Chapter 7

Each word Yale spat was accompanied by a punch landing on Madeline.

Madeline shielded herself with her purse, narrowly avoiding a serious injury. Blinded by anger, she had not thought things through, never imagining Yale would actually hit her.

Pregnancy had left her weak, and she could only dodge Yale's vicious blows in a clumsy dance of desperation.

The Sanders family seemed petrified by the spectacle, each too scared to even twitch.

Cilix wanted to speak, but Skylar cut him off. "What's Yale got, a little muscle? Let her take a hit. It might teach her to listen."

Cilix's face darkened as he sat back down.

She had written her dad off long ago, but the sting of disappointment was as sharp as ever.

As Yale moved in again, Madeline knew she was on her own. With a swift kick, she toppled a chair and snatched a fruit knife from the table, aiming it straight at him.

"One more step, and I swear I'll stab you!"

Yale, thrown off by the chair, nearly slipped.

He wiped his mouth and sneered. "You think you've got the guts?"

Knife in hand, Madeline's face was ghostly, but her eyes blazed with defiance, "Try me. I'm still Mrs. Gibson of the Gibson family. If I take you down, they'll make sure it never sees the light of day."

Her gaze flicked to Cilix. "You think our dad's got the spine to cross the Gibsons for you?"

Yale did not budge.

Skylar stepped forward with a nervous chuckle. "Come on, we're family. Knives? Really? Madeline, put it down."

Madeline looked at Skylar icily and aimed the knife at her. "Stay back."

Skylar froze, then looked pleadingly at Cilix.

Cilix broke the silence. "Madeline, what's going on?"

Madeline stood there with a cold expression, ignoring the blood that had started to drip from the corner of her mouth. She bit her lip, refusing to say a word.

The recent scuffle had taken a toll on her, leaving her with a heavy feeling in her chest. She was afraid she would throw up if she opened her mouth. However, she was determined not to let them see her weakness.

Amid the tense moment, the nanny burst in with unexpected joy. "Mr. Gibson and Ms. Sanders have arrived!"

The pair entered the room.

Trevon's face was a mask of seriousness, his lips pressed into a thin line.

Lydia, catching sight of the knife in Madeline's grip, let out a sharp cry. "Madeline! Why are you holding a knife? What are you planning to do?"

Cilix rose swiftly to welcome Trevon. "Mr. Gibson, please come in. Let's sit and talk. Madeline, put that knife down now."

With a glance at Trevon, Madeline reluctantly set the knife aside.

Skylar exhaled in relief and grumbled, "This is all Madeline's doing, causing a scene for no reason. Since when do we bring knives into family disputes?"

Madeline inhaled deeply, pushing down the wave of nausea, and retorted with a frosty laugh.

"So, now it's all my fault, just like that? I'm trying to do the right thing here, and I'm still the one to blame?"

"Is this enough for you?"

Trevon's voice, frosty and laced with anger, cut through the room. He had been feeling sick to his stomach the whole way there.

That sensation had become all too familiar in the last couple of days, and he did not need to guess—it was Madeline's doing again.

He had warned her just at lunchtime to take it easy, but what did she do? She ran off to her family's home to pick a fight, knife in hand.

She might not be bothered by it, but he was fed up.

The room fell silent.

Madeline looked at him in disbelief. Was he really going to blame her without even asking why?

Trevon had no interest in dragging out the conversation. He grabbed Madeline's hand and led her away with urgency.

Madeline stumbled as he pulled her along, a sharp pain throbbing in her heart.

Lydia tried to keep up, her voice tinged with concern. "Trevon, you haven't eaten yet."

He barely paused, his voice dismissive. "Some other time."

With that, he ushered Madeline into the car and shut the door behind her.