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Chapter_84
The tension was palpable in the air as Dorian, Vivienne, and Cordelia made their way to Hawthorn Mansion the next day. Dorian had already anticipated trouble with Beatrice, knowing well her manipulative nature. He had taken another sick day from work, fully aware that today would be one of reckoning.
After dropping Thaddeus off at school, the trio headed straight to the mansion, where the uneasy silence of the Hawthorn family awaited them. As they entered, Michael, ever the stoic figure, glanced at Dorian and asked with a certain coldness, “Got the stuff?”
Dorian nodded, his calm demeanor betraying nothing of the brewing storm. “Yeah. When’s the lawyer coming?”
Michael glanced at the clock. “About fifteen minutes,” he replied, his voice clipped.
Beatrice, seated at the head of the table, looked up at Dorian with a steely gaze before closing her eyes, seemingly uninterested in the arrival of her son and his family. No one offered to pour water for them, and the room’s atmosphere only grew heavier. The silence was thick, a stark contrast to the events that were about to unfold.
The lawyer, Mr. Dylan, arrived earlier than expected, and Dorian immediately rose to greet him. “Let’s get started,” he said, his voice steady.
Beatrice finally opened her eyes, her voice cutting through the tension. “First, show me the goods.”
Without hesitation, Dorian handed over the rewritten formula. Beatrice took it with a critical eye, flipping through the pages before her face twisted into a frown. “Just one formula? Are you so stingy?”
Dorian remained unfazed. “Evelyn only left me this one formula.”
“That won’t do!” Beatrice barked, her temper flaring. “You think one formula can settle the score for birthing and raising you? You must be daydreaming!”
Dorian met her gaze squarely, his tone hardening. “Mom, this formula is worth at least ten million. You’re my mother, but you didn’t raise me properly. You favored my two brothers. I don’t have anything to say about that. I didn’t come here today to discuss this. But Evelyn’s formulas—there’s only this one left. If you don’t want it, I’ll sell it to someone else. I’m not afraid of you bothering us anymore. If it comes down to it, we’ll move somewhere else after selling the formula.”
Beatrice’s face twisted with fury. “You bastard! You’re a Hawthorn and you want to sell the formula to outsiders? Don’t you have any regard for the Hawthorn family? For me as your mother?”
Dorian sneered, a flicker of contempt in his eyes. “I came here today to sever ties with you all. I’m not associated with the Hawthorn family anymore.”
Beatrice gasped, clutching her chest as if the words had physically struck her. Michael rushed to support her, turning to Dorian with cold fury. “Dorian, are you sure about this? Leaving the Hawthorn family for good, no regrets?”
“The best decision I ever made was leaving the Hawthorn family,” Dorian replied, his voice unwavering.
“Good for you!” Michael spat, his anger clear.
The room crackled with tension, but deep down, neither Beatrice nor Michael wanted Dorian to sever ties completely. They knew he still had more perfume formulas, and Beatrice, with her endless ambition, had no intention of letting him go so easily.
“You think you can just walk away from the Hawthorn family? Dream on!” Beatrice sneered, stuffing the formula into her pocket. “I’ve got the formula now, and I won’t give it back. Unless you bring out a new one, you won’t be able to cut ties with the Hawthorn family today.”
Her ambition knew no bounds. The formula was key to restoring the Hawthorn family’s prominence, not just in Havenwood but in Rivenwood as well. And if she could use it to oust the Ellington family, all the better. To Beatrice, her sons were nothing more than pawns in her game.
Dorian, knowing Beatrice’s calculating nature, couldn’t help but scoff. “Mom, I’m your flesh and blood. How could I not know what you’re thinking? I guessed you’d keep the formula. Do you really think I’m clueless?”
Beatrice narrowed her eyes, a sense of unease creeping in. “What do you mean?”
“This formula is incomplete,” Dorian said, his voice as cold as ice. “It’s missing two crucial ingredients. Without them, this formula is worthless.”
Vivienne had reminded him of the missing ingredients on their way to the mansion, and he had altered the formula accordingly. He had hoped, albeit naively, that Beatrice might honor her word. But it was clear now that trusting her was a mistake.
Beatrice’s face turned crimson with rage. “You ungrateful son!” she hissed, picking up a cup from the table and hurling it at Dorian. The cup shattered on the floor as Dorian deftly dodged.
“If you’re gonna play games, then we’re done here,” Dorian said, his tone final as he turned to Cordelia and Vivienne. “Let’s go.”
As they began to leave, Beatrice’s fury reached its peak. “Wait a minute!” she called, her voice high-pitched with desperation.
Dorian paused, turning slowly to face her, but said nothing.
Beatrice, realizing there was no turning back, reluctantly turned to the lawyer. “Mr. Dylan, can you whip up a contract? I want to cut ties with this ungrateful child.”
Mr. Dylan, who had known the purpose of today’s meeting, nodded and quickly got to work. Within minutes, the contract was ready, and he handed copies to both Beatrice and Dorian. “Check this out carefully. If there’s no issue, sign it, and we’ll get it notarized.”
Beatrice skimmed through the contract hastily. “I’m good,” she said, her voice dismissive.
Dorian, however, took his time. He read each word carefully, ensuring there was nothing amiss. After a thorough examination, he looked up at the lawyer and said, “I have a problem.”
Mr. Dylan raised an eyebrow. “What’s the problem?”
Dorian turned his gaze to Arabella, who had been silently standing next to Beatrice throughout the exchange. “Arabella, I know I adopted you, but you’ve been living with your grandmother all these years. Now that I’m cutting ties with her, I want to know—do you want to come back with me, or stay with your grandmother?”
He continued, his voice firm, “If you choose your grandmother, we should add that to the contract too.”
Arabella’s eyes darted between Dorian and Beatrice, the weight of her decision heavy in the air. The tension in the room had reached a boiling point, and now it was Arabella’s turn to make a choice that could change everything.
