hardheaded," Josephine cooed sweetly, sickly sweet. "Your pride is of no use to you now. Or do you really plan to beg the Thornes?"

Gianna shook her head slowly, sliding the documents back into the envelope with infuriating grace. Her movements were calm, elegant, almost leisurely—a slap to the face of their desperation.

"I have no plans for that either," she said. "I can take care of myself. Did anyone help me build my reputation?"

Her eyes swept the table, watching silence fall like deadweight.

"No, right? I did it on my own... with the support of my friends, yes, but I did it. None of you helped me. I didn’t sell my shares then just to survive. So why do you think I’ll do it now?"

"Because you’ve tasted the high life, cousin," Sabrina snapped, voice cold. "And you want to remain there. No one wants to go back to ground zero. Father can make that possible. Just sign the documents. It doesn’t have to be difficult. After all, you haven’t shown interest in the company since Uncle’s death."

Gianna nodded slowly. "I haven’t... yes. But isn’t that because your father wouldn’t let me?"

Sabrina snorted loudly. "You misunderstand. What do you know about timber and construction? He only wanted you to pursue your love for design..."

Gianna scoffed. "Pursue my love indeed. If so, why do you want it, coz? Aren’t you a designer like me? Aren’t we both pursuing our loves?"

Sabrina’s face twisted. "This is not the time for your smart mouth!"

Gianna smiled tiredly. She was done here. The air stank of hostility and desperation. She longed for the Thornes’ mansion, for people who loved her, who didn’t twist knives into her peace.

"So you admit I have a smart mouth," she murmured, as she prepared to leave.

The taunt snapped something in Sabrina.

With a furious snarl, she snatched her glass and hurled both cup and water at Gianna.

But Gianna saw the movement instantly and jerked aside.

The glass smashed into the wall behind her, shattering loudly. Water splattered across the wallpaper, dripping in thin trails. Servants rushed in at the noise, faces startled.

In the midst of the confusion, Gianna rose to her feet.

"Thanks for dinner, Uncle," she said coolly. "Let’s not do this again."

She turned to leave...

"Gianna!" Clement’s voice thundered like an enraged bull.

She halted.

"One more step, and you will lose your job at the Becketts," he roared. "I will personally see to it. I’m not sure how they even hired a low level like you, but I will make sure you lose it. And I will make sure you’re not hired anywhere else. If you will not serve the interests of the company, then leave this country!"

Serve the interests of the company?

Gianna was too tired to even unpack that. Or the laughable notion that she was a "low level" designer. Did he not know her awards? Her acclaim?

Yes, companies might be wary of her due to the sudden collapse of Aurètes, but she wasn’t finished. She could still rebuild. She could start over. Hell, she could start her own company if it came down to it. 𝒻𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘸ℯ𝒷𝘯𝘰𝑣ℯ𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝘮

Clement exhaled then, misreading her silence. "Good. You know where you stand. Now sit back and let’s talk about the documents."

Her pause... he thought it was fear? What a joke.

Without turning to acknowledge any of their smug, scornful expressions, Gianna walked out.

Their shocked silence was music to her ears.

At the front door though, just as she reached for the handle, she heard Josephine’s sharp voice. "Who does she think she is?"

A lioness, Gianna answered silently, walking out of the house.

A lioness who would no longer swallow disrespect. No longer bend. No longer shrink. She would go after what she wanted. She would fight for it. And she will get it.

No more tentative moves, only daring ones. She would rise to the top of her field. And then, maybe, she would come for the company too.

The thought made her laugh softly as she unlocked her car. Best not to push it. What did she know about running a corporation?

She got in, started the engine, and pulled into the road. Her thoughts, as always, drifted back to the convention—the next mountain before her.

Her designs were coming together beautifully, but still needed polishing. In two weeks, she would be ready. She had to be. And she had to win.

The fantasy of it simmered in her mind—bright, intoxicating—and she pressed harder on the accelerator, speeding into the night.