Chapter 48

Ethan Caldwell's injured arm throbbed as he struggled to shield Vanessa Hart.

The situation worsened when Grace Caldwell openly sided with Eleanor, turning the confrontation into a three-way battle. The women's drama left Ethan feeling utterly helpless.

His stomach twisted as he watched Vanessa being pulled away by Eleanor's grip. Direct confrontation wasn't an option—not with his mother's temper flaring.

Instead, he turned to his sister, voice sharp with urgency. "Grace! Stop this madness. Get Mom off Vanessa now!"

Grace didn’t budge.

Her resentment toward Vanessa had festered ever since Ethan’s failed engagement turned her into the school’s latest gossip topic.

"Ethan, Mom’s right!" Grace snapped. "Vanessa isn’t good enough for you!"

Chaos erupted.

Relatives from the secondary branches hovered at the edges, eyes wide, unwilling to get involved. The air crackled with tension, the room dividing into invisible battle lines.

Ethan’s jaw clenched.

He had to act—fast.

The door swung open abruptly.

An elderly man in a wheelchair rolled into the room, his presence commanding immediate attention.

The sight of the chaos before him made his grip falter—the porcelain cup slipped from his fingers and shattered against the marble floor.

The sharp sound cut through the tension like a knife.

Everyone froze.

The four figures locked in their heated confrontation turned as one, their expressions shifting from fury to shock.

"Father."

"Grandfather."

"Uncle Alexander...?"

It was Harold Aniston, patriarch of the Whitmore family, with Ethan Caldwell trailing behind him—and Alexander Whitmore himself, his expression as unreadable as ever.

Alexander took in the scene with a single glance, his lips thinning slightly. If he was surprised, he didn’t show it.

Amid the sudden silence, Ethan felt warmth spreading across his forearm.

Fresh blood seeped through his bandages, staining the crisp white fabric.

Eleanor noticed but deliberately looked away, her jaw clenched. She was still seething over how Ethan had shielded Vanessa earlier.

Harold’s voice, deep and authoritative, filled the room.

"What in God’s name is happening here?"

Creating a spectacle in a hospital? You're practically handing out free entertainment!

Though the VIP ward on the top floor was designed for privacy, it wasn’t exclusive to the Whitmore family. The commotion had drawn a crowd—curious bystanders lingered outside, some even recording the chaos on their phones.

Harold Whitmore, now in his golden years, had long distanced himself from family drama, preferring the quiet pleasures of chess and afternoon tea.

But lately, murmurs of discord had reached his ears, impossible to ignore.

He turned to Alexander. "You’re the head of the family now. Handle this."

Harold had already stepped back, leaving Alexander in charge. His word was final, and no one dared defy it.

Simon swiftly brought over a chair for Alexander to sit.

The air thickened with tension.

Evelyn stood frozen, her fingers curling into fists at her sides. The last thing she wanted was to be the center of another Whitmore family scandal.

Vanessa, however, seemed to thrive on the attention, her lips twisting into a smirk. "Oh, please. As if anyone here cares about your opinion, Evelyn."

Alexander’s gaze darkened. "Enough."

The single word cut through the room like a blade.

Simon stepped forward, his voice firm. "Miss Hart, I suggest you reconsider your tone."

Vanessa scoffed, but the flicker of uncertainty in her eyes betrayed her bravado.

Outside, the whispers grew louder.

Evelyn exhaled sharply. This was spiraling out of control.

Then, a new voice cut through the tension.

"Really, Vanessa? Must you always turn everything into a circus?"

Claire strode in, her sharp heels clicking against the floor, her expression unimpressed.

Vanessa’s smirk faltered. "This doesn’t concern you."

Claire arched a brow. "Funny, because it looks like you’re making it everyone’s problem."

Alexander’s jaw tightened. "Simon, clear the hallway."

With a nod, Simon moved to disperse the onlookers.

Evelyn finally found her voice. "We should take this somewhere private."

Alexander’s eyes met hers, and for a brief moment, the storm in them softened.

Then, just as quickly, it returned.

"Agreed."

Vanessa opened her mouth to protest, but one look from Alexander silenced her.

The game had changed.

And Evelyn wasn’t sure if she was ready for what came next.

Alexander's icy stare cut through the tension in the room. "Someone explain. Now."

Sophia, never one to miss an opportunity to provoke, smirked. "Isn't it obvious? Eleanor’s lost her mind over her son’s choice of fiancée!"

Eleanor’s voice was sharp as shattered glass. "Fiancée? That woman is nothing to this family! I will never accept her!"

Sophia let out a mocking laugh. "Oh, please. Your son just publicly announced his engagement to Vanessa. Denying it now just makes you look desperate."

Eleanor’s glare burned into Vanessa, her fury barely contained.

She and Sophia had always been at odds. Every clash between them had ended with Sophia walking away unscathed.

But this time—being humiliated because of Vanessa—it was unbearable. It pushed Eleanor to the edge.

The Whitmore family’s dysfunction was no secret.

Harold, in his prime, had been a notorious charmer, leaving behind a trail of broken hearts and bitter rivalries.

Now, history seemed to be repeating itself.

Vanessa stood frozen, the weight of their hostility pressing down on her.

Alexander’s jaw tightened. "Enough." His voice was low, dangerous. "Vanessa stays. That’s final."

Eleanor’s face twisted in outrage. "You would choose her over your own family?"

Sophia crossed her arms, watching the scene unfold with amusement. "Oh, this is getting good."

Alexander didn’t flinch. "I choose who I want. And if you can’t accept that, then you are the one who doesn’t belong here."

The room fell silent.

Eleanor’s hands trembled.

Then—

The doors burst open.

Harold strode in, his presence commanding immediate attention.

His sharp eyes swept over the room before landing on Alexander. "What the hell is going on?"

Sophia grinned. "Just your usual family drama. Nothing new."

Harold’s expression darkened. "This ends now."

Vanessa held her breath.

Because she knew—

The real storm had only just begun.

Harold Whitmore had taken four different women as his wives.

His first marriage barely survived five years. After their eldest son Vincent was born, the relationship between Harold and his first wife crumbled beyond repair.

Within a year, he remarried—this time to a woman who bore him his second son, Patrick Whitmore.

But that marriage, too, was short-lived. It had been a transaction from the start, a calculated alliance. Once their mutual interests dissolved, so did their union. Their separation was cold, devoid of any lingering affection.

His third child, Theodore, was the unexpected result of a reckless night with a dancer from the wrong side of the tracks.

She never stepped foot in Whitmore Manor as a recognized wife, leaving Theodore to grow up as Harold’s only illegitimate son.

Alexander, the youngest, was the sole child from Harold’s final and only stable marriage.

Four sons. Four mothers. The fractures within the Whitmore dynasty were impossible to ignore.

Each branch of the family operated in shadows, wearing masks of civility while sharpening knives behind closed doors.

Eleanor, her fury barely contained, swore through gritted teeth, "As long as I draw breath—"

"That wedding will never happen!" Eleanor's voice cut through the tense silence like a knife.

Alexander turned to Ethan, his piercing gaze demanding an answer. "Your mother is completely against your engagement to Vanessa. Do you have anything to say about that?"

The air in the room grew heavier, thick with unspoken tension.

Ethan's jaw clenched, his fingers tightening around the edge of the polished mahogany table. His mother's disapproval wasn't unexpected, but hearing it voiced so bluntly in front of Alexander still stung.

Vanessa stood frozen near the window, her delicate fingers gripping the silk drapes. The golden afternoon light cast long shadows across her face, highlighting the flicker of uncertainty in her eyes.

Eleanor crossed her arms, her expression unyielding. "I won't stand by and watch my son make such a reckless decision."

Ethan finally spoke, his voice low but firm. "Mother, this isn't your choice to make."

Alexander's lips curled into a cold smile. "Interesting. So you're willing to defy your own family for her?"

Vanessa inhaled sharply, her chest tightening. She had known this moment would come—the moment where loyalty and love would be tested.

But she hadn't expected it to hurt this much.

Eleanor's gaze flickered between them, her disapproval radiating like an icy wind. "Mark my words, Ethan. If you go through with this, there will be consequences."

The threat hung in the air, heavy and suffocating.

Ethan's eyes darkened with defiance. "Then so be it."

Vanessa's breath caught.

Was he really choosing her over everything else?

Or was this just another game?

Alexander watched them both, his expression unreadable.

The battle lines had been drawn.

And the war was only beginning.