Jack was the one who took the beating, but it was Donald who ended up in the hospital. He’d collapsed from the sheer rage of it all.
Penelope and Timothy slipped past the bodyguards and made their way to Donald's hospital room, hoping to finally get some answers about the past. But through the door, they saw Mrs. Bishop and Jack, who was kneeling by Donald’s bed.
“If you're still not satisfied, Mr. Bishop, then please, hit me again!”
Jack's face was a mess of bruises, but he didn't dare utter a word of complaint.
Donald glared at him, his jaw clenched so tight it looked like it might shatter.
“I warned you never to bring up what happened back then!”
Jack’s lips thinned. “I just couldn't stand hearing everyone praise Edith, and it just… slipped out. It’s the truth, isn’t it? If she hadn’t seduced me when I was drunk, I… I never would have betrayed you, Mr. Bishop. And then you wouldn't have retaliated and cost me half my family's fortune.”
“You still dare to speak!” Donald snarled.
“I don’t blame you, Mr. Bishop. I was weak and gave in to temptation. But Edith was the one most at fault. She climbed into my bed for money. She’s nothing but a promiscuous—”
“Shut up!”
Donald snatched an insulated mug from the bedside table and hurled it at Jack. Jack barely dodged it; if it had connected with his head, it would have split his skull open. The close call terrified him, and he immediately started slapping his own face.
“I was out of line, Mr. Bishop. I was wrong. I’m so sorry for what I did to you. I deserve to die!”
Mrs. Bishop sighed and gently helped Donald lie back down. “I don’t know the exact details of what happened, but it’s been so many years. You should let it go.”
Donald pushed her hand away and fixed his gaze on Jack again.
“Delete every last one of those disgusting posts you made about Edith. Now.”
Jack hesitated. “They’re already out there. Everyone’s seen them. Deleting them now won’t do any good.”
“Then you’ll tell them all you were lying! Tell them Edith… Edith was a good woman!”


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