Dark Revenge Of A Jilted Bride: Till Life Do Us Part!-Chapter 46: Interference

Just like the old man to come here, Gianna mused, a smile slithering across her lips as she watched old Mr. Thorne open the sleek car’s door and step out with an amused expression softening the fine lines around his eyes.

"Surprise!" he whisper-yelled, opening his arms wide without the slightest concern for the stares or attention he was garnering.

This was the patriarch of the Thorne family after all—he walked as if the world itself should make room for him.

Gianna rolled her eyes, but a laugh slipped out anyway as she walked into his waiting arms, breathing in deeply his familiar scent of musk—of home—her arms nestling warmly around his back.

"Would have preferred to meet you at home..." she said after they had broken the hug and exchanged pleasantries, her voice laced with affectionate complaint.

Her eyes ran to the four cars that followed the one he had come with, and she held back a sigh, especially as he scoffed.

"Good I came... so that Beckett would be careful with his treatment of you..." he muttered, chin lifting with protective pride.

She chuckled, shooing him gently into the car as more staff came out to see Edward Thorne himself. "I have told you that the treatment has been great so far, Gramps. Now, get in, let’s go."

He grumbled under his breath—which she found ridiculously cute—but he still tucked himself inside the car with a huff.

She followed suit, pouting a little as she shut the door after her. "You know I can really take care of myself."

Old Mr. Thorne nodded once before instructing the driver to take them to the Aldo house. "I know, Gianna. I just came to see you, and where you work... no protection or interference given..."

Gianna shook her head tiredly, knowing she wasn’t going to win this argument. Hadn’t he just said he had come so that Beckett would take care to treat her well? Wasn’t that some sort of interference?

Albeit, she was happy that he was going with her to the Aldo place. It would make banter with her family less—almost non-existent. They would think twice before saying a word.

"You look exhausted..." old Mr. Thorne commented moments later, watching her with that keen, grandfatherly scrutiny that saw far too much.

"As much as you are keen to win the prize at the convention, please take it easy, my dear... have you eaten today?"

Gianna nodded. "I will take it easy, Gramps." She promised, holding back on telling him about the collection she was hoping for approval on.

Who knew what he would say then? He and Florence?

They would probably send her meals every two hours while making sure Lottie never let her overwork herself. They usually had a way of doing these things.

"Good."

Thirty minutes later, they finally arrived at the Aldo mansion.

"Hasn’t changed much..." old Mr. Thorne muttered while stepping out of the car, his tone dipped in nostalgia.

Gianna’s brows furrowed. "You have been here before?"

Old Mr. Thorne nodded. "Your mother hosted dinners sometimes—parties—considering her role in the charity organization. I attended a few times. I think I saw you around once... curious little thing then."

Gianna chuckled sadly, shutting the door with a soft thud.

When she came to stand beside him, he tapped her arm gently, knowing without being told that she was battling with a couple of good memories.

"Rest in the knowledge that they loved you, and they wish the best of you, highly proud of you too..."

Gianna’s smile was strained at the edges. "Thank you, old man." She exhaled, steadying herself. "Let’s go in then, shall we..."

Beside them were three guards who would be helping move the valuable items to one of the cottages in the Thorne estate.

The butler welcomed them respectfully into the sitting room.

"Please have seats, while I inform Mr. Aldo that you are here..." he said, bowing slightly as he hurried out of the room, his steps quick and almost panicked as he climbed the stairs.

He first met Sabrina, who was chewing on a cake in the hallway, a little plate in her hand, a fork still in her mouth.

She frowned when she saw him—specifically when she saw the anxiety tightening his features.

"Why are you looking like that?"

The butler instantly paused, though reluctance flashed in the lines of his face. "Old Mr. Thorne is here."

Sabrina’s frown deepened. "You mean Sir Edward Thorne?"

The butler gave a quick nod. "He is with Miss Gianna. I want to inform Sir Arthur of their presence..."

Sabrina flicked her hand for him to continue forward, then her feet spun her around toward her mother’s room.

"Mother!" she called, opening the door without knocking.

Josephine, who was applying the finishing touches to her makeup for an evening date with her socialite friends, cocked a brow at the rude interruption—and at the worry thickening her daughter’s voice.

"What is the matter, Rina?"

Sabrina inhaled sharply, pointing down the hallway. "That bitch came here with old Mr. Thorne!"

The brush Josephine held—poised to fan powder across her face—wavered, then dropped onto the table with a soft clatter.

"What did you say?" she asked slowly as she rose to her feet, spine stiffening.

"Sir Edward Thorne is here!"

Josephine’s breath caught. "Where is your father?"

"The butler has gone to inform him. What do we do? Should we go downstairs?"

Josephine took deep breaths to steady herself while thinking of this strange, unwelcome matter.

They had thought Gianna would come alone. It would be easier to dispose of her, to appeal to her should she notice the discrepancies in the properties...

But, with the presence of old Mr. Thorne...

Josephine dragged in another breath, then picked up the brush again. "Wait for me, so I can be done with this. Of course we are going to meet him."

Old Mr. Thorne wasn’t someone you dismissed lightly. As a matter of fact—you didn’t dismiss him at all.

There were consequences for such foolishness. And she couldn’t meet him without looking her best.

"Tell the staff to prepare some snacks or something... is the cake still remaining?"

Sabrina shrugged helplessly. How was she supposed to know?

"Well get going then! The earlier the better. Tell them to make it sophisticated... or..." Josephine gestured sharply with her hands, frustration bubbling.

Why hadn’t that stupid orphan told them she was coming with the patriarch of the Thorne family? Had she sought to destabilize them?

She barely noticed Sabrina leaving the room with a frown as she cussed again under her breath.

Gianna would pay for this, she vowed, the brush strokes growing intense on her almost-plastic face.

Meanwhile, Clement was pacing the length and breadth of his study.

"What do you mean that old Mr. Thorne is here..." His voice trembled with disbelief.

The last time the old man had stepped foot in the house was over six years ago, at one of those dinner parties Karen had organized. So why was he here now?

Did Gianna have that much power?

If so...

He paused, staring into space as a thought coiled into shape. Maybe he could utilize it?

Keep petty revenge aside for now and utilize this relationship that fortune had placed at his doorstep.

A smile touched his lips. Maybe this was the connection he had been waiting for.

If the Thornes sided with his business—as goodwill to Gianna—surely the tables would turn. He could even let Gianna keep her shares.

He rubbed his hands together now, tension easing from his shoulders as he strolled out of his study, a plan already concocting in his mind.

The joy that came with well-laid plans threatened to disappear, though, when he stepped into the living room and noticed the stilted atmosphere.

He looked at his wife and daughter sitting stiffly, their hands tucked into their thighs, and wondered if they had said anything detrimental to this meeting.

He hoped not. He really hoped not.

Plastering a wider smile on his lips, he turned to old Mr. Thorne, who had been studying him all this while.

"What a nice surprise, Mr. Thorne! It’s a pleasure to have you under my roof..." he said enthusiastically as he hurried toward the latter, leaning forward with both hands outstretched for a handshake.

But old Mr. Thorne didn’t acknowledge it.

"Is this how you treat your visitors? Keep them waiting, then send them leftover cake to eat?"

It was then Clement noticed the tray of cake on the table—one the maid had baked earlier today. It didn’t look bad, and even the arrangement was top-notch.

How did the old man know it was leftovers?

His attention shifted when Gianna tsked and shook her head. "I would understand if I was the one given this shady treatment, but to old Mr. Thorne... head of the Thorne family..."

She shook her head again, voice rising. "That’s tantamount to treason!"

Sabrina jerked at the sheer force with which Gianna ended the sentence. Then she gritted her teeth, unable to tear her eyes away from Gianna’s hand clasped confidently in old Mr. Thorne’s.

Sabrina wanted that closeness too—wanted that tight-knit relationship. Why didn’t she have any?

Her friends were socialites, yes, but they weren’t trustworthy; they chewed each other out the moment backs were turned.

But Gianna... why did she get all the good things? All the good connections?

Sabrina was starting to fume. What did Gianna have that she didn’t have? How did she get these friends?

How do I get these relationships, these men to like me?

Sabrina was desperate. She could grovel if need be!