SLAP!
A sharp slap cut Claire’s words short.
Claire slumped delicately to the floor, her face streaming with tears. "Estelle, you really misunderstood me... I didn’t..."
"Claire!" Hearing the commotion, Evan hurried over. He arrived to see Claire collapsed on the stairs, clutching her cheek in a picture of fragile distress.
Evan’s eyes flashed with reproach. "Miss Lockwood! Claire already said you misunderstood her. She didn’t do it on purpose. Why did you hit her?"
Estelle sneered.
Her gaze swept over him coldly. "I didn’t expect Mr. Yeats, a man nearing thirty, to be so blind and utterly brainless.
"Out of all the places Miss Yeats could have chosen to apologize, she insisted on the stairwell. A stairwell that just happened to be slick with spilled oil. And then, by some sheer coincidence, she shoved me. Yet, in Mr. Yeats’s mind, this is just a ’misunderstanding’?
"Tsk. It seems Mr. Yeats’s brain isn’t functioning properly. I suggest you see a doctor."
Evan’s face flushed red with indignation. "You... Claire didn’t do it on purpose! She’s so kind..."
Claire was the sister he had watched grow up. How could she possibly harm anyone intentionally?
"Right. Even if I had fallen and died on the spot, Mr. Evan Yeats would still claim Claire didn’t do it on purpose."
Estelle flashed a mocking half-smile. "Even if she ’accidentally’ killed someone, she would still be the gentle and kind young lady of the Yeats family, your precious little sister."
For some reason, Evan felt an inexplicable surge of irritation, as if the perfect reality he had fabricated had just been punctured. "Miss Lockwood, you..."
"Don’t be in such a rush. I’m not finished," Estelle interrupted. "Let me think. What exactly is going through the mind of the kind and ’pure as the driven snow’ Mr. Yeats?
"You must be thinking that even if I died, you’d have ten thousand ways to exonerate Claire. After all, she is a member of the Yeats family, and a scandal like this absolutely cannot be leaked.
"You would use money to buy off my family. And if they refused, Mr. Evan Yeats would probably wear that ’pure as paper’ face of yours and ask in bewildered indignation, ’Is all this money still not enough?’"
From the very first time she laid eyes on Mr. Yeats, Estelle knew that the public’s assessment of him being "pure as paper" was far too polite.
He was an idiot—a fool who lacked self-awareness, both stupid and malicious. Yet Evan himself would never admit to being foolish or wicked. He believed everything he did was righteous.
"Claire is a member of the Yeats family. With that background, even if I died, she wouldn’t have to take responsibility. Two drops of tears would be enough to twist the truth. Perhaps Mr. Evan, to help Miss Yeats cover it up, would even pin the blame on me. You’d say I intentionally tried to harm Miss Yeats, only to slip and fall to my own death.
"Miss Yeats cries a few tears, and Mr. Evan can effortlessly destroy someone else’s life. I’m sure I wasn’t the first, and I certainly won’t be the last."
Estelle ruthlessly tore away Evan’s hypocritical facade. "Am I right, Mr. Evan?"
There was a reason why Evan favored Claire the most in this household. Perhaps this was it—they were two of a kind, equally rotten.
Evan was instantly struck dumb, his face flushing violently as if his deepest, darkest secrets had been laid bare for all to see.
He realized Estelle was very smart, as she could see the situation clearly. After all, if she had been injured or killed today, he indeed would have used the Yeats family’s power to help Claire escape punishment.
He would have announced to the public that Estelle had targeted Claire and died in a botched murder attempt.
After all, Claire was the young lady of the Yeats family, with countless eyes watching her every move. Claire’s reputation was far more important than Estelle’s. Estelle... was just an ordinary person. If she died, she died. How could her life compare to the precious daughter of the Yeats? Dying to protect Claire’s reputation... wasn’t that perfectly reasonable?
But Evan considered himself a kindhearted man. Wanting Estelle dead hadn’t been his original intention. Now that she was fine, all was well. This matter should just blow over.
Taking a deep breath, Evan said, "Miss Lockwood, since you’re unharmed, why don’t we sit down and talk? Is there really a need to be so bitter and caustic?"
Estelle leaned against the wall with her arms crossed, glanced at the security camera once more, and chuckled.
Evan furrowed his brows and said gently, "Miss Lockwood, since you’re fine now... Claire shoved you, and you shoved her back. We should consider this even. But then you slapped her. How... how could you do that?
"Claire’s face is insured, Miss Lockwood. You..." He sighed, looking exasperated. The gaze he leveled at Estelle was akin to looking at a dead woman walking.
Clutching her cheek, Claire finally let out a slow smile.
Her expression was fragile, but every word she spoke was aimed to pierce Estelle’s heart. "Miss Lockwood, my face is insured. Do you have any idea how much it’s worth?"
Estelle’s cheap life wasn’t even worth a fraction of her face. So what if her murder attempt was exposed? What could Estelle possibly do about it?
Putting on a hypocritical front, Claire said, "Evan, it was my fault, too. Even though it was a misunderstanding, Miss Lockwood was frightened. I don’t mind that she hit me. I just want to make it up to her. Let’s compensate her. Would three hundred thousand be enough?"
A gentle smile graced Evan’s lips as he stroked Claire’s hair. "Claire, you’re truly too kindhearted."
But compensation was only right. She had startled someone, so she was willing to pay out three hundred thousand. For an ordinary person, that was a massive sum. Claire was just so...
Filled with gratification, Evan turned back to Estelle, looking at her as if she were the one taking advantage of the situation.
"Miss Lockwood, accept Claire’s compensation, and we’ll put an end to this matter. If you’re short on money, you can just say so next time. There’s no need to stage an accident for a payout like this."
Claire shook her head tearfully. "Evan, don’t say that. Miss Lockwood isn’t the kind of person who would lack three hundred thousand..."
"But it’s a fact that she bullied you on purpose for this money."
Evan frowned. He still felt that Claire was on the losing end. She had suffered such a great grievance, yet she still had to pay out of pocket.
Estelle watched their little two-person act with great interest.
It was quite amusing. With just a few exchanged lines, Claire and Evan had spun a blatant murder attempt into a "misunderstanding" and "horseplay." And then, Claire had taken the initiative to offer "compensation," acting as if she had suffered a massive loss.
Three hundred thousand? To buy her life?
An attempted murder had been twisted into the victim running an extortion scam.
She really should be thankful she hadn’t died today. Otherwise, Claire wouldn’t have even coughed up the three hundred thousand.
Moreover, seeing how practiced they were at this, something like this must have happened many times before.
Estelle’s eyes grew icy. How many people had Claire harmed in the past? Did she have blood on her hands? Had she ruined other people’s lives? And after she ruined them—after she took their lives—did Evan always step in to clean up the mess just like this?