A Widow's Poison, A Wife's Rebellion novel Chapter 418

“And what about you?” Xenia shot back. “Did you get to see the Farley elders?”

The question hit a nerve, and Darleen’s mood soured even further. “The Farleys wouldn’t even let me in the door.”

Not only had they refused her entry, but they had sent a servant to dismiss her with a torrent of thinly veiled insults. The message was clear: they thought Darleen had failed to raise Xenia properly, and they certainly didn’t approve of her for their family.

It was as if they thought only they were worthy of the Yelchins in all of Marina City. As if she couldn’t find another, better match for Xenia. Did they really expect her to beg?

The more she thought about it, the more Darleen seethed at the Farley family’s arrogance.

Xenia sighed, the sound barely audible over the wind. “So, we both failed today, is that it?”

Darleen gritted her teeth. “The Farleys will live to regret this.”

…

The trip had been exhausting, mostly on foot. They had left early in the morning and didn't make it back until after noon.

As they walked through the door, the aroma of a hot meal filled the air. Starla was having lunch. For Darleen and Xenia, who were chilled to the bone from the biting wind, the smell was torturous.

Darleen marched toward the dining table, her voice a low growl. “We need to eat.”

Starla took a slow sip of soup before looking up, an eyebrow arched in amusement. “Of course. We’ll do it according to your rules, Mrs. Yelchin. I have everything ready for you.”

The rule of not tolerating freeloaders.

Darleen followed her gaze and saw two enormous baskets in the corner. At first, she couldn’t make out the contents, but a closer look revealed they were filled with heavy curtains and several rolled-up carpets.

“What are we supposed to do with those?” Darleen asked, her breathing growing ragged.

“You’ve always been obsessed with cleanliness, haven’t you?” Starla said coolly. “When the maids were here, you insisted they hand-wash these. Since we’re cutting back on expenses now, you can do it yourself.”

Xenia stared at the mountain of fabric and nearly fainted. This was ten times worse than scrubbing floors.

“These are huge!” she protested, her voice tight with anger. “You want us to hand-wash them? You’re just trying to torture us!”

“Not just hand-wash,” Starla added, her voice dropping to a near whisper. “See that little brush? I want every single inch scrubbed clean.”