Secrets I've Held in My Heart

Chapter 19 : Christian

I respect Martha, in spite of her being the woman who accompanied my dad to cheat on my mom. I've always given her the respect that any woman deserves when it comes to respecting women; I've never been biased. But today, it looks like I'll break my own principle, because how dare she snap at Ava like that?

"Ma—" I was about to confront Martha, but before I could utter a word, Ava swiftly pivoted and sprinted towards the staircase, heading for our room.

Frustration overwhelmed me, and I couldn't help but think, "Fụcking homewrecker!"

I apologise for the language, but it's the bare minimum of my self-control. Martha should consider herself fortunate that she's still standing on her two legs. Gender doesn't matter; if anyone had ever hurt my Ava like this, a painless death would be the best they could hope for.

Rosa's words broke the tension, though not in a positive way. "Great!" she exclaimed, her voice releasing the tension in my jaw, diverting my attention toward her. "Superb, Martha Alfred Fuçking Forbes." She began to clap her hands.

Dad, red-faced and trembling with anger, screamed at Rosa, "Mind your language, Rose." His brows furrowed deeply, and his eyes shot daggers at her, clearly displaying his fury. His clenched fists and tense posture revealed his intense frustration with Rosa's choice of language.

Rosa's response brimmed with seething anger, her words dripping with sarcasm as she clarified, "For your kind information, my name is Rosa. Not Rose." The sharp edge in her voice cut through the air. "My mom gave it to me, and I like it very much." She paused, her tone turning icier. "You can gracefully change your wife, but never expect the same from me." Her frustration was palpable as she continued, "And yeah, about 'mind,' where was yours when she was brutally criticising Ava?"

Martha's apology came across as feeble and inadequate in the face of Rosa's fury. "Oh, I'm sorry if I hurt her," she stammered, sounding utterly foolish, as though her words could magically restore Ava's lost smile. The tension in the room hung thick, an unspoken rift between the two women, as Rosa's anger lingered in the air, leaving Martha acutely aware of her thoughtless actions.

Bitçh! I would have respected her if she was just telling the truth, but she wasn't. In the mask of truth, she was brutally criticising Ava. She was disrespectful to her as if her sole motive was running her reputation instead of telling the truth.

Rosa's biting sarcasm hung heavy in the air as she locked eyes with Martha. "Oh, don't be," she quipped, her tone laced with bitterness. "Homewreckers can be anything but sorry."

Dad's voice rang out, 'Rosa!'. He then abruptly pushed Martha aside. His raised hand loomed menacingly, poised to strike Rosa. However, in the nick of time, Patrick rushed between them, forcefully grasping Dad's hand and thwarting the impending blow. The tension in the room reached its peak as this unexpected intervention halted the unfolding conflict.

In the midst of this tense confrontation, Patrick's grip quivered, but he tenaciously maintained his hold on Dad's hand. He spoke with a certain bluntness, saying, "I get it. She's your daughter." Although Patrick's grasp might have seemed impolite, his eyes betrayed a profound respect as he lowered his gaze. However, just before delivering his next words, he lifted his gaze, locking eyes with Dad, and stated firmly, "But she's my wife too, and I won't tolerate anyone disrespecting her. I mean it, ANYONE." With a deliberate release of Dad's hand, Patrick once again lowered his head and added, "I'm genuinely sorry if any of my words seemed disrespectful."

I've never felt this proud of Patrick as I do now. By doing this, by protecting my sister, he proved that all the millions of dollars I paid to save his ass were all worthy. That's my brother-in-law.

Amidst the tense atmosphere, a gentle and uncertain voice managed to pierce the silence. "Ahh-ummm," it stammered, breaking the tension. "Where should I keep them?"

All eyes turned toward the source of the voice, revealing Jeff, who clutched a food trolley with trembling hands.

"What's that?" Rosa inquired.

Jeff replied, "It's hot smoked salmon & lentil salad for everyone and Mexican black bean salad for Ava, ma'am."

A subtle, genuine smile spread across Patrick's face as he said, "Great."

"What's so great about it?" Rosa retorted sharply, her gaze fixed on Patrick. She then shifted her attention to Jeff, stating, "I've lost my appetite. I'll head to my room." With that, she spun around and made her way towards the stairs, retreating to her room.

Patrick, as he followed Rosa, turned back to Jeff and offered a warm smile, saying, "Thank you, Jeff. We'll have our dinner in our rooms."

Once Patrick and Rosa had left, Martha also departed from the dining area, remarking, "I've lost my appetite too."

Dad, wearing an expression of disappointment, shook his head and followed his wife.

In the aftermath of this family confrontation, I issued a firm command to Jeff before he left, "Jeff, please make arrangements to send their meals to their respective rooms."

The room fell into an eerie quiet, and only the palpable sense of anticipation lingered. I stared at the red pasta on the table, made by Ava. I know she isn't that good of a cook, but still, it was strange that the pasta was so incredibly spicy, like someone had dumped a whole container of chilli powder into it. Not just a mere spoonful. Ava can be a bad cook, but she is definitely not so careless. Something certainly seemed amiss.

Amidst this perplexing situation, one of the workers entered the dinner hall, ready to clear the table. She meticulously wiped down the dishes, carefully folding the used napkins and placing them in a neat stack.

"Margaret," I called out her name.

Pausing in her cleaning duties, Margaret turned her attention towards me. "Yes, sir?" She approached, an air of curiosity in her expression.

"I've heard that you're the resident gossip queen around here," I inquired, "that nothing happening in the BARF mansion escapes your notice. Is that true?"

"Ahh-ummm, I—"

She seemed on the verge of lying, and I could sense it, so I warned her sternly, "NO LIES!"

Her voice quivered as she responded, "Yes, sir. You're right."

I pressed on, determined to get answers. "Tell me who's responsible for this," I demanded.

She sought clarification, saying, "Excuse me?"

"Who added chilli powder to Ava's pasta?" I cut straight to the point.

She hesitated, attempting to deflect, "What are you talk—"

My glare silenced her, and I advanced toward her with an edge of intensity in my voice. "Nothing about the BARF mansion escapes your notice," I reminded her, my tone turning more commanding. "That means you know what I can do to those who aren't helpful to me." For every step I took toward her, she instinctively took one backward. "So, tell me who did this."

"Sarah, she did it," Margaret confessed with fear in her voice.

I wasn't satisfied with her answer. "I don't want the pawn. I want the name of the player, the one behind this mastermind." I asked firmly.

Margaret hesitated, but then she finally revealed the name. "It is…….."

With a nod of realisation, I headed toward the garden to make some urgent phone calls. The person responsible for this deserved punishment, and I was determined to deliver it in my own way.

A FEW MINUTES LATER…

As I made my way to the study room, where the culprit behind Ava's sabotaged pasta awaited, the loud voice on the other side of the door became increasingly distinct. The person was in a heated argument over the phone, berating someone with phrases like, "What? What do you mean by accident? How can you be so careless? How can—"

As I reached the door frame, I chose that moment to interrupt the call, stepping into the room with a smirk. "They weren't careless," I interjected, looking at the person before me. "They were overly cautious. Yet, my associate managed to turn your dreams into a warm and beautiful fire. Yes, it's me. I'm the one who orchestrated the arson at Martha Textiles. Consider it my return gift, Martha."

Margaret's revelation about Martha Alfred Forbes, my stepmother, and her role in commanding Sarah to add a whole container of red chilli powder echoed in my mind as I began to approach Martha.

"It's your stepmom, Martha Alfred Forbes. She is the one who commanded Sarah to put a container full of red chilli powder in the pasta prepared by Ava baby. "

To be continued…