I Stopped Loving Him When He Let Me Bleed Out novel Chapter 69

A suffocating silence crashed over the room, so absolute that the ticking of the antique grandfather clock echoed like gunshots.

Yolanda slowly lowered her teacup and settled back against the cushions.

Her regal expression didn't shift, but her manicured finger twitched against the porcelain rim.

"Finn. You're home early. You should have called ahead," Yolanda reprimanded smoothly. "Our guests are here. Come say hello."

Finn didn't move a muscle.

His glacial stare swept over every terrified woman in the room before locking onto his mother with lethal intent.

He remained completely silent, but the sheer, homicidal violence radiating from him was paralyzing.

Yolanda's practiced smile thinned.

"What is the matter with you? Who upset you?"

Finn finally closed the distance, stopping dead in front of the glass coffee table.

He stared down at the priceless, antique porcelain tea set—Yolanda's absolute favorite collection.

Slowly, methodically, he reached out, wrapped his large hand around the teapot, and hoisted it high into the air.

Then, he opened his fingers.

The heavy porcelain plummeted, exploding against the marble floor in a catastrophic shower of sharp fragments.

The violent crash ripped through the hushed room like a grenade, fracturing the fragile social veneer beyond repair.

The high-society wives shrieked in horror, practically recoiling into the upholstery.

Finn wasn't finished.

He grabbed the delicate teacups, one by one, and hurled them violently onto the stone tiles.

*Smash. Smash. Smash.* Each shattering impact rang out like a brutal, open-handed slap across Yolanda's face.

The terrified socialites sat paralyzed, clutching their own teacups with shaking hands, too afraid to move an inch.

Chloe's brush hung uselessly in midair, black ink dripping uncontrollably onto her masterpiece, ruining hours of agonizing work. She didn't dare try to save it; her wrist was shaking uncontrollably.

Once the final teacup was reduced to dust, Finn straightened his massive frame and stared dead into his mother's eyes.

"You were the one who texted Julian."

It wasn't a question. It was a death sentence.

Yolanda's perfectly sculpted brow gave the faintest twitch.

She had ruled the Fletcher empire as its matriarch for four decades.

Ruthless composure and absolute dignity were permanently fused to her DNA.

Yolanda stared at him, letting a heavy silence drag out before an elegant laugh slipped from her lips.

It was a patronizing, sickeningly tolerant sound—a mother humoring a toddler throwing a tantrum.

"Finn, I'll overlook this little outburst because you are clearly unwell right now. I refuse to stoop to this barbaric level of arguing."

"Answer the damn question!" Finn roared, his voice stripping the velvet from the walls.

Even with a heart forged from pure iron, Yolanda flinched at the raw hatred radiating from her own son.

She turned her head, casting a seemingly casual, yet terrifyingly sharp glance toward Chloe.

Then, she spoke with silky slowness.

"I have absolutely no idea what ridiculous text message you're raging about. Do you honestly believe I have the time to orchestrate petty internet drama?"

Catching the horrific warning in Yolanda's eyes, Chloe began shaking violently.

The older woman's previous threat echoed paralyzingly in her skull.

*Pull this off, and you secure your place as my daughter-in-law. Fail, and you will never see York again.*

Her teeth chattered audibly, her hands crushing the expensive fabric of her dress in absolute terror.

In the dead center of the explosive showdown between mother and son, Chloe dragged her leaden feet forward.