Chapter 53: Chapter 53 Overzealous Aunty.
In the various interior chambers, designs clung to different parts of the wall. The wedding preparation was in full swing, booming with numerous servants who kept everything under control.
The one overseeing it all was Diane, a middle-aged woman and Xyle’s aunt. She had arrived in the morning with her husband Joseph, an aged man, and since her arrival, she had taken over the planning as though she owned everything.
"You idiot, can’t you do something properly? That chair has to be shifted to give a proper view of the couple!" she fired at the poor maid arranging the seats.
The maid trembled at her sharp tone. By the look on the servants’ faces, it was clear none of them were happy with the malicious woman who had taken over the event as if it was her own. Yet, even as they frowned, none dared to talk.
"You see, morons, the bride must be in the spotlight. The way these chairs block the road, I don’t think my previous sister-in-law would get any recognition. So pack your things and leave—you’re fired!" Diane ranted.
"You can’t seem to do anything well. Removing useless people like you will only make the golden palace better—what nonsense!" she exclaimed, irritated at the sluggishness of the maid.
Hearing that the only way she fed her poor family had just been snatched away, the maid fell to her knees, crying and begging.
"Please ma’am, temper mercy! I will do better—just don’t chase me out," she wept, kneeling.
But as if power had gotten to her head, Diane only smiled cruelly, pushed the maid away, and moved on to the next area that needed attention.
It was the same process over and over—firing those she claimed did nothing, then their begging and crying—until someone finally interrupted.
"Welcome, Auntie. I can see you have made yourself comfortable."
A cold, brooding voice echoed through the chamber.
Diane’s heart leaped from its base. She turned, and it was indeed the one she expected to see—Xylander himself.
Even though it was his wedding day, no smile tugged at his lips. He only glanced at the decorations before fixing his gaze on Diane.
"Too comfortable in a house that isn’t yours, Auntie Diane," Xylander drawled, giving her a look that made her flinch.
"Oh, baby boy, you’ve finally grown! I’m so proud. Just two hours more and the wedding will kick off. How is the priest? How is your bride? Why didn’t you tell anyone—we’re your family, and you’re still our baby boy," Diane rambled. And then, in her carelessness, she made a dangerous mistake.
While speaking sheepishly, she reached up and rubbed her hands over Xylander’s hair. It was nearly impossible given his towering height, but she still managed. The moment her fingers landed on his hair, his countenance dropped completely into one of pure menace.
"How dare you, slut, touch my hair!" he barked. Diane stumbled back, startled once more. Since he had entered, he had done nothing but put her on edge.
"Slut? Me? I am your aunt! What did I do wrong for you to use such words at me? Just a small boy of yesterday—oh, is it because of the riches in this palace?" Diane retorted bitterly.
"And don’t forget," she continued, "that inheritance isn’t even yours. By our family rules, it should belong to Maxine. I don’t know what you did that made them give it to you at all."
Xylander’s eyes shifted to the servants, who were shaking as they worked. Their terror was plain in their movements. That wasn’t his concern—but what Diane had just uttered would not go unanswered.
"I can see my door has become too welcoming, even to undeserving common objects that need mending so badly. But that isn’t the issue." His tone was sharp and final.
"After the wedding today, never in your life step into my abode again. If you do, I will embarrass you, drag you and your family out, and even throw you into a trash can for disposal. Diane Johnson, your stay here is officially over." Xylander declared, then added one last thing to shatter her delusion.
"And my wedding isn’t to a bride—but to a groom. Fix that in your empty skull. Any uproar you cause against him will be your end." With that, Xylander deadpanned and walked out, still in his suit, ready for his wedding.
Meanwhile, Diane’s face turned red and white—a mixture of both colors. The servants around relished her suffering, mocking her silently.
"See who was talking! She probably doesn’t own anything. From their talks, you shall know them," a maid mopping the floor sneered.
Another, fixing a ribbon on the chandelier, whispered to her neighbor.
"I don’t think she has any property to her name. I heard her husband was a shoemaker before she married him. How pathetic." The maid chuckled, and soon gossip spread like wildfire.
A male chef, in charge of the cake, added his thoughts.
"Haven’t you all heard? The reason she married that good-for-nothing man was because of love. It’s always the poverty-stricken souls. Imagine claiming to be boss lady when you own nothing!" They all chimed in, their laughter malicious.
"When you’re nothing, you’re nothing. Look at someone claiming to be the real manager of the golden palace, when she doesn’t even own a common store," a plump designer spat venomously.
The whispers grew louder, more viral, until the entire palace was buzzing with talk of the good-for-nothing woman attempting to claw her way into riches.
Amidst the crowd, Diane burned with embarrassment at the growing stares aimed at her. But instead of retreating, she tried to wield her power.
"Get back to work, you cabbage minds!" she barked at one unsuspecting woman who had only tried to see the commotion.
Furious that Diane would insult her, the woman flared.
"Don’t you ever speak to her that way! I’ll give you a proper spanking—the same way I disciplined my children," a very aged woman with enormous grey hair scolded.
Diane stared at her in shock.
"Did that maid just talk back to me? In the owner’s house, where she works? Does she even know who I am?" Diane thought.
She tried to reassert herself.
"It’s over for you! Get out, you old hag!" Diane rained abuses.
But instead of backing off, the aged woman delivered a slanderous slap that tore across Diane’s cheek, making her dizzy. She stumbled and landed face-first in a hot bowl of sauce that had just been brought down from a wheel cart carrying cooked dishes to be served.
The steaming contents scalded her skin, and Diane let out a terrible scream, jumping up in terror from the burn. Yet no one came to her rescue.
The servants only stood, watching her as if she were performing in a theater drama.
Scandal was already at its peak, and the wedding hadn’t even started yet—what more when the groom’s true partner was finally revealed?