Chapter 6 Raking up the Past

“Yeah, I did time.” Meryl’s eyes scanned the crowd, finally landing on Lydia.

Lydia reached out to grab her hand. “Meryl, stop saying that. I just spoke without thinking, okay?”

Meryl pulled back, avoiding Lydia’s touch, yanking her hand away.

Suddenly, Lydia stepped on the hem of her dress and fell to the ground.

The fall was hard, and shards from a broken glass on the floor hadn’t been cleaned up yet.

Dalton immediately rushed over, pushing through the crowd to help Lydia up.

Her hand was a bloody mess, with shards embedded in her skin. Dalton’s eyes blazed with anger as he glared at Meryl. “Meryl, you never learn! I warned you…”

Meryl’s heart skipped a beat. She knew Dalton didn’t care about her, but seeing him protect another woman still hurt.

“What did I do? I just pulled my hand away. She fell on her own.”

Seeing their hands clasped together, Meryl felt a pang of irony. She lowered her gaze, gently touching a spot on her chest where a pendant hung, a gift from someone long ago.

In prison, during countless moments of despair, she had clung to that pendant to get through it.

When she looked up again, her eyes were cold.

She smiled bitterly and continued, “Yeah, I was in prison, but I was framed.”

Bianca’s face turned pale as Meryl revealed her imprisonment.

Initially, when Lydia exposed Meryl’s past, Bianca also suspected it was intentional.

But watching Lydia apologize and try to cover it up, she believed it was just a slip of the tongue.

She had watched Lydia grow up and couldn’t believe she had such malicious intentions.

Not wanting things to get out of hand, Bianca tried to smooth things over. “Meryl, you’ve had too much to drink. Let them help you upstairs to sober up.”

But Meryl ignored her, her voice steady.

“Three years ago, if I had really kidnapped Lydia, I could have made her disappear without a trace. Why would I leave evidence for you to find her?”

Suddenly, a sharp slap echoed through the room.

Malcolm had emerged from his study, his face stern.

“Meryl, stop this nonsense right now!” he commanded.

Her cheek stung, but Meryl didn’t flinch.

“Lydia only had minor injuries. If those men really wanted to hurt her, they would have done it when they first grabbed her. Why take her to an abandoned factory? It doesn’t add up.”

The crowd was stunned, eyes widening in disbelief.

Whispers spread through the room as people glanced at Lydia, who bit her lip, her face pale.

Malcolm was furious. This incident had been a forbidden topic in the Stone family for years. Now, Meryl was airing their dirty laundry in front of everyone, turning them into a spectacle.

His one daughter ended up in prison, and the other was nearly assaulted, all because of a bitter feud between sisters. It was the kind of scandal that made for juicy gossip in high society.

Tears streamed down Lydia’s face, her shoulders trembling as she sobbed quietly.

Meryl let out a cold laugh, thinking, “Can’t handle this, can you?”

Compared to her own suffering, this was nothing.

Bianca shot Meryl a warning look, urging her to be quiet. Three years ago, they had agreed to send Meryl to prison to teach her a lesson because she had refused to admit her mistake, and they thought she was beyond help.

Bianca sometimes wondered if they had been too harsh. After all, Meryl was their daughter.

But Lydia had insisted that being a Stone family member would protect her in prison. They believed this might be the only way to set Meryl straight, fearing she would otherwise go down the wrong path.

Bianca had reluctantly agreed.

Meryl had been raised by Camille, who had also raised a gambling, lazy son.

With that kind of upbringing, Meryl needed some serious correction to set her on the right path.

“Why bring this up now?” Bianca’s voice was full of frustration. “Can’t you see Lydia is crying?”

Meryl’s expression turned mocking. “Right, I went to prison for her, and she’s the one crying.”

She bent down, lifting the hem of her dress to reveal an ugly scar on her ankle, causing a collective gasp from the room.

“But who cares if I’m hurting?”

Meryl’s fingers traced the scar.

The damp weather made it ache slightly, but she was used to it.

“I’ve always wondered who paid off those inmates to treat me like that. I have dozens of scars. Want to see?”

They had claimed it was Dalton, but Meryl didn’t believe it. She wanted to know, in front of everyone, who was truly responsible.

The sight of her scar made the daughters of the wealthy families present feel a pang of sympathy. They had been pampered their whole lives and had never suffered like this.

“Was it you?” Meryl looked at Malcolm and Bianca, then quickly shifted her gaze to Lydia. “Or you?”

Finally, her eyes locked on Dalton.