A Wedding Night Gone Terribly Wrong novel Chapter 110

"Got a taste of how hard life is and came crawling right back? Realized how good my son is and came begging for forgiveness?"

The bedroom door creaked open, and Albert poked his head out, his phone still displaying an intense mahjong game. He jumped in surprise. "Winifred? Why are you back?"

Then, the gears turned in his head. His bushy eyebrows shot up, and he urgently yanked on Eleanor's sleeve. "Go watch your show. Seriously, go watch TV!"

Winifred ignored them both, slipping on the shoe covers and heading straight up the stairs.

Eleanor shrieked at her back. "Why are you stopping me?! Quentin finally got rid of this dead weight, and now she's back!"

Albert hissed in a frantic whisper, "Think about the bigger picture! The clinic has been an absolute disaster the last few days. People are demanding refunds, starting fights! Yesterday afternoon, someone literally called the cops because their arm was paralyzed after a treatment!"

Eleanor slumped back onto the sofa. Fine. If Quentin actually needed Winifred to salvage his business, she could hold her tongue and not physically throw her out today. But she wasn't going to hold back forever. Quentin was in his thirties—men his age already had kids in elementary school. He needed to get married. As long as Winifred and her brats were squatting in their house, they were ruining Quentin's chances at finding a real wife.

Winifred came back down the stairs holding a small paper bag. Eleanor glared at her from across the room, her face twisted in a bizarre mix of desperate need and absolute disgust. She looked at Winifred the way a farmer looks at an old plow horse—necessary for the heavy lifting and bringing in the cash, but ultimately a defective, annoying burden.

As Winifred reached the bottom step, Eleanor couldn't hold it in anymore and started barking orders.

"You think you can just rely on my son to protect you forever? Have you forgotten you're a divorced woman who birthed Holden's bastard kids? How is my son supposed to look past that? But since you've come crawling back, let me make a few things clear. You will continue to tutor Larissa and her sister, and you will pay their tuition. You will handle all the household groceries. We're out of farm-fresh eggs, so call the supplier right now and have them delivered. And fire the current maid. We're from the South, and we can't stand the garbage northern food she cooks. Oh, and Sharon's youngest, Caden, is moving in to go to kindergarten here. You need to go talk to the director and get him enrolled immediately."

Winifred simply opened the front door and walked out.

Eleanor shrieked after her. "Relationships are a two-way street! We put a roof over your head and tolerate those kids you had with your ex, so you better start pulling your weight!"

"Yes, it is," Winifred said, walking over to hand it to her.

Declan leaned back in his chair, eyeing the bottle with a sleazy smirk. "What is that stuff? It's more popular than Viagra."

Paige immediately chimed in. "That spray is supposedly a miracle cure."

She pouted slightly. Dr. Shultz had taken entirely too long to get here. It was already lunchtime. Paige had deliberately hidden in her room to avoid the crossfire, only to be dragged back out for the family meal. No wonder Nelly was replacing her. The doctor was slow, inconvenient, and incredibly annoying.

Declan clicked his tongue, a filthy grin spreading across his face. "Cures the hips, huh? Hell, maybe it can cure me too." He aggressively leaned back, thrusting his crotch forward against the edge of the table, making a spectacle of himself right in front of Winifred. "Hey, Dr. Shultz! I've been impotent for ages. Why don't you cure me?"