Ophelia Gets Thrown Out (Ophelia) novel Chapter 75

Chapter 75

Chapter 75

Ophelia’s gaze sharpened as it landed on Zoe. “If you’re so concerned about him, pick up the phone and ask him yourself.”

If Zoe had approached her with genuine courtesy, Ophelia might have offered a civil response.

But this constant performance of wounded vulnerability and deliberate pushing at her boundaries was exhausting.

Zoe’s face paled. “That’s not what I meant,” she protested, her voice growing faint.

“Then what exactly did you mean?” Ophelia pressed, her tone sharp with impatience. “Do you need his condition to be filtered through me? Is that it?”

The question felt less like genuine concern and more like a calculated probe into her relationship with Alaric, a subtle reminder that Zoe’s engagement to him had never been formally dissolved.

But as far as Ophelia was concerned, that had nothing to do with her.

“I only asked because I heard you’d visited him,” Zoe explained, her words rushed.

“If your concern is for him, address it directly. If it’s for me, save your breath.” Ophelia had no patience for these carefully staged scenes.

Zoe adopted a wounded expression. “We’re sisters. I’m just trying to care about you. If you don’t want me asking about your life, I’ll stop.”

Her performance as the misunderstood, self-sacrificing sibling was flawless.

Dylan finally spoke up, his voice laced with irritation. “Zoe, if you truly cared about Ophelia, you wouldn’t be badgering her the moment she sits down to dinner.”

“I only wanted to show I care.” Tears welled in Zoe’s eyes on cue. “Is it wrong to show concern for my own sister?”

“This isn’t about right or wrong,” Dylan replied, his tone firm. “It’s about respect. If your version of care consistently causes distress, then it isn’t care at all. It’s intrusion.”

“I…” Zoe fell silent, her lips pressed into a tight line. There was nothing left to say.

“Zoe, if you were truly concerned about Ophelia, you’d be asking how she is doing,” Owen interjected, his youthful voice cutting through the tension. “But all your questions are about Mr. Caldwell. Don’t you find that strange?”

He met her gaze squarely, adding with blunt honesty, “It makes your concern seem rather insincere.”

“Owen,” Victoria chided, her tone firm. “Mind your manners.”

Owen merely shrugged, entirely unrepentant.

Victoria sighed in mild exasperation. “Keep that up, and you’ll be eating vegetables for the next three days. No

meat.”

That achieved the desired effect. “Alright, I’ll behave,” Owen conceded promptly.

Satisfied, Victoria turned her attention to Zoe. “Zoe, pay him no mind. I’ll speak with him later.”

“It’s fine, Mom. I know he didn’t mean it,” Zoe replied, forcing a smile to mask her humiliation. Owen’s directness had felt like a public slap.

“But I did mean it,” Owen clarified, his expression turning serious. “Maybe I used the wrong words, and I’m sorry for that. But I don’t think what I said was wrong. You should think about it.”

Zoe’s already pale complexion turned ashen.

She clenched her jaw, managing a tight response. “Very well. I’ll reflect on it.”

“In that case, I apologize for my tone,” Owen said. Despite his youth, he possessed a clear sense of principle.

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Chapter 75

A faint smile touched Ophelia’s lips at her brother’s earnest demeanor.

“Shall we eat?” she suggested, deftly steering the conversation away from the conflict.

Victoria glanced at Zoe, whose expression had smoothed into neutrality. Assuming the matter was settled, she nodded. “Yes, let’s begin.”

As the meal progressed, Dylan turned to Ophelia. “There’s a charity gala with a performance tomorrow. Would you be interested?”

“A charity gala?” Ophelia inquired. “Are you performing?”

“I am. I’ve been invited to play,” he confirmed. “I could take you with me if you’d like.”

Adrian looked up from his plate. “Why don’t you represent the family, Ophelia? I received an invitation but cannot attend.”

“Alright, I’ll go,” Ophelia agreed after a moment’s consideration. While such events weren’t typically her preference, she had the time.

“Can I come too?” Owen asked, his face bright with hope.

Before Ophelia could respond, Dylan gently refused. “Sorry, Owen. We only have the one invitation.”

“Alright.” Owen’s face fell.

Zoe, who had been on the verge of making the same request, swallowed her words. The opportunity had vanished before she could even voice her desire.

She stared down at the lavish spread before her, her appetite gone.

As the others chatted and laughed, sharing a family from which she felt utterly excluded, a sharp, familiar bitterness twisted inside her.

‘This should all be mine, she thought, the old resentment surging with fresh intensity.

‘If only Ophelia had never come back. Why did she have to return? She never should have come home.’

*****

The following day, Ophelia arrived punctually at the Dunhollow Vena Concert Hall, the venue for the charity gala.

Dylan was already waiting, having anticipated Ophelia’s arrival.

As she stepped from the vehicle, the simple elegance of her black gown commanded attention despite its understated design.

A subtle murmur rippled through the crowd gathering at the entrance.

“Who is that?”

“Must be from one of the prominent families.”

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