Chapter 342
The room seemed entirely frozen for a terrible, long moment. Then, Mr. Hatfield Senior took a step toward us and everything started moving again,
The closer Senior became, the more everyone else seemed to inch away from us. When he finally reached us, it was akin to a wild west standoff. The tensions d.
“Logan,” Senior said. “Ms. Whitaker.
“She’s Mrs. Hatfield now,” Logan said.
Senior narrowed his gaze. “Odd that you wish to give your wife a name that you do not value.”
“I value my heritage,” Logan said. “I’m proud of my family. I was even proud of you, for a time. Until recently.”
“You have a poor way of showing your appreciation.” Material © NôvelDrama.Org.
“It is difficult to appreciate anyone who cannot accept my wife,” Logan said.
Senior shifted his gaze to me. He glanced down at my dress. “I’m surprised you found a designer willing to dress you, given your reputation.”
“My reputation is fine,” I replied. “Men who trap women in their offices are the ones who should truly be worried about their reputations.”
Senior lifted his chin ever so slightly. “Good thing we don’t know any men like that. Or know anyone who would be willing offer witness accounts to prove it.”
“He looked back to Logan, dismissing me. “What a curious time for you to be entering back into high society. I thought you and your low–born wife would have more fun at a petting zoo, or a carnival perhaps
A few men gathering behind him, loyal to him, started to laugh.
“I think you may need to broaden your horizons, grandfather,” Logan said. “The world is so much bigger than the walls of your office.”
“I do things
things worth doing.” Senior replied shortly. “I have no need for frivolous, pointless pursuits.”
“Perhaps you’d be less miserable if you went out every now and then,” Logan continued. “Perhaps visit a park, or even the theater. When was the last time you went to a show?”
I could see what Logan was driving at. Senior had never been a kind father or grandfather, but he had at one time at least been a decent employer, according to his own staff. Something changed in him, hardened him.
Logan was likely suggesting things Senior had liked to do in the past, such as attending the theater. Things that he didn’t do any longer, since he started this obsession with his legacy.
“The only thing that makes me miserable,” Senior said, is knowing that my grandson plans to squander every boon he’d ever been granted. All for some…” He shifted his glare back at me. “Piece of ass.”
“Excuse me?” I gasped, startled and outraged at once. I’d known Senior didn’t like me, but that was an insult far too vulgar for a party such as this.
“You heard me,” Senior snapped at me, breaking decorum with his spiteful fury. “You vixen. You harlot. You tempted my grandson with your immoral fruits, and now he’s totally moved against me.”
“Grandfather,” Logan said, stepping in between us. His back to me, he was protecting me. “You are speaking to my wife. You don’t have to like her, but I demand you show her – and everyone attending this party – some respect by removing those insults from your language here.”
Senior glanced around, and for a moment, he almost appr where he was. In the next instant, however, the focus retu….
enuinely confused, as if he had forgotten
his eyes and features.
“Perhaps this was not the place… for such words. But I’m sure everyone can understand my passion. No one would like to see their legacy tarnished by someone so… lesser,” Senior said.
“Sir,” Mabel said, suddenly appearing from the wings. We hadn’t signaled for her, but she seemed enraged all on her own, rushing toward Senior and Logan, with me hidden behind. “Need I remind you that not everyone here came from old money? Many members of high society married people from outside of it.”
Senior shifted his glare to Mabel now. It was almost a relief, not having his ire on myself anymore, but my breath still caught in my throat. Mabel had fast become a friend, and I didn’t want to see that friend insulted.
“Mabel Fritz,” Senior said, his voice loud and crisp. “I’m not surprised you’d throw your lot in them, knowing your past.”
“The past is the past,” Mabel said.
“Says the woman who gave birth out of wedlock,” Senior said, an evil smirk curling his lip. “Who was the father again? Not the man who became your husband.
“Mabel, to her credit, continued to hold her head high. “If you are attempting to tarnish me, sir, you will find that it won’t work. I have many friends in this town…”
“If that is true, where are they now? Are they in this room?” Senior looked around. “Anyone who would speak against me for this woman’s sake, come forward.”
Mabel glanced in a few specific areas of the room. Those she looked at seemed nervous but none stepped forward.
“You are an outcast here, Mrs. Fritz. You might wear a spit polish around town, but all here know your flaws. We know you are not worth the effort it would take to insult you,” Senior continued, “You embarrass yourself by speaking to me.”
“That’s enough,” I snapped, unable to handle it anymore. Before Logan could react, I skirted around him, coming to stand in the space between him and Mabel,
“The outcast here is you!” I shouted at Senior. “You think you don’t have your own scars? You think your are so perfect? We’ve all made mistakes. We try to correct them. That’s part of being alive!”
“I’ve never had a child out of wedlock,” Senior sneered
“God, you are a miserable old asshole,” I told him. A few gasps sounded from around me. “Why do you Take so much enjoyment in putting others down? Is it to fill some emptiness inside of you?”
Hot anger flashed over Senior’s face, so severe that Logan Immediately stepped between us again,
casting me into the shadow of his back,
“Get
“Get out,” Senior growled. “Get the hell out here! You aren’t welcome here! Get out!”
I struck a nerve.
Logan tensed, probably ready to fight back. After glancing at Mabel and seeing her own shaken expression, I touched Logan’s shoulder, stopping his reaction.
“I
“Let’s go,” I said.
Logan squared off against his grandfather for a moment more. Then, finally, he turned to look at me. He held out both arms, one for me and one for Mabel. I laced my arm throw his on one side. Mabel did the same on the other.
Together, we walked as proudly as we could toward the exit.
Without being too obvious about it, I swept my glance across the room. Many people seemed amused by the entire exchange. A few seemed angry with our group specifically. Yet most… looked at Senior with a mixture of annoyance and concern.
As we neared the doorway, I heard a whisper.
“He wasn’t always like this…”
And a reply.
“Maybe he’s slipping…”
Then, a third voice, just before we left the ballroom.
“I think Hazel and Logan might be right…”