Chapter 357: Chapter 357: Treat Old Mrs. Yeats’s Words As Crap
Hearing the reporter’s question, Old Mrs. Yeats didn’t lose her temper. Instead, she feigned a sigh, as if everything she did was for the good of the younger generation.
"Alas, it’s a long story," she began. "As I said, if it weren’t for Estelle, I absolutely wouldn’t have made this matter public. After all, exposing this damages the reputation of the Yeats family.
"I know everyone must have a lot of questions. I can tell you with certainty that the will is real, and there is no issue with the notarization of the inheritance. Speaking of which, we can’t blame Estelle. After all, from her perspective, what was indeed a relic left to her by her father somehow became Evan’s work. It’s understandable that she acted impulsively in a moment of desperation."
Though she claimed it was understandable, her words implied something entirely different. She was painting Estelle Lockwood as an impulsive, reckless person who threw tantrums without investigating the truth—an uneducated brute the Yeats family looked down upon.
Old Mrs. Yeats sighed. "Since things have come to this, I will recount the entire course of events. Estelle, you should listen closely too. There are many things you are unaware of. As an elder, I don’t want to make things difficult for you, but I also cannot stand by and watch you spread wild rumors."
Estelle glanced at her phone with a faint, mocking smile. "Is that so? Please, go ahead."
Old Mrs. Yeats scoffed coldly. She refused to believe that Estelle would still be able to smile in a few minutes.
"Everyone knows that Melody and my son were childhood sweethearts. Naturally, she was also good friends with Eleanor," Old Mrs. Yeats continued.
Estelle began to grasp Old Mrs. Yeats’s angle and suppressed the rising anger in her heart. She told herself it didn’t matter; let the old woman talk. The more outrageous her claims were now, the harder it would be for her to explain herself when Nathaniel Sloan arrived with backup.
Old Mrs. Yeats sighed again. "Eleanor was also the eldest daughter of the Yeats family, the child of my late husband’s younger brother. Because his brother passed away early, my husband raised Eleanor as if she were his own flesh and blood.
"Later, Eleanor met Estelle’s father. Around the same time, Melody displayed an astonishing talent for art. Eleanor, well..." Old Mrs. Yeats trailed off, looking helpless and teary-eyed, playing the role of a loving grandmother to perfection. "On the surface, Eleanor encouraged Melody not to give up on her dreams, urging her to devote herself to art and continue painting.
"But in reality, she... she agreed to Estelle’s father’s demands and stole those paintings!"
The entire venue erupted in an uproar. Stole? Estelle’s expression turned ice-cold.
Old Mrs. Yeats continued to spout her hypocritical fabrications. "Melody didn’t realize it at first. When she finally found out, she discovered it was Eleanor’s doing. For the sake of their friendship, she chose to keep the secret and didn’t tell a soul.
"Later... later, Eleanor’s husband rose to fame, becoming a renowned painter by relying on those stolen pieces, and Melody could only grieve in silence."
Mrs. Yeats lowered her head, looking as though she were truly heartbroken.
Estelle looked at Mrs. Yeats and suddenly smiled. Was she faking it? Estelle always thought she was an excellent judge of character, yet she hadn’t seen through Mrs. Yeats’s disguise at first. She had genuinely believed this woman cared about her, that she felt sorry for Estelle and her mother. But looking at it now... Had Silas ever published these works back then? Of course not. As Eleanor’s friend, could Melody possibly not know that? She absolutely knew.
Old Mrs. Yeats put on an act and sighed. "So, Estelle, do you understand now? Why didn’t we say anything at the beginning? Why was Evan willing to bear the infamy rather than tell you the truth?
"It’s because he couldn’t say it!
"If he had spoken up, wouldn’t he have been telling the world that his aunt, all those years ago, stole her best friend’s paintings for the sake of a man?
"Eleanor has been gone for so many years, and your father has long since passed as well. As the saying goes, respect the dead. Evan and Melody stopped dwelling on this matter a long time ago.
"But... alas, at the end of the day, it’s all because you didn’t consult with us before you...
"We are a family!" Old Mrs. Yeats cried out, beating her chest in feigned agony. "Do you really distrust your own family this much?!
"Now that the truth has been exposed and your parents’ reputations are ruined, are you happy?
"Evan, Melody, you have been wronged!"
Evan shook his head, his eyes brimming with tears. "Grandma, I don’t feel wronged at all. I did it for my mother’s dream, and she did it for an old friend."
Melody looked at Estelle with an apologetic gaze, shaking her head slightly.
Estelle raised an eyebrow. With things having escalated to this point, any chance of reconciliation between her and the Yeats family—or rather, Old Mrs. Yeats—was completely dead. And as for Melody, the woman who had falsely claimed her father’s works as her own, could she still interact with Estelle like a normal relative? Definitely not.
So why was she smiling at her?
Having said her piece, Old Mrs. Yeats looked at Estelle with a smug glint in her eyes. "Estelle, after everything that’s been said, you should understand the truth now. Since that’s the case, it would be unjustifiable if you didn’t apologize."
Evan let out a sigh. "Grandma, we can’t blame Estelle. After all, those who do not know are innocent. Estelle, I hope you can understand the family’s good intentions. At the end of the day, all of this... was for your own good."
Mrs. Yeats shook her head helplessly, her eyes welling with tears. "Yes, Mom, there’s no need for an apology. Eleanor and I were good friends, and I’ve known Silas for years too. Aside from this matter... where they let me down, I don’t hold anything else against them.
"Let’s just drop it. It doesn’t matter if I suffer a little injustice."
"No!" Old Mrs. Yeats furrowed her brows and snapped. "How can we just drop it? If we let this go, everyone will think the Yeats family is easy to bully!"
Many people in the crowd had originally admired Evan’s paintings. Now that they believed the original creator was Mrs. Yeats, they naturally sided with her. Therefore, when Old Mrs. Yeats demanded that Estelle apologize, it was essentially a demand for an apology to the original artist. Wasn’t that perfectly reasonable?
Promptly, the onlookers chimed in to persuade her. "Mrs. Yeats, your broad-mindedness is one thing, but an apology is another."
"That’s right, Mrs. Yeats. You’ve been slandered in this matter, and hasn’t Mr. Yeats suffered the same?"
"Even if Miss Lockwood didn’t do it intentionally and was only trying to defend her parents, she must apologize for doing something wrong!"
"Mrs. Yeats, you may cherish your old friend, but your friend didn’t care about you at all! Otherwise, why would they write such things in the will and cause Miss Lockwood to misunderstand?"
Evan could barely suppress the smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Yes, exactly. Did Estelle really think that just because she had a will as evidence, everything would go her way?
Old Mrs. Yeats smiled as well. "Estelle, look at what everyone is saying. You are also at fault in this matter. Just apologize, alright? Don’t make things ugly for everyone. After all, we are family."
Those last few words carried a profound hidden meaning. It was as if she were saying that if Estelle refused to apologize, she would no longer be considered a part of the Yeats family, and her status as the eldest daughter of the family would not be recognized.
Everyone turned to look at Estelle.
However, one second passed.
One minute passed.
Two minutes passed.
Estelle remained seated in her chair, toying with her phone. She didn’t even bat an eyelid. It was as if everything Old Mrs. Yeats said was nothing but a load of absolute garbage.