Chapter 215: Old Scores, New Wounds
“Hmph,” Yunice sneered, watching Elsie’s show. “Do you really think everyone’s as much of an idiot as Owen? That they’ll just dance around your little games?”
Elsie looked confused—until Carl’s cold voice cut through the air. “So much effort running the show, and yet you can’t even make space for your own sister to stay in the house? What exactly have you been busy with all these years?”
Owen’s face flushed hot. He darted a glance at Yunice, his eyes full of embarrassment and threat, wondering if she’d said something to Carl behind his back. I still need to work with Mr. Carl; I can’t afford to let him think poorly of me!
Carl said, “Don’t look at her. I’ve seen all the quarterly reports from Saunders Hospital. The place has been going downhill year after year—is that Yunny’s fault too?”
“Mr. Carl…” Elsie’s voice trembled, a mix of panic and dread. “It’s not Owen’s fault…”
But before she could finish, Carl snapped, “And who the heck do you think you are, speaking to me?”
His cold, impatient glare made Elsie flinch. Her eyes reddened instantly, as if she’d been bullied.
But then, quick as lightning, she ran to Yunice’s side and grabbed her arm, crying as she pleaded, “Yunice, tell Mr. Carl! Tell him how hard Owen’s worked all these years, please. He’ll believe you—he trusts you…”
Seeing Elsie desperately trying to plead Owen’s case, even while clearly terrified, touched something in Owen. Compared to that, Yunice’s icy silence only made his heart chill.
Noticing Carl’s dislike toward Elsie, Owen made up his mind—he’d stand up for her. He addressed Carl with solemn resolve. “Mr. Carl, I think you’ve misunderstood Elsie. She’s my real sister, not some outsider. I only hope she can be treated with the same kindness and protection you give Yunny.”
Carl had been merely cold before—but hearing that made his expression darken with genuine fury. “Will only had one daughter—Yunny. And that one? If anything, she’s the reason your father ended up dead.”
Just as he said it, Lily had walked in—and caught every word. With a loud thump, she staggered and collapsed against the doorframe. The noise caught everyone’s attention.
Lily clung to the doorframe, her expression crumbling. Her eyes, aged by time, brimmed with tears—then overflowed.
Elsie panicked. “Owen, did Mom hear what Mr. Carl said?”
Owen panicked too. He and Elsie rushed to Lily’s side, one on each side supporting her. Owen’s voice shook. “Mom, why are you here?”
Lily glanced guiltily at Carl, then tried to compose herself. “I heard something happened with Elsie. I was worried…”
Owen whipped his head around to glare at Yunice. “You called Mom here, didn’t you?”
In his mind, Yunice wanted Lily to witness Elsie being humiliated—that way, she’d feel satisfied. But Yunice frowned. Lily didn’t come because of me.
Still, with Lily’s arrival, the atmosphere shifted once again. Yunice looked to Carl. Carl’s brow was furrowed into a hard line, his expression cold, though something unreadable flickered in his eyes.
He and Will had been as close as family. Back when Will married Lily, Carl had been a constant presence. In a way, Carl and Lily were old acquaintances. When Lily disappeared, Carl had even used his connections to search for her. But after Will died, and with everything that followed, it had been over twenty years since he last saw her.
Old friends meeting again stirred old memories. Two decades had passed. The kids were grown; time had left its mark on them all.
Lily stepped forward, her eyes already bloodshot. “Carl.”
Carl didn’t answer. His face remained cold.
Lily looked down. “I know you blame me. You think I’m the reason Will died—your best friend…” Her voice was barely more than a whisper. “I don’t blame you. All of Will’s friends think the…”
Owen and Elsie clutched at Lily’s arms, eyes red with emotion. Owen clenched his jaw, fury building as he watched his mother humbled like this. “Mr. Carl, my mom is a victim too. For fifteen years, she lived a life worse than death. No one has the right to blame her—not even you!”
She leaned in and said, “Everyone, if you need to talk, maybe take it somewhere else?” This is still the Powell mansion. One after another, sobbing and pleading on the floor—it’s starting to look like we’re bullying someone.