Chapter 482
Chapter 482:
“I got it,” Cristian said, then abruptly hung up.
Listening to the beeping in his Bluetooth headset, Bobby was overwhelmed with frustration at not being able to finish his story.
He sighed deeply. Cristian was truly heartless.
Here he was, spending his entire day with Fernanda, partly for Cristian’s benefit, and not even a thank you in return.
Disappointed, Bobby shook his head, gripped the steering wheel a little tighter, and drove into the garage.
When Fernanda got home, Michelle and Erika were already lounging around.
Erika shot a quick look at Fernanda, zeroing in on the bag she was carrying. She tried to make out the contents but failed, so she turned away with a huff.
Recent setbacks had tamed Erika’s fiery spirit somewhat; she wasn’t quick to snap at Fernanda anymore. Yet, faking a smile was still out of the question.
“Fernanda, you’re back,” Michelle called out, her voice bubbling with warmth. “Where have you been? Did you find the dress you wanted?”
“Yes,” Fernanda replied, keeping it brief, and made her way upstairs.
Only when Fernanda disappeared at the top of the stairs did Erika let her true feelings spill.
“Who knows what kind of garbage she’s dragged back from some dingy thrift store. Look at that bag—cheap as dirt. I swear, if she shows up in some garish outfit, she’ll be the laughing stock of the whole town!”
Robert, who placed a high value on appearances, frowned at Erika’s harsh words.
Ector, always the mediator, placed a soothing cup of coffee before Robert and whispered, “Dad, chill. Fernanda’s got a knack for this sort of thing.”
As if on cue, Fernanda’s voice floated down from the staircase, cool and collected. “Let’s not be too quick to judge. Some folks might dress to the nines, but scratch the surface, and there’s not much to them.”
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With a mischievous twinkle in her eye, Fernanda swept a gaze over the room and then strolled into the kitchen to grab a glass of water.
Except for Ector, faces in the living room soured.
They caught the drift of Fernanda’s words. She was slyly throwing shade their way.
The day before the grand banquet, Fernanda was tucked away at home, deep in the throes of an online assignment, when her housemaid, Paula Seymour, tapped lightly on her door. “Miss Morgan, there’s a package for you!”
Fernanda swung the door open, received the hefty box from Paula, and expressed her gratitude.
The parcel, marked with her name, hailed from a local courier service. Curiosity piqued, Fernanda didn’t recall ordering anything lately, which only deepened the mystery of the sender.
.
.
.