Chapter 22: Men
Valerie tightened her grip on the handle of the knife, her knuckles white. The tension in the room thickened, and the air felt heavy with unspoken hostility. Jazlynn, noticing the shift in her daughter’s demeanor, subtly pulled at Abbigail’s clothes, signaling for her to stop. But Abbigail, emboldened by her mother’s silent support, refused to back down.
“Moreover, those antiques are useless to you, as they can’t make Terrence fall for you,” Abbigail sneered. “In the end, you have no choice but to reluctantly marry a good-for-nothing like Ricky.”
The words hit Valerie like a slap. Jazlynn snapped, her voice sharp, “Abbigail!” But Valerie didn’t flinch. She let go of the knife handle, setting it down with a calmness that betrayed the storm swirling inside her.
She faced Abbigail with a cold smile.
“Marrying Ricky is indeed not challenging. It’s more fun with Terrence. I think I should go back to Houston.”
Abbigail’s eyes widened, and she instantly fell silent, her bravado evaporating under Valerie’s icy gaze.
Valerie slowly stood up, her eyes scanning Jazlynn and Abbigail—the two women who seemed so alike, yet so different. She spoke again, her voice calm but heavy with meaning:
“Those antiques are the marriage gift and the only relics left to me by my father. Whoever dares to covet them will end up like this apple…”
With a swift motion, Valerie drove the knife blade into the apple she had been peeling earlier. The crisp sound of the blade piercing through the flesh echoed through the room. The sharpness of the knife mirrored the sharpness of her words.
Both Jazlynn and Abbigail watched in stunned silence, the scene so intense that neither could speak. The air around them felt suffocating, thick with a mix of fear and tension.
Valerie’s gaze lingered on them for a moment longer before she turned and left the room without another word. Only after she had disappeared from sight did the two women speak.
Abbigail, still trembling, looked to her mother, her voice shaky.
“Mom, you see? She…”
Jazlynn gently stroked Abbigail’s hair, her tone soft but laced with a subtle determination.
“Don’t worry. I will take those antiques back, no matter what.”
Valerie got into her car and drove around the vicinity of the villa for several laps, her mind racing and her heart aching. The pain in her chest wasn’t just from the threat of her mother and stepsister attempting to steal her father’s legacy, but from the deeper wound—her heartbreak over her father.
How had her father, Teagan Schwartz, fallen for Jazlynn all those years ago?
Teagan had been an antique restorer at the National Academy of Sciences. He was a man of exceptional skill, well-versed in the restoration of ancient books, paintings, watches, and various utensils. His talents were vast, and though he might not have been wealthy, he had lived a good life—a life that should have been fulfilling. Yet, Jazlynn had never appreciated him for what he was.
To her, Teagan had been nothing more than a simple “repairman,” a label that dismissed everything he had worked for, everything he was. She had looked down on him, and now Valerie could see the repercussions of that disdain clearly.
Teagan had been a man of integrity, of principle, and he had given everything to a woman who hadn’t valued him. As Valerie drove aimlessly, she couldn’t help but wonder what had blinded her father to the reality of Jazlynn’s true nature. What had made him fall for her?
And now, here she was, tangled in the web her father had unknowingly woven—trapped between the legacy of his love and the selfish, greedy desires of the women who now sought to claim everything he had left behind.
As the car drove on, Valerie couldn’t shake the feeling that the ghosts of her past, of her family’s mistakes, were following her at every turn. And the question lingered: Would she ever be free of their grip, or was she destined to carry the weight of their choices for the rest of her life?
