Chapter 63: Laid Bare For All To See

Startled, Waverly immediately returned to the Goodridge residence. Half an hour later, Vera was rushed into the operating room. Raylee sat by the door, images of her grandmother’s illness flashing through her mind like a nightmare. Fear, uncertainty, and helplessness overwhelmed her. Her eyes were bloodshot, her nose tingled, but she stubbornly refused to cry.

Upon hearing the news, the Goodridge family arrived. Raylee, her gaze fixed on Waverly, who hid behind Harriet, showed a flicker of vengeance. Waverly, terrified, trembled, clinging to Harriet's hand. Harriet patted her reassuringly, silently urging calm. She stepped closer, pleading on Waverly's behalf. "Raylee, Waverly spoke to me," she said softly. "She's scared you'll tell Jeremiah everything—that Samuel will pay the price. That's why she begged for your mercy at Goodridge Manor. She never meant to make your grandmother sick. Threatening to take her to the grave only scares her."

"Exactly," Alaric mediated. "You've already slapped her twice; Waverly's learned her lesson. Don't hold it against her anymore."

"Right, it's not her fault," someone added. "She's innocent; your whole family is innocent."

Raylee lifted her head, her eyes blazing as she glanced at Harriet and Alaric. Her gaze held a deep mockery.

Samuel stepped forward, displeased. "You don't need to be sarcastic. Grandma is not just your grandmother; she's ours too. If something happens to her, we'll feel it as much as you do!"

Raylee ignored him. These siblings—one brazenly hurting her, the other harming her grandmother—would not escape unscathed.

"What matters most to you?" Raylee's gaze fell on Waverly. Her tone was soft.

"What?" Waverly was bewildered.

"Do you have someone or something important to you? I care most about my grandmother. What about you?"

Raylee's voice was airy, her face expressionless. Her apparent indifference was startling. Waverly kept her head down, unsure.

Suddenly, Raylee rushed toward her. "I asked you a question. Why didn't you answer? Even if you didn't, I know. What you care about most is your hair!"

Raylee grabbed Waverly's long, curly hair, pulling hard. Clutching the wig, Raylee grimaced, gritting her teeth. "This wig is sturdy! It wasn't cheap, was it?" she sneered.

"Raylee, you've lost your mind!" Samuel intervened. "Let go of Waverly!"

Harriet rushed forward, protective, fearing Waverly's harm. But it was too late. Raylee had removed the wig.

"Ahh…" Waverly cried out, frantically clutching her head. Her long, curled hair was gone, replaced by a patchy, uneven buzz cut. She looked pitiful and ridiculous. All trace of her elegance vanished. She crouched, burying her face in her hands, sobbing uncontrollably.

"Waverly!" The Goodridge family gathered, offering comfort.

Samuel glared at Raylee. "You know damn well Waverly has hair issues—why did you do that on purpose?"

Raylee's eyes burned with fury. "Oh, I know about her alopecia. I know it's nearly incurable, and she hides it under a wig. Four years, Samuel—four years you've chased every top doctor, and what do you have to show for it? Not much, huh? Even wealth has limits. Tell me, little princess—has your precious Casimir ever seen you like this?"

Amidst her sobs, Waverly lifted her head, despair filling her tone. "Raylee, why must you uncover my wounds? This is a secret I cannot share, a lifelong pain. Don't you know I contracted this illness from your biological parents? Why are you all so cruel to me?"

Raylee's voice cracked with emotion. "Stop blaming everyone else! The doctor said it's hereditary—it has nothing to do with how you grew up! That hair you cherished… those scars you hid… it must have hurt like hell when I ripped them open, didn't it?"