Double Revenge After One Night Stand

3. Counterattack To His Mother

***Diana's POV***

“Mrs. Taylor, Mrs. Taylor, are you awake?” The urgent knocking from my maid, Mary, woke me up from my sleep.

Wrapped in a silk nightgown, I opened the door with a yawn. “What is it?” I asked, frowning. I had spent the whole night tossing and turning, only managing to fall asleep with the help of a sleeping pill. Now I could barely keep my eyes open.

“Mrs. Taylor,” Mary replied quickly, “Mr. Taylor’s mother called this morning. She’s coming over for lunch. It’s nearly ten o’clock, so I came to check if you needed any help getting ready.”

Her worry wasn’t unfounded—Anthony’s mother, Margaret Taylor, was notoriously demanding, especially when it came to me, her son’s wife. From my appearance to my manners, she seemed to find fault in everything, as though nothing I did could ever please her.

On a typical day, hearing that she was on her way would have me leaping out of bed, dressing up dedicately, and preparing to handle her with careful politeness. But after last night, I was done trying to please Margaret. Divorce was the worst-case scenario, and frankly, I couldn’t care less anymore.

“Let her come. Just don’t wake me up for it,” I said impatiently, already closing the door.

Mary looked at me with a mixture of confusion and surprise, likely wondering about my change in attitude, but she kept quiet. Just before the door closed completely, she slipped in one last piece of information. “One more thing, ma’am—a man is waiting at the front door. He’s been here a while.”

“A man?” I asked, puzzled. “Did he say who he was or what he wanted?”

Mary shook her head. “He only mentioned that Mr. Taylor sent him, and that he had something for you.”

Here we go again. I rolled my eyes. In recent year, whenever Anthony and I had a fight, he would send “gifts,” usually delivered by someone else—an assistant, a maid, or the driver—never himself. As if each present was an offering, not an apology.

I took a deep breath and headed downstairs, curious to see what this latest “gift” would be.

To my surprise, a strikingly handsome young man stood at the door, probably in his early twenties, holding a blue jewelry box.

“You must be Mrs. Taylor?” He greeted me with a polite smile, though his expression was more one of curiosity than respect, as if he were sizing me up.

“I am,” I replied coolly. “Is there a problem?”

He chuckled. “Not at all. Just surprised—you look much younger than I’d imagined.”

Seriously? In a nightgown, unwashed, unmade-up, with dark circles under my eyes, and he’s calling me young?

A strange satisfaction flickered in me, though my cheeks grew warm. Feigning composure, I brushed my hair back and said, “And you are?”

“Alex,” he replied, flashing a charming smile as he held up his ID badge. It read: Alex Miller, Intern, Eclypse Marketing.

So he was one of Anthony’s new interns. That explained the unfamiliar face. Leaning against the doorframe, I glanced at the blue box in his hands. “Did Anthony send you with this?”

“Nope,” he replied, shaking his head. “Technically, Anthony sent James, but James did't want to bother and handed it off to me. Honestly, Mrs. Taylor, the way your husband's company overworks interns is intense. No wonder the turnover rate is so high.”

James Moore——I knew him as an insufferable supervisor at Anthony’s office. Hearing Alex take a jab at Anthony’s company lifted my spirits. I took the box from his hand, opened it, and found a pair of diamond earrings. Not terribly expensive and hardly my style.

“Hey, Mary,” I called over my shoulder to the maid dusting behind me. She quickly set down her vacuum and approached. “Sell them or wear them—they’re all yours now.” I handed her the box along with the earrings.

Mary took them, nearly speechless with gratitude, and scurried off, clutching the box as if I might change my mind. I turned to close the door, but Alex spoke up again. “Well done. If I were you, I wouldn’t give that jewelry a second look, either.”

My brow arched. “What does that mean?”

“That pair’s just a sample from one of our clients. After the photoshoot, it was left sitting around. If this is supposed to be an apology gift…well, maybe you shouldn’t forgive him after all.”

He had hit the nail on the head! I gave this bold, handsome intern a once-over and, with a hint of a smile, asked, “Aren’t you afraid I’ll tell your boss, Mr. Taylor, what you just said?”

“Go ahead,” he said with a smirk. “Tell him it was James who delivered the gift today.”

I couldn’t help laughing, feeling a little lighter for the first time since last night. But my smile faded quickly when a sleek black car pulled up the driveway, stopping in front of the house. The driver stepped out, opened the rear door, and out emerged the last person I wanted to see now—Margaret Taylor, my ever-critical mother-in-law.

“It’s barely morning, and you’re standing at the door in your nightgown with some……unknown man?” she sneered, not even reaching the front door before her criticism began. Dressed in designer clothes, she was about as elegant as a viper, her sharp tongue turning her high fashion into something cheap.

I shrugged, unbothered. “And where else should I be? In bed with him in this nightgown?”

Alex stifled a grin, while Margaret looked utterly scandalized, as though she couldn’t believe I had finally talked back. She seemed stunned, rooted to the spot with a shocked expression before her anger returned, and she strode toward me, ready for a showdown.

“Wasn’t last night your anniversary with Anthony?” she hissed. “Instead of celebrating with your husband, you’re out here flirting with another man. If this gets out, gossip will tear apart the Taylor family!”

“If you want to know why I didn’t spend our anniversary with my husband, go ask your son,” I replied coolly, leaning against the doorframe and blocking her entrance. “And for the record, this is my house. I’ll speak to whomever I want. Not that it’s any of your business.”

Her face twisted as if she had swallowed a frog. Her brows furrowed so deeply that her eyes nearly disappeared, and she started in on me with the same tired refrain. “I told Anthony from the start—he never should have married such a venomous woman like you! Even your own parents abandoned you, and it was out of Anthony’s kindness that he gave you a home! And what have you done in return? Three years of marriage, and you still haven’t produced an heir. And yet, you still have the audacity to speak to me like this?"

Here we go again. Anthony may be his father’s only son, but he isn’t the only Taylor of his generation. There are plenty of uncles and cousins vying for the family fortune. Margaret always loves to needle me about it, as if our not having children is somehow my fault alone.

And yet, the pain of it pierced me again.

Just as I was about to respond, Alex spoke up, having watched the scene unfold in silence.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” he said innocently, flashing Margaret a smile as genuine as it was disarming. “If you’re so keen on an heir, perhaps you could give Mr. Taylor a little brother or sister? I’m sure, with your resources, there’s a man somewhere willing to help.”

I nearly burst out laughing. Margaret’s indiscretions were an open secret in wealthy circles; that an intern like Alex was aware didn’t surprise me.

“What did you just say?!” Margaret’s face contorted with rage, her thick layer of foundation cracking under the strain, looking like a mask about to shatter. “And who exactly are you? Who gave you the right to speak to me this way?”

“Me?” Alex pointed to himself, unperturbed. I noticed he had slipped his ID badge into his pocket at some point. “I’m James Moore, sent here by Mr. Taylor to deliver a gift to Mrs. Taylor. Now that the job’s done, I’ll be on my way.” With a mischievous smile and a wink, he turned and headed down the driveway.

Before getting into his car, he shot a look back at Margaret, unable to resist one final jab. “Oh, and by the way, purple really doesn’t suit you. It makes you look like a rather overripe eggplant.”

Margaret was nearly foaming at the mouth as he walked away, while I took advantage of her tirade to quietly shut the door.

There was no way he was just an intern, but he had really made my day! Smiling to myself, I headed back to my room, feeling much relieved.