THE HUSBAND THEY BULLIED, THE KING THEY FEARED

CHAPTER 7: DING!

DING!

Margaret sighed as she sank into the plush chair, swirling the glass of margarita in her hands. The afternoon sun streamed into the expensive suite through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Velvet curtains lined the walls, crystal ornaments glittered in the sunlight, and the air was faint with the scent of imported roses–but it wasn't just the elegance of the room she wanted them to see.

She had intentionally brought Anna and Theresa here, to the exclusive suite her daughter had rented at the Grand Monarch Hotel to flaunt Vanessa's accomplishments… and that of her new son-in-law too.

“Oh, my!” Anna breathed, nodding slowly. "The Grand Monarch. I never imagined I’d set foot in a place like this.”

Maragaret chuckled and Anna tried her best to look thrilled–but the slight twitch in her eyes betrayed the jealousy seething within her. Everything good just happened to come her way. And she always flaunted it in their faces.

Pathetic.

Theresa adjusted herself on her seat, her lips twitching with a forced smile “Yes, well… it’s quite… something,” she said, her eyes darting around the room. Everything looked so… clean–a clear contrast to the worn out furniture that sat in her home.

She swallowed, maintaining her impressed facade as Margaret opened her mouth to speak.

“Oh, Vanessa insisted on this suite,” Margaret said, waving her manicured hand. Her tone was modest, but the twinkle in her eyes said otherwise. "I kept telling her it was far too grand, but she simply won’t listen. But she is still thoughtful, don’t you think?”

Theresa's fist clenched tightly on her lap. Maragaret definitely didn't want an answer to that question.

“My son… he’s… well, he’s still figuring out how to pay rent at his age,” Anna murmured bitterly, before quickly recomposing herself. “You’re fortunate to have a daughter who can give this to you."

Maragaret shrugged casually as she swirled her teacup. "Oh, don't worry about your son. We all have our roles to play. Some children make their own way, and others…” she let out a dramatic sigh before glancing in Anna's direction, "...they just have to rely on family. Still, happiness is what matters the most, right?”

Anna tilted her head to the side, the urge to toss the burning tea at Margaret’s smug face tearing at her chest. But she simply gave a curt nod, before picking up her cup with trembling hands and taking a small sip.

“So," Margaret continued, clasping her palms together. “I'm not sure if you all have heard the news but… Vanessa has finally finalized her divorce from Damien.”

“Oh, great."

“That's nice."

Theresa and Anna tried to sound impressed by the news but the walls they had built behind their true emotions had begun to crack. Still, Margaret lifted her chin in the air, pretending to bask in their attention.

Anna lips curled behind her cup. Her obliviousness merely amused her.

“I presume someone else has taken his rotten place in her life," Theresa muttered, her brows arched. "I hope this one's as good at baking as he was.”

Margaret leaned back, shaking her head. "Oh, Sebastian Stan doesn't," she replied, her smile widening. “But he’s got a black card that could buy a restaurant–that's close enough."

Anna choked on her tea and Theresa remained speechless. The two friends stared at Margaret, trying their best to wrap their heads around what she had just said.

Sebastian Stan was taking Damien's place?

“He proposed yesterday,” Margaret added, blowing an imaginary dust off her nails.

A sharp crash grabbed Margaret's attention and she turned to Anna. She had gripped her teacup too tightly that it had shattered in her hands. A tiny shard had cut through her palm and blood dripped onto the linen tablecloths.

“Oh, Anna," Margaret muttered, her eyes widening as she picked up a napkin and handed it to her. "Are you–"

“Oh, I'm fine," Anna answered quickly with a forced chuckle. She ignored Margaret's gesture and grabbed the napkin from Theresa's plate instead. “And congratulations on… Vanessa's engagement.”

Margaret looked concerned for a second, but it quickly faded away as she began digging into her purse. Anna could only watch with disgust as she slowly wiped her palm. Theresa, on the other hand, was still speechless, shaken and enraged from Margaret's revelation.

“Oh, Sebastian didn't just propose to her yesterday," Margaret said slowly as she pulled out a sleek black card from her purse, “he also got her this."

"A hotel keycard?” Theresa muttered after finally finding her voice. "Why would Sebastian give you that? Even Anna's son could afford it."

Anna glared at Theresa before turning back to Margaret. Her words might have been harsh, but they weren't untrue.

“Are you sure it was the same Sebastian that proposed to Vanessa that gave you this?” She asked, leaning forward and staring at the card. “It looks like the keycard to just another suite–”

Margaret cut her off with a loud laugh. “Oh, this isn't a hotel keycard.” She dropped it onto the table with a clink. “It’s a property access card. Sebastian bought it for Vanessa as their new marital home.”

Theresa frowned. “Their... home?”

“Not just a home, darling. A penthouse." She glanced up at the chandelier. "Right above this very hotel. The Grand Monarch’s crown jewel.”

For a moment, the table was silent. Neither Anna nor Theresa made a sound. Margaret had expected remarks and applause, and the quiet she got threw her off.

“We'll," she murmured arrogantly. "A ‘congratulations’ would be nice.”

Anna’s forced cheer couldn’t hide the sharp spike of irritation. “Oh… congratulations, Margaret,” she said, fingers tightening in her lap.

“Another win yet again for… Vanessa,” Theresa added as she bit the inside of her cheek.

Margaret's frown vanished instantly, replaced with a calm smile. Slowly rose to her feet

Margaret as she patted her hair into place. “Well, I suppose excellence does run in the family. Shall we go take a look?”

Anna and Theresa glanced at each other for a second before nodding stiffly. Hesitantly, they rose, watching as Margaret strode across the room. Even though they were jealous and enraged at her ‘fortune’, curiosity pushed them forward and they followed closely behind her.

Reaching the elevator, Margaret pressed the button and it opened with a quiet ding. “After you,” she said, mock generosity in her voice as she stepped aside for them.

Anna rolled her eyes and Theresa tsked under her breath. That was all she knew anyways–flaunting what was never hers. Yet, it ached that they weren't the one with a penthouse keycard clutched between their fingers.

Margaret stepped inside behind them and tapped on the penthouse level after the door had closed. Her chest puffed with pride, the three friends watched as each button glowed and chimed with every floor they passed.

Level 10.

Ding.

Level 25.

Ding.

Level 40.

Ding.

Level 60.

Ding.

PENTHOUSE LEVEL

The elevator slowed to a stop, and Margaret couldn't help but smile. But as the door gently opened up to the private foyer, the smile vanished.