Chapter 287: The Sanders Retribution

I looked at the woman on the ground. She had delicate features, and her eyes were especially beautiful—clear and pure, like those of an animal. She wore a thin silk dress, her hair was messy, and she looked as panicked as a frightened deer. I quickly knelt to help her up and asked, “Are you okay?”

As our gazes met, something about her eyes seemed familiar. Behind me, a man’s voice called out, warm with a hint of amusement, “Thank you, Mrs. Bolton. She’s fine.”

Whitney flinched at the sound of his voice, her body trembling. She immediately grabbed my hand; her fingers were slender, her palm ice-cold. She whispered, in a faint, trembling voice, “H-help me.”

Instinctively, I stepped in front of her, my eyes locking onto the approaching man. It was Taylor Carlyn.

“Whitney, didn’t I tell you to stay in the car? Why are you out here in this cold?” He shrugged off his coat as he walked toward us. He was handsome, but for some reason, every time I saw him, I felt as though I were encountering a snake. There was something dark about him, a danger lurking beneath his charm.

“Mr. Carlyn,” I asked, trying to stay calm, “what is your relationship with this young lady?”

Taylor smirked. “A romantic one.”

“But she seems to be afraid of you.”

“Maybe it’s just my face. I must look frightening,” he said, still smiling. His features were undeniably attractive, but the smile sent a chill down my spine, like a predator sizing up its prey. My skin crawled.

I tightened my grip on Whitney’s hand. “Don’t be scared. Did he hurt you? Do you want me to call the police?”

As soon as I mentioned the police, Taylor’s pupils constricted, and the chilly air around him seemed to grow colder. “Mrs. Bolton, Whitney and I just had a small argument. She’s upset with me, that’s all. You’re really going to involve the police?” he sighed. “Whitney, come here, don’t let Mrs. Bolton misunderstand.”

Whitney’s face was filled with struggle. I couldn’t understand what had happened to make her so terrified of him. She was trembling, but I couldn’t tell if it was from fear or the cold. Her state reminded me of when I’d adopted a stray dog named Snowflake years ago; that little, fragile thing had shivered uncontrollably in the rain.

I softened my voice and asked, “Tell me, what is your name? What is he to you?”

“Whitney,” he said sharply, his eyes filled with barely contained anger. “I said, come here.”

Whitney hesitated, her eyes darting between us. Finally, she made her decision. “Thank you,” she whispered, letting go of my hand and walking toward Taylor. He smiled again. Taylor took a few steps toward her, draped his coat over her shoulders, and spoke to her in a tone full of false tenderness. “Don’t be upset.”

Whitney didn’t respond, merely leaning into his embrace. He scooped her into his arms and strode past me, heading toward a sleek black car.

“Don’t worry, Mrs. Bolton,” Taylor called over his shoulder, his voice dripping with insincerity. “Whitney is the most precious person in my life. How could I possibly hurt her?”

As they brushed past me, I noticed Whitney, her eyes closed in defeat, a single tear slipping down her cheek. Although I didn’t know what their relationship was, something was clearly wrong. I stepped forward, blocking their path. “If she’s truly willing, why is she crying? Miss, I really want to help you. If you’re in trouble, please tell me.”

She met my concerned gaze, her fingers gripping Taylor’s grey vest tightly. Whitney bit her lip before speaking in a voice barely above a whisper. “I just remembered something sad. Thank you for your concern.”

Taylor shot me a cold look, his smile turning menacing. “Mrs. Bolton, you can rest assured now.”

It was clear Whitney wasn’t cooperating, and even if I did call the police, they would only waste their time. They’d likely accuse me of making a false report. The way Whitney had begged for help before made it seem like there was much more going on than they were letting on.

Worried, I decided to follow them discreetly. Taylor carried Whitney into a black G-Wagon. The car didn’t drive off immediately, and a slight jolt told me exactly what was happening. I quickly turned and left.

Taylor had no shame, finding pleasure in strange places. Was I just overthinking it? Were they simply a couple with unconventional tastes?

Returning to the memorial hall, I saw Anna sitting next to Josh, trying to comfort him. Josh wasn’t doing any better than Kate, who I was sure didn’t know about the news. Not only had she skipped the wedding, but she also hadn’t shown up to the funeral. He sat on a chair, his eyes empty and lifeless, like a puppet with no strings. He didn’t react to anything Anna said.

Greg had stepped in as the head of the family. Ethan and Jake were both gone. Ethan used to manage the family affairs while Jake handled the business outside. He had always had the easiest life, but now he had to take on all the responsibilities. Josh had aged at least ten years; his once-straight back now slumped. Greg had to take charge of the funeral arrangements. Bill didn’t show up, but Sadie did—accompanied by Ashley.

She strutted in like a victorious hen, finally securing her mate, and showed off in front of Anna with an air of superiority.

“Mr. Sander, please accept my condolences,” Sadie said.

Anna’s face had lost some of its swelling, though there were still small wounds, and her skin was pale. She glared at Sadie with venom and asked, “What are you doing here?”

“Well, Ms. Sander, aren’t you shameless? I thought you’d be hiding at home after everything was exposed, but here you are, showing your face in public. Your skin is so thick, it’s impressive. By the way, where’s your lover today?”

“Shut your mouth!” Anna snapped.

Before she could say anything else, Ashley, standing protectively beside Sadie, sneered. “The one who should be quiet is you. What? Can’t handle the truth? Sadie’s right, isn’t she? A despicable couple like you two deserve each other. Consider yourselves lucky last time that we didn’t beat you two to death.”

It was clear they were here just to provoke the Sanders. Anna, who had been taking medication to protect her pregnancy, was triggered by Sadie’s words and immediately clutched her stomach, looking unwell.

“Anna, are you okay?” Greg rushed to her side.

“Ms. Gardner,” Greg said suddenly, his voice trembling with emotion. “We Sanders have no personal grudges with you. If you’re here to mourn my brother, we welcome you. But if you’re here to cause trouble, then please leave.”

“You turn to face retribution, and yet you’re pretending to be innocent,” Sadie sneered. While others might gossip behind closed doors, Sadie had no such hesitation—she was boldly confronting them face to face.

Josh’s pupils contracted violently, and he asked, “Who are you saying is facing retribution?”

Sadie, with a smug grin, responded arrogantly, “Of course, it’s you, Sanders. When the foundation is flawed, the entire structure collapses. First your daughter, then your son. Who will be next?”