Chapter 136: Derek Harlan Was Snoring Thunderously

Derek Harlan was snoring thunderously, dead to the world. He had spent the previous night gambling with his no-good friends and only stumbled home at dawn. To him, the day didn’t start until the sun went down.

A sharp smack jolted him as the old woman slapped his back. "Derek, wake up!"

He rolled over and yanked the blanket over his head. In his dream, Vanessa Ward’s soft, pale body was smiling at him, making him drool.

"Your uncle’s back!" the old woman hissed in his ear.

That pierced through Derek’s drowsiness like a needle. He had lost every penny last night and was desperate for cash. His uncle, who ran a small shop in town, had always been his fattest wallet.

"Did Uncle bring the dowry?" Derek bolted upright, eyes gleaming. He knew his parents were useless, but his uncle had always been generous.

The old woman’s face darkened. She had just been scolded by her son and was seething. Something was off about him this time—his words were sharp, no doubt poisoned by that useless wife of his who couldn’t even bear a son.

"Clean up this mess. Your uncle’s moving back in," she spat through gritted teeth. "The loan sharks wrecked his shop!"

"What?" Derek jerked upright.

She smacked him again, though this time it was barely a tap. "It’s all your fault! Those two thousand you borrowed last month? The interest ballooned. They came for him when he couldn’t pay. The doctors say he might never walk again!"

Derek’s face drained of color. He remembered now—the gambling debt in the neighboring village had spiraled into an impossible sum. If the loan sharks came for him next…

"Uncle didn’t pay it off for me?" His voice cracked.

"Pay it off? Ha!" The old woman stomped her foot. "Now they’re hounding him every day, and he’s bedridden!"

In the next room, Calvin Ward listened, his heart sinking. Elena had been right—this nephew was nothing but a leech.

"What do we do?" Derek panicked. "They’ll kill me!"

The old woman lowered her voice. "Your uncle’s had that shop for years. He must have savings. Wait on him hand and foot these next few days. Get on his good side, and the money will—"

Derek’s eyes lit up, then dimmed. "But this room was for my wedding!"

"Idiot!" She jabbed his forehead. "Once you get the money, you can live wherever you want!"

Grudgingly, Derek dragged himself out of bed and plastered on a smile as he headed next door. "Uncle, Auntie, let me help!"

Margaret Ward watched the act coldly, seeing right through them. She silently cleaned the wrecked bridal suite—cigarette butts, spit stains, moldy dishes. This was the "home" she had married into over twenty years ago.

Outside, the old woman’s exaggerated laughter rang out. Mary clenched the rag in her hand. If Calvin still refused to see the truth this time, she would take her daughters and leave this hellhole for good. Elena was right—daughters could carry on the family name too. Why should they be stepping stones for a gambler?