Chapter 9
Nancy ignored Timothy’s crying and focused on Sydney’s face. “Ms. Wilson, are you alright? You know how nasty the Internet can be. Those photos could be fake. Just wait for Mr. Hampton to come home and talk to him in person.”
Sydney hummed softly, spooned her stew, and took slow, careful sips. Real or not, it didn’t matter. She had seen it all with her own eyes last night. There was nothing left to ask.
Only then did Nancy notice the swelling around her eyes. After a brief pause, she turned and went upstairs to call the Hampton residence.
“Yes, Madam. Ms. Wilson probably saw the news already. She skipped lunch, and her eyes are swollen from crying,” she reported.
No one at the Hampton residence had been following celebrity gossip. But once the news
reached them, chaos erupted.
The younger brother and the widowed sister–in–law? What kind of scandal was that? How was the family supposed to face society now?
Dorothy popped two heart pills, but they didn’t help. Furious, she fainted on the spot.
The entire household was in disarray.
In contrast, Sydney seemed strangely calm. She finished her soup at an easy pace, then went
upstairs under Nancy’s watchful eye, her swollen eyes adding to her pitiful air.
As soon as her bedroom door shut, a call came in from Tiffany.
“Okay, listen, it wasn’t me!” Her voice was tense, desperate to clear her name. “Did you see the angle of those pics? Completely different from the ones I took.”
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“I know,” Sydney said as she stepped into the bathroom and switched to speaker. She took an eye mask from the mini fridge. “You didn’t leak them right away. And even if you had, you’d definitely blackmail Caleb first.”
She’d already looked into it. The photos had started circulating last night but only went
viral a few hours ago. The spread had been too natural. Too clean. Someone had planned it.
It was most likely a business rival of Caleb’s.
Tiffany scoffed. “Ugh, don’t say that. I’m a lawyer, alright? A real one. I don’t do blackmail.”
“Mm, sure,” Sydney said, smoothing the eye mask over her face. “You’d just charge a
management fee for proof of cheating.”
“Unbelievable,” Tiffany muttered with a half–laugh. Then she paused, her tone shifting. “But won’t this whole mess ruin your plans? And seriously, who hates him enough to leak it now?”
She added, half–joking, “Is this a love triangle revenge plot? Someone else in love with Penelope?”
“Doubt it.” Sydney shook her head, her voice muffled beneath the mask. “Doesn’t matter. As long as it doesn’t get in my way.”
If she had confronted Caleb and Penelope, she’d just looked bitter and emotional. But now
that the story had exploded online, she was the wronged wife–the victim.
That evening, Nancy prepared all of Sydney’s favorite dishes. But she was still hungover and queasy. She barely managed half a bowl of rice and left the rest untouched.
Nancy sighed. “Don’t let this eat you alive. Madam Hampton was so angry she ended up in the hospital. She’s determined to make things right. She asked me to take care of you and said she’ll visit once she’s stable.”
“She’s in the hospital?” Sydney frowned. “Why didn’t anyone tell me?”
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“Everyone feels awful about what happened,” Nancy said as she cleared the table. “And you’ve been crying so much. No one wanted to upset you more.”
Sydney blinked. ‘I’ve been crying?‘
She wasn’t heartbroken. She had known about those two for a while. What was there to cry
about?
Nancy misunderstood her silence. She thought Sydney was just holding in her pain. That’s what women did when they married into wealthy families, right? They swallowed their
tears and carried on.
Sydney caught the sympathy in Nancy’s gaze but didn’t bother correcting her. She was still
Caleb’s wife. With her husband’s affair splashed across a gossip site, it made sense for her
to look devastated.
She checked the time and stood. “I’m going to the hospital to see Grandma.”
Sydney had barely reached the foyer when the familiar hum of a black Maybach pulled into the driveway. Before she could change her shoes, Caleb strode in swiftly, his presence cold
and intense.
