Chapter 931
Chapter 931:
At the entrance, she swapped her boots for slippers, hung up her trench coat, and turned to find several pairs of eyes watching her from the living room.
“Oh, Fernanda?” Robert looked genuinely surprised, still holding his phone.
“What kind of magic trick did you pull to get here so fast?”
“I was already at the door when you called,” Fernanda said. “I just walked in. No magic involved.”
Robert grinned. “I don’t know about that. From where I’m standing, you are the magic. Just when I start missing you, you show up—like we’re on the same wavelength.”
Fernanda dropped onto the sofa, picking up a lighter from the coffee table and rolling it between her fingers. She didn’t bother responding.
Selma scoffed, crossing her arms. “Oh, I didn’t expect you to be back. Thought you ran off with those penniless Coopers.”
Fernanda chuckled softly, not even sparing Selma a glance. “What I do is none of your business. Why are you making a fuss over nothing?”
Selma bristled. “How can you speak to me like that?”
“Mom, relax. Isn’t it a good thing for Fernanda to reconnect with her relatives?” Michelle quickly stepped in, tugging Selma back. “She’s just keeping ties with the Coopers—there’s nothing wrong with that.”
“Keeping ties? Funny how she has time for them but not for us. Let’s be real—she couldn’t care less about us.” Selma scoffed, folding her arms.
“With someone like you in the Morgan family, why would I?” Fernanda’s voice was even, but her words were razor-sharp. “You can’t even manage basic manners. Just a bitter old woman who thinks she runs the place.”
She knew Selma’s kind—loud, self-important, and quick to anger. And Fernanda? She had no problem striking where it hurt.
Right on cue, Selma’s temper flared.
gⲁ𝗅𝗇𝗈ν𝖊𝗅𝘀.𝗰𝗈𝗺, 𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗲 𝒸𝗁𝒶𝓅𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓈 𝗼𝗻
It never took much. Just seeing Fernanda was enough to put her on edge, but being spoken to like this? That was the real insult.
Fernanda flipped the lighter open and shut, her tone flat. “Didn’t I tell you last time to get out of my mother’s house? Why are you still here?”
Michelle yanked Selma back onto the sofa before she could lunge forward. “Your mother’s house?” Selma hissed, her voice sharp enough to cut glass. Her high cheekbones jutted as she sneered. “This belongs to my son-in-law! What was your mother’s name again? Gracie Morgan, right? Well, the contract says Lacie Morgan. That’s not your mother, is it?”
Fernanda’s grip on the lighter tightened. Her eyes narrowed.
Oh, so that was their plan. No wonder they weren’t worried—they had a loophole to lean on. They were utterly shameless.
When Fernanda didn’t respond, Selma’s smugness only grew. She took the silence as victory, lifting her chin with a derisive snort.
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