Fidelia shuddered, the memory making her instinctively shake her head and bite her lip. “No! I don’t want to!”
The last time she’d been punished and made to kneel, she’d ended up with a fever, rambling nonsense all night, her back aching so badly she thought she might just die. Now that she’d finally recovered, she had no desire to go through that ordeal again.
“Exactly!” Fowler nodded, his tone firm. Then he added, “Even if you really hate Effie and want to do something to her, you can’t make it obvious, understand?”
“Dad… I thought you…”
“Thought what? That I’m so magnanimous I’d just let someone bully my own daughter?” Fowler let out a low laugh, his expression turning a little sinister. “Now’s not the time. We’ll deal with this later.”
“Okay, Dad, I understand.” Fidelia, tears and snot streaming down her face, immediately tried to throw herself into Fowler’s arms for comfort.
But Fowler wrinkled his nose and pushed her away in disgust. “Come on now, that’s filthy.”
Marcia had been married to Fowler for years; she knew exactly what was going through his mind.
She said gently to Fidelia, “Sweetheart, wipe your face first—get those tears and that nose cleaned up.”
But before Fidelia could move, Fowler interjected, “No, don’t wipe anything. You’re going to walk in there just like this. That way, your grandfather will see you and feel sorry for you, understand?”
His words snapped everyone to attention. Marcia nodded quickly. “Right, don’t wipe them away. In fact, you should keep thinking about sad things all the way back—keep those tears flowing. Let everyone see just how much you’ve suffered.”
Fidelia nodded solemnly, determined to follow the plan.
Soon, the whole family returned to the main hall.
Charis muttered under her breath, “What’s it got to do with us?”
Bancroft slammed his hand on the table, making the tea set rattle with a loud clang. Everyone jumped at the sound.
Charis felt her heart leap into her throat, especially when she caught the sharp, knife-like glance Bancroft shot her way.
Bancroft’s voice was icy. “Some people around here had better not get too full of themselves. Don’t forget, the Etheridge family is one unit—our honor and shame are shared. We’ve never had a tradition of splitting up and going our own ways. If any of you are thinking about starting your own branch, don’t bother telling me—just leave. As far as I’m concerned, I never had a son by that name.”
His words sobered the room instantly.
This was precisely why no one dared fight for power openly—they were all bound by the Etheridge family’s rules. The old man might claim to have stepped back from the business, but everyone knew he was still the backbone of the family. Whatever he said, they listened.
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