Chapter 6
Chapter 6
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The moment she spotted the familiar car pulling into the driveway, a flicker of panic flashed in her eyes.
She shot Lottie a sharp glare. “You did this on purpose. Didn’t you? This was all your doing!”
“Esther, what are you talking about?” Lottie blinked, wide-eyed. “I was upstairs just now, wrapping a gift for Nigel. How could you blame this on me…”
Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, the picture of someone unfairly wronged.
That was the scene Marcelo Cervantes-house steward of the Mathis family estate-walked in on.
His eyes swept over the chaos inside the house, his expression tightening at the sheer mess. Then he turned to Esther, voice calm but unmistakably firm.
“Esther, Erma asked me to deliver a message. Since your parenting has clearly failed, she’ll begin by disciplining you.”
Esther’s lips parted. “What did you say?”
Marcelo gestured toward the courtyard. “She asks that you bow outside. For three hours.”
“Marcelo…”
Lottie opened her mouth, but before she could get a word out, Marcelo raised a hand with a warm smile. “Mrs. Math- is, please don’t plead on her behalf. You’ve been through a lot these past few days with the funeral. Focus on taking care of yourself.”
That wasn’t what she meant to say.
She’d only wanted to ask whether Erma Mathis was feeling better-so she could choose the right moment to bring up the divorce.
Even though Nigel ran Mathis Group, when it came to family matters, the old estate still held all the power.
No matter how much Esther resisted, she had no choice but to bow.
In the dead of winter.
Honestly, it served her right.
Lottie didn’t spare her another glance and turned to go upstairs.
Corinne hesitated behind her. “Mrs. Mathis… what about the painting?”
“Don’t worry,” Lottie said lightly. “Someone will come pick it up later. Once it’s repaired, I’ll have it sent back.”
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Chapter 6
Of course, she didn’t mention that the painting downstairs was a fake.
The real one had already been sent to a friend’s gallery for exhibition.
Safe and sound.
After all, Jospeh’s greatest wish before he passed was for his artwork to be seen by more people.
Leaving it to collect dust in a private home would’ve been a waste.
“You mean woman!”
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Lottie had just set foot on the stairs when Rolland shouted at her, full of spite. “I already called Nigel! When he gets back, you’re done for!”
“I’ll wait,” she replied calmly.
“He’s gonna divorce you! Then you’ll be a worthless cast-off that nobody wants!”
Lottie let out a quiet laugh. “He’s not going to listen to you.”
Because as much as he and Esther pretended otherwise, they still needed her-Lottic-the respectable wife, to cover up their mess.
The moment the divorce was official, it would be all over. A single man and his deceased brother’s wife, living under the same roof?
Esther’s reputation would be destroyed.
And Nigel would never let that happen.
He returned fast.
Esther had barely been bowing twenty minutes when his car pulled in.
He stepped out in a long black cashmere coat, tall and poised, the cold air sharpening the quiet authority in his pres-
ence.
Without saying a word, he rushed over, scooped Esther into his arms, and carried her inside.
He laid her down on the couch. His gaze was filled with raw,
unhidden concern.
“What were you thinking?” he muttered. “They told you to bow, so you just did it?”
“She’s Grandma. What choice did I have?” Esther murmured.
Esther lightly tugged at Nigel’s sleeve, her eyes red, voice trembling. “Nigel… can’t you just divorce her? She’s scary… really.”
Nigel’s brows drew together. “You mean Lottie?”
“Yes.” Esther bit her lower lip. “Do you know why Rolland destroyed Grandpa’s painting? She led him into it-on pur- pose.”
“She’s right!”
