Chapter 163: Stuck In Between
Richard, who had been standing outside the treatment room, felt the blood drain from his face when his eyes landed on Owen. The man strode down the corridor with the same arrogance as ever, flanked by his men, yet what froze Richard in place wasn’t Owen’s presence. It was Evelyn, walking beside him.
She looked pale, her eyes wide with fear, her lips pressed tightly as though holding back sobs. Richard’s chest tightened painfully.
"What are you doing here?" Richard demanded, his voice rough, unsteady. His breathing grew heavier the longer his gaze lingered on his wife.
He had been so careful all this time, guarding her day and night, knowing Owen’s obsession and cruelty could one day reach her. But today, today, with everything falling apart at once, he had slipped. For a moment, he’d allowed his focus to scatter. And Owen had seized it.
Richard instinctively reached for Evelyn, his hand stretching out to pull her to his side, to shield her the way he always had. But before he could even touch her, Owen lifted his cane, a subtle signal. His men immediately stepped forward, forming a wall between them.
Richard froze, his outstretched hand curling into a fist. His teeth clenched as his eyes locked on Owen.
"I have to admit," Owen drawled, the smirk tugging at his lips venomous, "your security has been impressive these past years. I couldn’t get near any of your precious family."
He leaned on his cane, tilting his head as though savoring the moment, then added in a lower, mocking tone, "Oh... except for one. The one who slipped while hiking, isn’t it?"
Richard’s breath hitched, rage flaring in his chest. His hands trembled at his sides, nails biting into his palms.
Evelyn’s head snapped toward Owen, her lips parting in a whisper that cracked with grief. "Julian..."
Owen chuckled, rubbing the bridge of his nose though there was no itch to soothe. "Ah, that boy’s name was Julian, wasn’t it?" His voice was almost casual, as if recalling a trivial detail. He leaned closer to Evelyn, his cane tapping the floor with an eerie rhythm.
"All I did," he whispered, his breath brushing her ear, "was ask someone to carefully... push him."
Evelyn’s body stiffened, her hand flying to her mouth as tears welled in her eyes.
Richard took a step forward, fury blazing in his stare. "You—"
He surged forward, but Owen’s men, halting him. The old man’s lips curled into a venomous smirk.
"Careful, Richard," Owen drawled, his voice dripping with mockery. "We’re in a public place. Do you really want to make a scene in front of the hospital staff and your precious reputation?"
His men chuckled slowly, forming a barrier between Richard and Evelyn. Owen tilted his head, eyes glinting with satisfaction. "One wrong move from you... and suddenly, it won’t just be gossip they whisper about the Kingsleys. It’ll be a weakness."
Evelyn’s shoulders trembled as she clutched the hem of her dress, her eyes darting desperately between her husband and Owen.
Richard’s fists clenched at his sides, his whole body shaking from the effort of holding himself back. "Let my wife go..." He clenched his teeth, "Tell me what do you want?"
Owen grinned, "That is the question that I’ve been waiting for. What do I want?" He snickered, "You know, what I want is actually something simple... hand me back Daisy..."
"Something?" Richard frowned and deepened, "She is not a thing and Owen, she had nothing to do with our grudge..."
Owen’s grin widened, his eyes glinting with venom. "Nothing to do with it? Don’t make me laugh, Richard. She’s my granddaughter by blood, and now she’s carrying your cursed Kingsley name because of that marriage. You think I can just let that humiliation slide?"
He leaned on his cane, tapping it against the floor with a mocking rhythm. "She’s the stain on my name. Hand her over, and maybe... just maybe... I’ll let your wife walk out of here."
Evelyn shook her head violently, her voice breaking. "No! Don’t you dare, Richard. Don’t give him what he wants!"
But Richard’s glare never wavered, his chest tightening as his fists clenched. "You won’t lay a finger on her. Daisy is not yours to claim. She’s not a bargaining chip."
Owen chuckled low, tilting his head as if amused. "Oh, Richard... She is mine. She carries my blood, my legacy, whether you like it or not. And if she’s going to spit on the Kennedy name, then I’ll decide how her story ends."
"You never recognized her before!" Jasmine’s voice crack as she stepped out from the treatment room, her eyes burning with tears and fury.
"All those years, you called her dirty... half-blood... not fit to stand under the Kennedy name. Do you even remember? You met her three... no, four times. And every single time, you—" her breath shook as her eyes watered, "you crushed an eight-year-old girl with words no child should ever hear."
Her chest heaved as she pressed a hand to it, her voice breaking. "And I—I was no better. I didn’t defy you before because I believed you. I thought... I was nothing without you." Her hands twisted at her sleeves. "Since I was a child you have called me useless, stupid. I grew up hearing it until I believed it. I wanted your approval more than I wanted to be a mother. I thought if I did what you wanted, I would be worth something."
She swallowed hard, tears tracking down her face. "So I repeated your words to Daisy. I thought that was how to survive in your shadow. I thought begging for your forgiveness would be easier than losing you." Her voice cracked. "I should’ve protected her. I failed my own daughter."
For a beat the corridor held its breath. Even Owen’s smirk stalled for a fraction of a second before it returned, colder than before.
"You made your bed, Jasmine," he said, voice smooth and cruel. "No one asked you to be noble."
Jasmine flinched at the barb but didn’t look away. She folded herself smaller, not from fear now but from shame and the weight of years. "Maybe," she said quietly, "but I’m done pretending it was right. I will try to fix it, even if it’s the last thing I do."