Stella’s expression hardened. “Let’s go.”
They hurried down to the garage. Miley’s car sat untouched, the driver’s side door hanging ajar.
A cold dread settled over Stella. “Something’s wrong,” she muttered, her frown deepening.
In the grand mansion by the sea, the gentle sea breeze dances through the courtyard, whispering among the trees.
With a smile, Bertha Pierce addressed Miley, “You’re clever. Yes, Neville’s my grandson.”
Motioning towards the chair opposite her, she added, “Please, have a seat.”
Miley met Bertha’s gaze and sensed her intention right away.
Unfazed, she replied, “You didn’t need to go to such Lengths to bring me here. If you need something, you can just tell me.”
“Let go of your anger.” Bertha smiled as she gestured towards the coffee on the table. “You’ve traveled far. Take a break with some coffee.”
Eyeing the coffee on the table, Miley remained cautious. “Thanks for offering, but coffee’s not really my thing.”
“What a pity! This coffee’s all the way from Saint Helena. It’s got this smooth flavor,” Bertha said, devoid of any hint of disappointment.
Sipping from her coffee cup, she asked, “Miss Cullen, what’s your take on Neville?”
In an honest tone, Miley expressed, “He’s a great guy, always kind to me. We’ve been through a lot to be together again. I really love him. Whatever comes our way, I’ll stick by his side.”
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With a serene face, Bertha said, “I believe in your love. I’ve been young too, you know. Back then, I was head over heels for someone who consumed my thoughts entirely. But…”
Casting a glance at Miley, she changed the topic. “But you can’t be Neville’s wife.”
Miley bit her lip and clenched her fists.
Bertha cautioned, “Don’t bring up love when reality stares us in the face. If you stick with him, he’ll face hardship ahead, and you won’t be able to lend a hand.”
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With determination shining in her eyes, Miley took a deep breath and replied, “I get where you’re coming from. But I’ve got my own path to follow, and I’ll do everything I can to support Neville. I won’t be a hindrance to him.”
With a scornful snort, Bertha retorted, “Your career? Did you mean that modeling agency you’re managing now? You can’t afford more staff, so you also model, posing intimately with various men. And back in college, your so-called part-time job was actually stripping in a club.”
In the calmest voice imaginable, Bertha unleashed the cruelest words.
Each word felt like a sharp needle, stabbing into Miley’s skin and reopening old wounds.
She clenched her teeth tightly as her face turned pale.
Just a couple of years back, she was in college, eager to start her own business. But the catch was, it needed a lot of money.
Caught in a moment of worry, she trusted others and accidentally ended up as a dancer in a club.