Chapter 8 I Won’t Help You

Delphine shot a cold glare at Erin—that woman always tried to play peacemaker.

Did she not know exactly what kind of people her grandson and two grandchildren were?

Now that they were bringing this matter to the old master, things might not turn out in her favor.

She had done it on purpose!

But Amanda was far too arrogant. Someone needed to put her in her place—and who better than the old master? As long as he didn’t side with her, how long could she last in the Schmidt family?

This was also a good opportunity to observe where the old master stood on things.

A bride brought in just to ward off misfortune really thought she was something?

The night was deep and still, only occasionally disturbed by the sound of footsteps.

The group made their way toward Rosewood Garden, where the old master resided.

No one noticed the moment when Benjamin, lying on his bed, suddenly opened his eyes, then slowly closed them again—so fast it was almost an illusion.

On the way there, Mark glared and said coldly, “I won’t help you.” His little face was taut with defiance.

Amanda couldn’t help but laugh. She gently pinched his small nose, her gaze full of affection.

“I don’t need your help. I came to protect you, baby.”

Upon hearing that, Mark felt a sudden warmth in his heart.

In that moment, he thought: If Mom left because she had no choice… maybe I shouldn’t hope she’ll come back.

Everyone here was selfish.

Each and every one of them wanted him and his father dead.

They soon arrived at Rosewood Garden, a quiet and peaceful place.

The old master was sitting in the main hall, sipping tea.

As the group entered, Amanda kept her eyes down demurely.

The old man’s expression darkened as he took in the commotion. What are they making a fuss about this late at night?

Then he noticed Amanda standing at the front. She looked slightly aggrieved. He frowned and asked, “Amanda, what’s going on?”

Amanda lowered her eyes and glanced at him, hesitant to speak, looking like she was holding back something difficult to say.

“Great-grandfather,” Charlie blurted out, “this woman fed us mud. So we brought mud for her to eat too! Grandma said to kick this little tramp out! Auntie brought a whole bowl of mud for her to eat!”

Just as Amanda had expected, the idiotic Charlie would speak up on her behalf without even realizing it.

Delphine shot a glare at her foolish grandson. Useless!

She turned to the old master, putting on a composed smile. “Father, it’s like this. The three children came running back home crying, saying Amanda fed them mud. I was just too angry and went to confront her. I never said those things. The children must have misunderstood.”

Eunice jumped in, fanning the flames. “Grandfather, Amanda is way too arrogant. She actually thinks she’s some high-and-mighty young madam of the Schmidt family. Feeding my kids mud? Grandfather, we should throw her out. What good is a woman like her? Even Uncle won’t like someone like that!”

The old master narrowed his eyes at Amanda, who still had her head bowed in silent grievance. She looked well-behaved, like someone who wouldn’t do such a thing.

“Amanda, you tell me. What happened?”

Then he saw Mark in her arms—his eyes lit up.

That child! He normally couldn’t even get close to him. And yet he let Amanda carry him?

It seemed Amanda was even better than he had imagined.

Amanda hesitated, bit her lip, and finally said in a quiet, pained voice:

“Dad, I did feed them mud. But things weren’t the way they said. The three of them ganged up on Mark, and when they refused to apologize, I gave them mud as punishment.”

“Heh... Amanda, you’re really good at twisting the truth,” Eunice sneered. “Clearly you wanted to assert dominance the moment you stepped into the Schmidt family. But taking it out on children? You’re downright vicious.”

She couldn’t stand women like Amanda—ones who looked delicate but had pride running deep in their bones.

Now that Benjamin was presumed dead, the Schmidt family’s power might soon be divided. And here Amanda was, stirring the pot. No one was going to tolerate her.

Delphine jumped in too: “Father, this Amanda is out of line. I ask you to uphold justice for my three grandchildren. Forcing them to eat dirt—it’s traumatized them! This could seriously affect their emotional development!”

Amanda gave her a cold glance, voice slow but steady:

“Madam, if you want to talk about who’s really twisting the truth… well, the evidence speaks for itself, doesn’t it?”