Chapter 13

Chapter13

Eleanor let out a sharp laugh at Olivia's snide remark. Olivia's smug expression faltered, her lips curling into a frown. "What's so funny?" she snapped.

"Ms. Davenport, maybe you should pick up a book or two. Being both rude and clueless? That's a dangerous combination for someone who already looks like a villain in a bad soap opera." Eleanor, who had been holding back earlier, now let her sarcasm fly freely.

Olivia's face darkened. As Eleanor tried to step past her, Olivia lunged forward, grabbing a fistful of Eleanor's hair. "How dare you, you backwater nobody! Who do you think you are, marrying into the Carters? You're nothing but a gold digger!"

But before Olivia could finish her tirade, Eleanor's hand shot out, delivering a crisp slap across her face. Olivia staggered back, stunned, then let out a shriek and launched herself at Eleanor.

In the chaos that followed, Isabella stumbled into a glass wall—whether she was accidentally shoved by Olivia or deliberately threw herself into it was unclear. She collapsed to the floor, clutching her arm as blood dripped down her sleeve. Passersby gasped, and Isabella burst into tears, her wide eyes fixed on Eleanor. "Eleanor, it hurts!" she whimpered.

"Eleanor!" A voice rang out from the end of the corridor. Before Isabella could get up, Margaret rushed over, her face pale with worry. "What happened to Isabella? Is she okay?"

"Mom," Isabella called weakly.

Margaret didn't wait for Eleanor's explanation. She immediately knelt beside Isabella, her hands trembling as she inspected the bloodied bandage on her daughter's arm. "How did this happen? Does it hurt?" she cried.

"The doctor stitched it up. It doesn't hurt much," Isabella said, forcing a smile. "Mom, why are you back so early? I thought you weren't coming home until next week. Where's Dad?"

"I came back early because I was worried about you. Your father's still away on business." Margaret's frown deepened as she examined the wound. "I should've come back sooner. You've been in the hospital twice in the past two weeks!"

Then, Margaret turned to Eleanor, her expression hardening. But before she could speak, Isabella cut in. "Mom, it's not Eleanor's fault. I hurt myself because I wasn't paying attention. Really."

"Don't defend her, Isabella. I've heard everything. Eleanor, how could you get into a brawl at the mall? You're Mrs. Carter now! Your behavior reflects on the Carters and the Thompsons. When are you going to shed those country habits?"

Eleanor sat silently through the tirade, her fists clenched at her sides. She was used to Margaret's favoritism, but the constant digs at her upbringing still stung. She knew better than to argue back—Margaret would only accuse her of being rebellious and blame it on her "country roots."

"Since you're here, I'll take my leave," Eleanor said finally, standing up. "I have work to do, and I can't look after Isabella properly. Please take her home today."

Without waiting for a response, Eleanor turned and walked away, her shoulders stiff with suppressed anger.",