Marrying My Ex's Ruthless Billionaire Uncle

Before Emaline could even process the shock of seeing Abdiel sitting there, Eleanora Hayes stepped into the hallway, physically blocking Emaline from entering the drawing room any further. The older woman's face was twisted in a mask of aristocratic disdain.

"Why on earth did you bring her inside?" Eleanora hissed at Alastair, her voice dripping with venom.

"Mom, the hospital is threatening to cut off her mother's treatment. She just needs a loan," Alastair muttered, refusing to meet Emaline's eyes.

"A loan? You are not engaged to her anymore!" Eleanora sneered, crossing her arms over her cashmere cardigan. "She's just using this pathetic sob story as an excuse to cling to you. Get her out of here, Alastair. Looking at her takes ten years off my life."

Emaline's blood boiled, the sheer audacity of the woman burning away her embarrassment. "Mrs. Hayes, you used to parade me around your country club and call me the daughter you never had. Now I take years off your life? Is it because my family is broke and we're no longer useful to your social climbing?"

"That was before your father went bankrupt in a federal scandal and your mother ended up in the intensive care unit!" Eleanora shot back, her face flushing with ugly color. "Alastair's career is taking off. He needs a partner who elevates his status, not a charity case that drags him into the gutter! We owe you nothing!"

"I'm not here to drag him anywhere," Emaline snapped, her blue eyes flashing with lethal steel. "I'm here for a fraction of the five million my father injected into your failing logistics company two years ago."

"Alastair, darling, who's at the door?" a sickly-sweet, high-pitched voice echoed from the top of the sweeping mahogany staircase.

Emaline looked up, and her jaw dropped in sheer disbelief. Tiffany Sterling was descending the staircase. Tiffany was notorious in their social circle-a spoiled, mean-spirited heiress who had always been obsessed with Alastair. She strutted down the steps wearing a Chanel tweed suit, acting entirely like the lady of the manor, and immediately wrapped her manicured hand possessively around Alastair's bicep. A massive square-cut diamond flashed on her ring finger.

"Well, well. If it isn't Emaline," Tiffany smirked, her eyes raking over Emaline's wrinkled, day-old cocktail dress. "I heard your family lost everything. What are you doing here? Looking for handouts from my fiancé?"

Emaline stared at Alastair, a wave of pure disgust washing over her. "Tiffany Sterling? Really, Alastair? You always said she looked like a walking malpractice suit with all that bad filler and terrible contouring. Now you're letting her play house?"

Tiffany's face turned a violent shade of beet red. "Excuse me?!"

"You heard me," Emaline didn't back down, stepping closer. "You always wanted to be the center of attention, Tiffany, but buying your way into a man's bed with your daddy's portfolio doesn't make you a prize. It makes you a transaction."

"Emaline!" Tiffany shrieked, her poise completely shattering. "You broke, pathetic bitch! How dare you speak to me like that!"

"Ema, stop it!" Alastair jumped in, stepping in front of Tiffany to defend her. "Tiffany has been nothing but supportive of me and my family! If you're going to come into my home and insult her and my mother, you can leave!"

"Oh, I'm the one insulting people?" Emaline laughed bitterly, her voice ringing clear through the foyer. "Your mother is a gold-digging hypocrite who sold you out to the highest bidder the second my family's accounts ran dry, and you just rolled over and took it like a coward!"

Eleanora gasped, clutching her pearls as if she had been physically struck. "How dare you!"

"Alastair, make her pay for that!" Tiffany yelled, shoving Alastair forward by his shoulders. "Slap her! Teach this trash a lesson!"