Chapter 7

Laurelle bent down and lifted her dress to expose the horrific scar on her ankle. There was an audible inhale by the crowd. "Yet, why is no one displaying any concern about whether I'll be sad?" Laurelle caressed her scar. Today was a rainy day, and the wound was throbbing with a dull ache. Thankfully, she'd gotten used to it a long time ago. "I've always been curious as to which one of you paid my cellmates to give them the audacity to treat me like that. I've got more than ten wounds across my body. Would anyone like to take a peek?" Those people had said that Maverick had paid them, but Laurelle didn't believe it. She wanted to find the culprit right now, in front of everyone. Pity crossed the faces of the rich young ladies present. After all, young ladies from families such as theirs had been pampered growing up. They had never gone through something like this. "Was it you?" Laurelle glanced at William and Leona before turning back to Bianca and continuing, "Or was it you?" At the end, her eyes swept over Maverick before looking away again. When Maverick saw Laurelle expose her scar, an indescribable feeling seized him. Now that she no longer seemed to care about him, his heart ached. For so many years, Laurelle had followed him around without a second thought. He'd gotten used to it a long time ago… "Laurelle, I'm begging you. Please stop talking. If it's what you want, I can let you be the sole daughter of the Fletcher family," interjected Bianca as she put her hands over her head. "It's all my fault. Everything was my fault. I shouldn't have remained in this family shamelessly. I should've died in the wilderness when I was abducted three years ago. "What does your suffering in jail have to do with Mom, Dad, or me? Prison is filled with evil people. The only person who can be blamed for it is you. You committed a crime and got jailed for it. That's why they bullied you." Bianca's nose was tinged red while tears shimmered in her eyes. They clung to her eyelashes, unwilling to fall. "Maverick, you should never have saved me. You should've left me to die." In a few sentences, Bianca rid herself of any responsibility, making it clear that Laurelle's torment in prison had nothing to do with her. Laurelle stared back at Bianca. "Someone who really wanted to die wouldn't have said that." "Laurelle!" Maverick frowned and pulled Bianca behind him. He patted her hand in a consoling manner. Then, he turned around to speak to Laurelle. "I remember telling you to think before speaking on the way here. Don't you know the consequences of your actions today?" Laurelle smiled bitterly. She was in pieces. She'd exposed her ugliest scar to a room full of people, but Maverick saw it as nothing but a fuss. "Yes, I'm making a fuss out of nothing. But you're my fiancé; shouldn't you be on my side? Why are you taking another woman's side, Maverick?" Everyone realized what was off after Laurelle's reminder. That was right. Wasn't Maverick Laurelle's fiancé? Yet, he'd been speaking up for Bianca from beginning to end. Some had caught wind of what had been going on during Laurelle's years in jail. Recently, the Grays' company, Westwind Group, had submitted many proposals in response to the Fletchers' Excel Group's invitation to collaborate with them. It would've been nothing out of the ordinary to see them doing business together. However, Maverick and Bianca had appeared together in too many situations. Yet, no one had considered this possibility before. After all, Bianca and Laurelle were sisters. Wealthy families like theirs cared about saving face the most—everyone wanted to preserve their reputation. No one would dare to be caught in a scandal by stealing their sister's fiancé. But Laurelle's words had gotten everyone thinking. Were there really sparks flying between Maverick and Bianca? Had the sister gotten with her future brother-in-law? This was a scene straight out of a soap opera. Despite the cliche, it still ignited the curiosity of the women present. Between such prestigious families, gossip was never far away. However, new pieces of gossip emerged far and few between, not to mention that this had to do with the Fletchers and the Grays. Laurelle smirked, her eyes glinting. The emotions she'd been suppressing for years finally erupted. She grabbed the decanter and asked, "So you're accusing me of drugging you?" Then, she took a huge swig and said, "Fine. I drugged myself. Are you happy now?" The alcohol burned her throat. Due to the huge mouth of the decanter, rivulets of wine spilled onto her dress. After drinking a few more gulps, she smashed the decanter before Bianca. The sound reverberated through the hall while shards rained down upon every inch of the floor. The decanter had shattered, and so had Laurelle.