Chapter 887:
If Paola continued like this, she wouldn’t just offend Gregg. She would drag their family’s name even lower.
“Enough! Look at yourself. Are you finished embarrassing us? Come with me!” Laurel hissed, lowering her voice as she yanked Paola closer.
“No! I won’t! Let go of me! Mylo, please, help me! They’re forcing me to marry Gregg!” Paola’s voice cracked with desperation.
Mylo looked back at her without a word, his silence colder than any outright rejection.
Paola turned abruptly and dropped to her knees before Rylie.
“Rylie! Please, I’m begging you! You’re my cousin. Give me another chance! I swear I’ll never go against you again. I’m sorry—I know I was wrong! Rylie, please!”
Her shoulders shook with sobs, her face streaked with mascara and tears.
But the scene moved no one. Not Mylo, whose affection had long since frozen. Not Rylie, who remembered every cruel thing Paola had done. Her resolve remained unshaken.
Paola’s fate had already been decided. Laurel and the others dragged her away, her knees scraping against the floor as she was pulled out of sight.
When the room finally fell silent, Mylo turned to Rylie.
“Who’s Gregg?”
Rylie sighed.
“A man in his sixties. He used to be a well-known landlord. He owns several properties around the city.”
Mylo frowned. Having spent years overseas, the name meant nothing to him.
“She’s always dreamed of marrying someone rich,” he said flatly. “Looks like she finally got what she wanted.”
Rylie let out a soft chuckle, though she held a different view. According to the documents Brad had shown her, Gregg had harbored strange appetites since his youth and lived extravagantly. He had tried to start businesses of his own but failed every time, surviving solely on rental income. By now, he was likely far less prosperous than he once had been, though his connections remained strong, and many still treated him with deference.
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Outside, Laurel shoved the sobbing Paola into the car and instructed the driver to head home.
“Lock her in her room,” she ordered.
Paola slammed her fists against the window, tears blurring her vision.
“Mother, please!” she cried.
Laurel’s expression remained unmoved.
“It’s obvious now how different you are from Rylie,” she said coldly. “You’re better off staying home and preparing for the wedding. No one else in Crolens would want you—except Gregg.”
Paola let out a piercing scream.
“No!”
When Laurel returned to the private dining room, she caught sight of Rylie through the half-open door, seated with the Kirk family. Their eyes met briefly before Laurel turned away without a word.
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