Chapter 127: I lose a few screws every now and then
Dorothy’s expression contorted as she clenched her jaw, her sharp gaze fixed on Noran.
"Do you remember now?" Noran asked coldly, leaning back in her chair.
Martha let out a humorless laugh.
They had nearly lost their business partnership with the Sterlings despite apologizing. A single warning from Grace Sterling had been enough to shake both their families.
And it had all happened because Dorothy had dragged them into bullying her own stepdaughter.
Who would have imagined that the very daughter Dorothy secretly despised would become the treasured daughter-in-law of the Sterling family?
Back then, they had genuinely believed Juliana was the one who deserved Dominic Sterling.
Hana and Priscila exchanged uneasy glances before looking at Dorothy.
"Dorothy... is what Noran is saying true?" Hana asked carefully.
None of them had expected to witness three women, once known for their inseparable friendship, turn against one another so openly.
The confidence with which Noran and Martha spoke made it difficult to dismiss their accusations.
For years, everyone had believed Dorothy was a woman who always had the upper hand. Yet now, for the first time, she seemed completely cornered.
"What nonsense are you talking about?" Dorothy snapped. "I never did any of those things."
Noran stared at her in disbelief.
"You still won’t admit it?" Her anger finally boiled over.
She slammed her palm against the table, causing the delicate teacups to rattle.
"Because of you, my husband nearly lost one of the biggest contracts our company had! Martha’s family almost disowned her after what happened!"
Her voice echoed through the room.
"Don’t pretend you didn’t ruin our lives, Dorothy. If we’d known you were taking us there just to bully your stepdaughter and shut down her bakery, we never would have gone with you."
A collective gasp spread around the table.
"So the rumors were true..." one of the women whispered.
"I always knew she disliked her stepdaughter," another woman remarked. "After all, who willingly accepts the child born from her husband’s affair?"
Hana folded her arms, a mocking smile tugging at her lips.
"No wonder you tried so hard to make Dominic choose Juliana instead. Who knows? Maybe you even had Juliana medically examined to prove she could produce a healthy heir."
Several women laughed under their breath.
Martha watched silently, a faint smile appearing on her face.
Everyone had known Dorothy wasn’t particularly fond of Clara, but they had never imagined she would go so far as to publicly humiliate and sabotage her while pretending to be a caring stepmother.
The hypocrisy disgusted them.
"Stop it!"
Dorothy suddenly shot to her feet, her voice piercing through the room.
The elegant composure she had maintained all afternoon finally shattered.
"They’re lying!" she shouted, pointing accusingly at Noran and Martha. "None of that is true!"
Despite the panic rising inside her, she desperately tried to maintain her confidence.
Unfortunately, Martha wasn’t finished.
"If you’re telling the truth," Martha said calmly as she reached into her handbag, "then you won’t mind everyone seeing what really happened."
Dorothy’s face instantly drained of color.
She watched in horror as Martha pulled out her phone.
Impossible...
Juliana had assured her that every trace of the bakery livestream had been deleted. Then why did Martha look so certain?
A cold shiver ran down Dorothy’s spine. Without another word, Martha tapped her screen, and the recorded livestream began to play.
The voices from the bakery echoed clearly through the quiet tea room.
Every woman watched the video in stunned silence.
There was Dorothy, belittling Clara, and attempting to use her influence to shut down the bakery. But what shocked them was how Dorothy put the strand in Martha’s coffee while pretending to act normal.
"She put that strand—" Hana almost yelped, leaving Dorothy with utmost humiliation.
No amount of denial could erase what everyone was seeing with their own eyes.
When the video ended, every gaze slowly turned toward Dorothy.
Her confident mask finally cracked. Whispers immediately spread around the table.
"So this is how she treats her stepdaughter."
"And she pretended to accept that poor girl all these years."
"What a terrifying woman."
Priscila shook her head in disappointment.
"It clearly shows how much she despises Clara."
Another woman spoke with narrowed eyes.
"Now I’m beginning to wonder if the story about Clara’s birth was fabricated as well. Perhaps Dorothy and Vincent twisted the truth only to protect their reputation and save their business."
"She had the nerve to expose Fiona earlier," someone scoffed, "while hiding something far worse about herself."
The murmurs grew louder with each passing second.
Every judgment, every mocking glance, every whispered insult struck Dorothy like a slap across the face.
Only moments ago, she had watched Fiona become the laughingstock of the gathering.
Now, fate had turned the tables.
She had become the center of everyone’s ridicule.
For the first time in years, Dorothy stood frozen, unable to defend herself as the humiliation she had inflicted on others came crashing back upon her.
***
Later that evening, as the rush hour came to an end and the number of customers gradually thinned out, Clara sat alone at one of the café tables, lost in thought.
She unlocked her phone and reread the message Mark had sent her earlier.
[Madam, are you trying to get me killed? If Boss finds out I’m secretly helping you, he’ll send me to Mars.]
Clara couldn’t help but laugh.
She could vividly picture Mark crouching in a corner, clutching his head and dramatically begging her not to drag him into another one of her plans.
"Poor Mark," she muttered with a grin. "He’s already planning his funeral."
Still, she couldn’t blame him.
If she wanted solid evidence against Thomas, she needed someone she could trust completely. Mark was one of the few people capable of helping her, even if he complained every step of the way.
As she continued staring at the screen, a hesitant voice interrupted her thoughts.
"Madam..."
Clara looked up.
Gen stood in front of her with both hands hidden behind her back. She kept shifting her weight from one foot to the other, looking as though she had accidentally broken something expensive.
Clara blinked.
"Gen."
"Y-Yes?"
"I know I lose a few screws every now and then...but don’t make me believe it"
"..."