Chapter 126
Sunlight streamed through the carved window lattice, casting intricate patterns across the hall. Evelyn Roland squinted slightly—the scene felt eerily familiar. Half a year ago, she'd stood in this very spot after catching Vincent Lowell with Isabella Langley.
In her past life, she'd despised these aristocratic dramas. Now, she was the unwilling protagonist.
According to the original plot, she should've been the adored wife. But the author's last-minute revisions had turned her into a doormat.
"My dear, such theatrics are unbecoming," the Dowager murmured, stroking her teacup like one might soothe a child. "Vincent merely attended business at the Moulin Rouge. Must you overreact?"
Evelyn nearly laughed aloud. With three sentences, the old vixen had reframed her divorce as petty jealousy.
"Your memory fails you, madam." She stifled a theatrical yawn. "The Emperor himself sanctioned my divorce. Are you questioning imperial decree?"
The porcelain trembled in the Dowager's grip. Evelyn noted the whitened knuckles clutching the armrest.
"Outrageous!" Vincent slammed the table. "How dare you disrespect Mother!"
Evelyn eyed this mama's boy. In the original story, she'd mistaken his obedience for virtue. What blindness.
"Such filial piety! Why not adopt every widow in the capital?" Her lips curled. "It's clearly your specialty."
Vincent's face purpled like a strangled rooster.
The Dowager massaged her temples. "Men taking concubines is natural. Vincent waited three years to bring Isabella home—that was consideration."
The gaslighting was textbook. Her former CEO had used identical tactics—blame the employee, never the company.
"Quite right." Evelyn nodded sweetly. "So I graciously stepped aside. How very... accommodating of me."
The Dowager's eyes gleamed. Vincent jutted his chin. "Beg the Emperor's pardon, and I'll forgive this folly."
"Perjury?" Evelyn clutched imaginary pearls. "How thoughtful—inheriting my dowry requires my execution first."
The Dowager's sleeve twitched. Bullseye.
Perfumed air announced Isabella's entrance. "Please don't blame Sister!" She fluttered in, tear-stained. "This is all my fault—"
Evelyn smirked. The scripted lines, the dramatic timing—what a consummate White Lotus.