Chapter 138 Finnegan's Mother Came Looking
"Sybil, why are you coming from the emergency exit? You don't look well. Are you sick?" Ophelia called out to stop her.
Sybil appeared somewhat flustered and said, "No, no, nothing's wrong. Just had a stomach ache and was resting at the stairwell entrance, taking a break for a bit."
Ophelia could tell something was troubling Sybil, and she intended to ask what was wrong, but Sybil headed straight for the elevator.
Odd.
Ophelia glanced towards the corridor Sybil had just emerged from; there was still a faint scent of gasoline lingering in the air.
She didn't give it much thought and started to pack up her things to leave the office.
She had lost her job, and it seemed she had to start the job hunt again.
Ophelia had just left the company when someone honked at her. She looked up to see a black sedan parked by the curb. The window rolled down, and the person inside was Celia.
During her time at Abbott's Corporation, Ophelia had never seen Finnegan's parents and didn't know what they looked like.
However, she clearly felt the person in the car was looking for her.
Ophelia walked over and politely asked, "Hello, are you looking for me?"
"I am Finnegan's mother, Celia." Celia sat in the car, wearing sunglasses, and carried herself with a haughty demeanor, her lips painted a vibrant red, and her attitude was cold, immediately appearing difficult to get along with. "Get in the car; we need to have a talk."
It became immediately clear to Ophelia what this was about, the very situation she had been dreading had still found its way to her.
She and Finnegan had kept their relationship discreet and out of the public eye, but Mrs. Celia still managed to track her down.
After hesitating for a moment, Ophelia got into the car.
Half an hour later.
In a coffee shop.
Celia exuded a sense of aristocracy and sat with a cold expression, causing Ophelia to feel the pressure.
A waiter approached, "Hello, what can I get for you two?"
Ophelia dare not order on her own, somewhat nervous, she glanced at Celia.
Celia casually ordered a coffee without asking Ophelia what she wanted.
The waiter turned to Ophelia, "And for you, miss, what would you like?"
"A latte, please. Thank you," Ophelia responded.
"Sure thing, please wait a moment," the waiter replied before leaving.
Once the waiter was gone, Celia scrutinized Ophelia with a sharp gaze. "How long have you been with my son?"
As soon as Celia spoke up, there was an unmistakable air of a drama where the wealthy matriarch looks down on her son's girlfriend, and Ophelia knew all too well what was likely to come next.
In TV shows, this is the cliché plot—wealthy families attempting to break up young lovers, often using money to drive a wedge.
Ophelia answered truthfully, "It's been almost a month."
Her relationship with Finnegan was still shy of a month.
Celia scoffed coldly, "Ophelia, you really have some nerve, being able to snag my son like that. You must be quite something. Girls your age, with their good looks and youthful vanity, are the most susceptible to dreaming of marrying into wealth. It's a common fantasy, fueled by too many teen dramas. Let me make it clear to you: my family, the Abbotts, will never welcome someone like you. My son is just toying with you; I hope you understand that."
Even with her mental preparations, when Celia insulted her, Ophelia couldn't help but feel humiliated.
Momentarily at a loss for words, she knew that as long as she was with Finnegan, people would assume certain things.
Their worlds were just too different. If she claimed she wasn't after his wealth, who would believe her?
Ophelia clenched her hand discreetly, took a deep breath inwardly, and met Celia's gaze, saying, "Ms. Celia, I am aware that my status does not match that of your son. Rest assured, I won't entertain any dreams that shouldn't be dreamt."
From the beginning, when she had agreed to be with Finnegan, she was resolved not to expect it to last forever, only to cherish the moments they had.
Celia's laughter was cold, "Save your pretty words. I bet you'll be clinging to my son and refusing to leave at the first chance. I've seen too many girls like you, and this isn’t the first time I've had to deal with someone like you on behalf of my son. Just name your price—how much to leave my son alone? Consider it payment for a toy my son got to play with."
This remark was even more insulting, and it was enough to stir a flash of anger in Ophelia, even with her usually calm disposition. What made her emotions surge was the phrase "not the first time." Had Finnegan been with other women before?
In a different setting, Ophelia could've laughed it off and quoted an absurd sum, like billions, mimicking those brazen heroines in stories who walk away with a fortune.
However, in real life, anyone with sense wouldn't take the money. To name a price would be to invite accusations of extortion and find oneself behind bars.
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