The rowdy crowd immediately fell silent. Most of them were terrified after my outburst, but there were still a few who fearlessly directed their cameras at me.
I knew they could not wait for me to break down and lose my temper. I could already guess the headline they were hoping to publish— “The Unknown Dark Side Of Mrs. Featherstone.”
Unfortunately, I was dead serious at that moment. Not only was I not the least bit afraid of being caught on camera, but I looked straight at the largest camera among them and raised my voice.
“I don’t care which news company you come from, but I’m only going to say this once. Whether or not anyone in my family has committed a crime will naturally be determined by the police. If anything concerning my family leaks out or appears on any news channel, I promise I will sue your company to bankruptcy.”
By the time I ended my speech, all the reporters had meekly shut their camera lenses except for one that was still aiming right at me.
I gazed into the camera lens, smirking derisively. The female reporter hiding behind it poked out her head and met my gaze.
Seeing that, I went on in an even more domineering tone, “I fully support that reporters should have freedom of speech, but anyone who dares to harm my daughter in any way will be up against the entire Featherstone Corporation.”
With that said, I pursed my lips, smiling at the camera with my eyes slightly narrowed.
After staring at me for another five seconds, the female reporter finally gave in as she slowly turned off the equipment she was holding.
Horace scoffed at my firm statement and said sarcastically, “Mrs. Featherstone, that’s rather bold of you to threaten someone in front of the police. Did you forget about the oaths you took when you became a lawyer?”
Threaten someone? I guess he’s right.
I had no qualms about “threatening” people if it meant protecting Summer.
With a smile that did not quite reach my eyes, I replied stiffly, “Whatever you say, sir. I’m sure it would be difficult for any mother to stay calm when her daughter is in trouble. So sue me.”
I paused and turned toward the reporters. “Though, if memory serves me right, you can’t open a case without the victim’s agreement. Would any of you like to pursue this matter?”
The silence that greeted me was deafening.
Realizing that he had lost this round, Horace waved his hand in a dismissive gesture and said impatiently, “Forget it. I’m not going to waste time on useless chitchat. Rich people like you always think that you’re better than everyone else, but I believe everyone is equal before the law. You better start praying that your walls don’t crumble under our investigation. All I need is a little piece of evidence to send you to prison for the rest of your life!”
With that, he roared, “Raid this place!”
A horde of officers swarmed the wine cellar at his orders.
There was no way I could stop their advance. Oh well. At worst, I’ll drop by the police station with Summer. Our innocence will prevail. The police doesn’t have hard evidence on Summer’s direct involvement in smuggling luxury wines. They can only detain her in the station for two days at max.
I vowed to myself that I would do everything in my power to prevent Summer from shouldering the blame in Quince’s plan.
I owed it to Macy to support Summer as best as I could. My failure to be there for Macy in the past hung heavy over my mind.
At the door to the cellar, I patted Summer’s hand comfortingly, silently telling her to stay calm. No matter what happened, I would be there with her every step of the way.
“Open it.” Unsurprisingly, Horace had pushed his way to the front of the crowd.
The staff holding the key to the cellar glanced at Summer and me. Upon our nods, he inserted the key into the keyhole.
The minute he turned the key, we heard an ear-splitting crash from within the cellar. It sounded like glass shattering.
The door between us and the cellar could not diminish the impact of the crash.
The police officers whipped out the guns from their holsters almost simultaneously, training their barrels on the cellar door in preparation for combat. Horace pulled our staff aside and exchanged glances with his officers before kicking the door open.
Slam! The door slammed heavily into the wall, revealing a cellar that reeked of alcohol.
The cellar was flooded with wine, threatening to flow over the doorstep at any moment. Meanwhile, crates that used to hold the wine bottles lay scattered around the room in disarray. Glass shards glinted faintly from beneath the inches of wine submerging the floor.
Anthony stood in the middle of it all, his trousers half-soaked in wine. His blazer was missing, leaving him in a white shirt and a loosened tie hanging crookedly around his neck. I thought I spied red wine stains on him.
He only whirled around to face the door upon hearing the commotion of the police officers. As he did so, he revealed a half-empty bottle of whiskey in his hands. Anthony swigged a gulp of liquor nonchalantly in front of his audience.
He then threw the bottle at the wall, just as Horace roared, “Stop!” to no avail. Alas, time did not freeze simply at his orders, and the whiskey bottle shattered loudly, its carcass joining the rest of the broken bottles on the floor as it left behind a large alcohol stain on the wall.
Horace had gone green around the gills, and I could see him clenching his jaw in silent fury.
Anthony, however, was the perfect picture of innocence as he wiped his mouth and drawled, “What’s wrong? Why did we trouble so many police officers to visit our cellar today?”
I did not know whether to laugh or cry at his pretentious behavior.
Hurriedly, I swallowed my laughter and offered, “Someone reported us for alleged smuggling, and they even got themselves a warrant to inspect our cellar.”
“I see,” Anthony replied lightly. “How unfortunate. There’s been a slight mishap, and all the wine is gone.”
With that, he paused and turned his attention to Horace. Pointing at the mess on the floor, Anthony added, “Help yourselves if you don’t mind.”
With the wine bottles destroyed and their contents spilled across the floor, any evidence of the alleged smuggling activities was gone. Entering the flooded cellar at this point was a lost cause and frankly disgusting.
Horace glared at Anthony sullenly before reholstering his gun. He turned around to leave.
He had barely taken two steps before he whipped around suddenly and said cynically, “I must say, Mr. Featherstone and Mrs. Featherstone, the two of you make such a lovely pair. Your teamwork is admirable, and I’d be hard-pressed to find another pair who were more in sync with one another!”
He did not fool me with his thinly veiled attempt at accusing us of being criminal accomplices.
How good can he be if he’s so intent on painting our family as villains over some baseless accusations?
I played dumb and replied sweetly, “What a lovely compliment. I’m sure the two of us will enjoy a long life together over your blessings!”
“Hmph!” Horace scoffed and said, “Let’s see if you’ll still be smiling like this during our next encounter!”
He left in a huff with the other officers in tow.
Horace’s behavior made it seem like we were his mortal enemies, and I could not help but wonder if everyone else harbored this feeling of prejudice toward all businessmen. He was so ready to pin the blame on us even before obtaining any evidence, almost as if he’s confident that none of our profits come from legal means.
Anthony waited for the officers to leave the vicinity of the cellar before coming out. The sound of rhythmic crunching greeted our ears as he walked over the glass shards littering the floor.
The wine cellar had no heating, and the chill sent me scrunching my neck into my collar. Hastily, I added, “You’re going to fall sick if you stay in those wet clothes. You should clean up in the restroom.”
“I’ll be fine,” Anthony replied. He looked at Summer grimly and added, “Get someone to move the rest of the wine away. Keep it in a discreet location; we might have some use for it in the future.”
Summer and I turned to look at the half-open crates in the cellar, paling in unison.
It turned out that Anthony had not destroyed all of the wines. It was all an act, and most of the smuggled wines were lying intact in their original crates. Had the police officers been more determined to venture into the cellar for a better look, they would have the evidence they needed to make a case.
Anthony’s risky gamble thankfully paid off.
Worried that the officers could return at any minute, I urged Summer, “Quick, follow your dad’s instructions.”
Summer nodded somberly and summoned the staff who had unlocked the cellar door earlier. She ordered, “Get all the staff in here right now, except the security guards at the door or the cleaners in the hall. Be discreet; we don’t want to alert any of the reporters outside.”
“Right away, Miss.” The staff immediately set out to carry out her orders.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.
Leave a Reply