“Who dares bully my daughter?!”
Mrs. Rayburn burst into the room, hurling the doll in her hand straight at Ilse and her daughter.
“Auntie!” Charlotte grabbed Mrs. Rayburn’s arm, trying to hold her back.
“Ugh! Wicked women, wicked women!” Mrs. Rayburn shrieked, flinging another plush toy.
Genevieve and her mother stumbled backward as the barrage continued. Finally, Genevieve snapped, her patience gone. “You crazy old bat—are you insane?”
“Genevieve, show some respect for my mother,” Wesley’s normally gentle tone turned frosty, an unmistakable edge beneath his words. “Don’t think just because you’re the Howard family heiress I won’t deal with you.”
Mother…
Genevieve’s face went pale. “She… she’s Mrs. Rayburn?”
It was Ilse’s first time meeting the infamous Mrs. Rayburn, and she was genuinely taken aback. Despite being nearly fifty, the woman was still breathtaking—a beauty untouched by time, her features elegant and striking.
Rumor had it that Mrs. Rayburn wasn’t right in the head, but even so, she was the only woman Sean Rayburn had ever loved.
Years ago, there’d been a scandal in Eldermere: some wealthy socialite, thinking Mrs. Rayburn was just a pretty fool, had tried to take advantage of her. The very next day, that man disappeared—vanished without a trace. In the city’s upper circles, no one dared disrespect Mrs. Rayburn, no matter what they whispered about her mental state. Her husband adored her, her son cherished her, and even the Rayburn grandparents never showed a hint of disdain.
Ilse had always thought the gossip was exaggerated. Seeing Mrs. Rayburn now, she finally believed it.
“Mrs. Rayburn, I think you’ve misunderstood us. Genevieve and I mean no harm.” Ilse put on her warmest smile, hoping to bridge the distance.
But before she could even take a step forward, Mrs. Rayburn snatched up another toy and hurled it at her. “Stay away from me! Wicked woman! You dare bully my daughter? I don’t like you!”
“Auntie, it’s alright—let’s not throw things anymore,” Charlotte soothed gently, only stepping in after Mrs. Rayburn’s armful of toys was depleted.
It wasn’t that Charlotte felt sorry for the Howards. She just didn’t want Mrs. Rayburn to pick up such a bad habit—kids copied everything adults did.
After being calmed down by Charlotte, Mrs. Rayburn immediately clung to her. “Sweetheart, I don’t like them! Make them leave, please!”
Ilse frowned but swallowed her anger, her tone forcedly polite. “I apologize. We’re intruding—perhaps another day would be better for a visit.”
“Mom…” Genevieve was reluctant to leave, but the glare Ilse shot her left no room for argument. She pouted, wanting to protest, but couldn’t. All she could do was blame everything on Charlotte.
Once the two women had left, Wesley and Charlotte walked Mrs. Rayburn back to her room. Charlotte glanced at her watch—it was already two o’clock. “Mr. Rayburn, I need to get back to the hospital.”
“I’ll drive you,” Wesley offered.
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