Chapter 259: Retribution in the Storm

When Carter appeared, I gripped Linette’s hair with one hand and held a sharp shard of porcelain against her face. I had pressed down so hard that a small cut formed on her cheek. I wasn’t much better off myself; my palm, clutching the shard, was cut open, and blood dripped down the porcelain. The Wilchers had pushed me around, and my hair was a mess. I looked a complete wreck, but I stood firm, my posture exuding fierce defiance. But the moment I saw Carter, all that bravado melted away. A deep sense of grievance welled up from the pit of my stomach.

“Carter,” I whispered softly.

Carter rolled his wheelchair toward me, and Damian took a few strides to reach my side. “Madam, let go. Leave the rest to me.”

I released my grip, my hand covered in blood. When I let go of Linette, she froze in shock. She touched her face where I had slashed her, then shrieked, “Ah! My face! There’s blood!” Her piercing scream gave me a headache, so I slapped her face. “Shut up.”

She was stunned momentarily, then turned to Benjamin. “Dad, Harper, you’ve got to help me!”

“Zoey, you’ve got some nerve. She’s your aunt!” Harper, the coward, suddenly remembered how to protect his wife. Perhaps it was because I had challenged their fragile male pride. For years, the mother-daughter duo had been controlled by the Wilchers. Now that I was trying to upend their authority, how could they possibly swallow this humiliation?

Just as Harper raised his hand to hit me, Carter remained silent. Damian stepped forward, kicking him ten feet away. His body slammed into the fish tank with a loud crash, shattering it. The water and fish spilled everywhere, cascading across the floor. Harper squirmed on the ground, struggling like a dying fish, while Linette stood frozen in shock. Only Benjamin remained calm. He looked at Carter and yelled, “Mr. Bolton, this is a family matter. You have no place being so arrogant here.”

Carter stopped beside me and pulled me into his arms, ignoring Benjamin’s yelling. He spoke softly, “Does it hurt?” His fingers gently traced the marks on my face. Earlier, in my anger, I hadn’t felt much pain, but now, with his words, it felt as though a parent was stepping in to comfort me. I looked at him with a tearful expression. “It hurts.”

Carter gently patted my head. “I’m sorry, I’m late.” His tone was soft, but his entire presence radiated power and coldness. “Zoey, be good. Let the servants treat your wounds.” I knew he was handling the aftermath. The Wilchers were done for today! Carter was detached—he rarely stirred up trouble unless it was unavoidable. The Wilchers had gone too far by targeting me.

“I’m fine.” Philippa had already brought over the first-aid kit. “Come here quickly. Let me stop the bleeding. Why did you have to go this far, you silly child?” She scolded me, but her tears betrayed her worry. This life, the one I shared with Zoey, had become something we were used to. She never knew how to resist before, but now that I was here, things were different. Even if it meant getting hurt, I wouldn’t let the Wilchers push us further.

“If we don’t fight back, they’ll keep going unchecked. You’ve been bullied for so many years, Mom. From now on, I want to protect you.” Mom gazed deeply into my eyes. “You silly child.”

“As long as you’re okay, Mom,” I replied calmly. I had promised Zoey that I would protect her mother, and I had done it.

Seeing the situation turn, Vere quickly took out his phone, preparing to call the police. But one of the bodyguards was faster. With a sharp ‘click’, his hand was twisted behind his back in a brutal move, likely dislocating his shoulder. The phone dropped to the floor, and the bodyguard picked it up and handed it to Carter.

Carter, sitting in his wheelchair, looked calm as ever, his voice cold and emotionless. “You want to call the police? Should I report it for you?”

“You think you’re so clever?” Vere spat.

Carter’s tone shifted slightly, his voice still cold. “Perfect timing. I have some things to report as well, like how you trespassed into my house, stole millions in luxury goods, and intentionally harmed my wife. And I heard you’ve done plenty of other ‘good deeds’ in this country—forcing women into prostitution, breaking someone’s husband’s legs, causing a person to jump from a building. And as for Mrs. Wilcher, your hands aren’t so clean either. Bribing officials to get your son a government position and lending money at exorbitant interest rates.”

“You’re talking nonsense!” Benjamin shouted, clearly panicking.

Carter sneered. “Oh, and you, the head of the Wilchers—your hands are the dirtiest of all. You’ve been central to so many shady dealings over the years. Do you want me to hand all the evidence to the police?”

Hearing Carter casually list their crimes, I could see them all beginning to realize how deeply they were in trouble. Each of those offenses, if exposed, would lock them away for good.

Vere, sensing things were escalating, suddenly tried to smooth things over. “Mr. Bolton, we’re family, but there is just a bit of friction between us. Do we really have to escalate it this far?”

Rubic, still somewhat composed, spoke up. “I’ll take my husband to the hospital. His arm’s dislocated.” She didn’t want to get involved further, pulling Vere to leave.

Carter’s cold voice stopped her in her tracks. “Trying to leave? Did I say you could?” He casually played with the phone in his hand, his face as calm as ever, but the pressure in the air made me uneasy. Suddenly, Carter raised his hand and slammed the phone onto the floor with a loud crash.

“Do you all really think that after hurting Zoey, you’ll walk away in one piece? His voice was icy. “Damian, close the door.”

Outside, a heavy snowstorm had begun. Damian closed the door, shutting out the cold. Mom was still tending to my wounds, and even she was taken aback by Carter’s demeanor.

“Carter, you…” she started to speak. Knowing her compassionate nature, Carter interrupted before she could finish, his voice soft but firm. “Zoey, take your mother upstairs to rest.”

“Okay.” I helped Mom up, gently reassuring her, “Mom, don’t worry. Let Carter handle this.”

Just as we were about to leave, Rubie finally felt the danger approaching. She grabbed Philippa’s arm, knowing how soft-hearted she was. “Philippa, we know we were wrong. Please talk to Mr. Bolton for us. We came here to have dinner; we never meant for things to get this out of hand.”

Carter scoffed. “Dinner? Ha.” He gave Damian a look, and Damian picked up a fruit knife from the fruit platter, twirling it in his hand. “Mrs. Wilcher, do you want to let go yourself, or should I help you?”

Rubie trembled with fear, still wanting to hold onto Mom but now terrified of Damian’s decisive movements. Mom was getting scared, so I quickly helped her upstairs to calm her down. “It’s okay, Carter just wants to teach them a lesson.”

As soon as I finished speaking, a cold voice came from downstairs, “Who hit Zoey?”