Revenge Of The Jilted Bride

Jilted Bride 59

Chapter 59

"Elia," Eric said gently, "your shoulders aren't that broad. Don't try to carry the weight of the world. There are too many people in the slums for you to help everyone."

Ophelia could help one or two people find jobs, but not all of them. Her mind raced through the grim scenarios she'd

witnessed sick people withering away because they couldn't afford medical care, newborns succumbing to the bitter cold, and angry young men whose only problem-solving tool was their fists.

The slums were home to hundreds. It was impossible for her to take care of everyone. She wasn't a savior. She couldn't help them all.

Felix fell silent for a moment, unable to meet Ophelia's gaze. He could only ask his lackeys to go door-to-door, returning the

money.

Ophelia left what cash she had with the old woman and the girl. As she left the slums, she had already pushed Harry's words to the back of her mind.

Anyway, Ophelia had no intention of letting the Hastings family off in this life.

Meanwhile, at the top floor of Hastings Group, Harry had just walked in with his secretary and appraiser when he saw Owen beaming at them.

Owen strode forward, clapping Harry on the shoulder. "Well done, Harry. You've done an excellent job this time."

The auction had barely ended when Owen received numerous congratulatory calls about securing the West End Soccer Field property. He couldn't help but feel a surge of pride. His eldest son had stepped up to the plate and hit a home run on his first solo project. It seemed he could entrust the company to Harry in the future.

However, noticing Harry's uneasy expression, Owen glanced at the secretary and appraiser. All three wore grim faces.

His hand slipped from Harry's shoulder as a sense of foreboding crept in. "What was the final bid?" Owen asked, the earlier celebratory phone calls now taking on a sinister tone. Something had clearly gone wrong.

Gone was the doting father. "Speak," Owen demanded, his voice sharp as steel.

Harry swallowed hard. "80 million dollars..."

doubted his

to Owen's head, his vision swimming as he struggled to stay upright.

"How the hell did you let this happen?" His fury was aimed squarely at his

raising the bid. They'd had

laced with resentment. "Mr. Owen, it was your son who got into a bidding war. He kept raising the bid

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Chapter 59

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on impulse, so they couldn't be blamed. If they had protested too loudly, everyone around them would have

his chest,

the auction someho kept outbidding me. That's why I..." He trailed off, unable to finish his

slap him right then and there, but he had to maintain some semblance of respect in front of his subordinates. If they'd been at

"O-Ophelia," Harry mumbled.

did you become as brainless as your brother? Huh? You should have just let her have it. It's not like she could afford it anyway. And even if she did

remaining dignity. He didn't dare open his mouth. He

price, neither of them tried to stop me." Harry tried to shift the blame,

scene unfolding left both the secretary and the appraiser speechless. They realized that if Hastings Group were to fall into Harry's hands in the future, bankruptcy wouldn't be far behind. They'd be better off finding new employment while they

up. "Mr. Harry, are you forgetting something? You said, and I quote, 'I'm the manager, so you have to listen

no longer fulfill my role as an appraiser

my resignation letter as well," the

slightly and left the office, not even giving Owen a chance

"They know they messed up. Too ashamed to

Owen snapped, grabbing a document off his desk and hurling it at Harry. He collapsed into his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose as he racked his brain for a solution. The phone on his desk kept buzzing, no doubt a flood of sarcastic well-wishers. For a man like Owen, who prided himself on his reputation, becoming the laughingstock of Dellanex was a bitter pill to swallow. The thought made his blood

land in the West End?' Owen sighed inwardly. 'Have he lost

out which company she was representing. We're willing

to beg her?"

and bargaining, "You choose - a seven-million-dollar loss or a