Chapter 986 Blake is Back
How many galas would require men and women to waltz together? She couldn't dance—would she have to sit there watching her escort invite another woman to dance right in front of her?
If she couldn't dance or play piano, what good was she? In high society circles, she'd be nothing but dead weight.
Was God really going to make her lose everything she'd learned from the Medici family?
Henry held her gently, letting her break down completely in his arms.
"Why is this happening to me?" Lola sobbed hysterically. "Why?"
She wept bitterly, consumed by grief. "Why does Abella get to return to that family looking so beautiful and triumphant after all her suffering? She still has all her talents—why am I left with nothing but these complications after everything I've been through?"
Why had God taken away her most precious assets—her beauty and her status? Why couldn't she even walk properly or hold a fork without having to relearn everything?
Why?
She felt trapped in hell, drowning in agony.
All she'd done was envy Abella and cause her some trouble—did God really need to punish her this severely?
By comparison, whatever hardships Abella had endured weren't even real suffering. At least the Wilson family had taken care of her, and while they weren't wealthy, they lived comfortably enough and had given her opportunities to develop her skills.
But her? Even in her misery, God was stripping away the most basic human dignity.
"Why is this happening to me?" Lola cried heartbrokenly.
She'd already lost everything, and instead of showing mercy, God was grinding her further into the dirt. The unfairness was overwhelming.
"My knees will scar too—how will I ever wear short skirts or shorts in summer again?" Lola dissolved into fresh tears.
Meanwhile, Blake walked through the front door and immediately noticed the family portrait hanging on the wall. "Perfect placement for that photo—you see it the moment you walk in."
The living room buzzed with activity as several people were still taking photos with Abella. Seeing the lively scene and spotting Abella among them, Blake's smile grew even brighter.
"Abella, I'm home!" Blake waved the bags in his hands. "Look what I brought you!"
"Seriously? You're bringing Abella barbecue this late at night?" Steven frowned slightly.
"Everything's fresh off the grill. I had the driver rush the whole way here so Abella could have it while it's still hot." Blake set several bags on the table as servants immediately began unpacking dozens of containers, arranging the grilled items across the surface.
Ethan's brow furrowed as well. "Tomorrow's Christmas, and Abella's homecoming gala is the day after. What if she breaks out from eating this?"
"Abella's skin doesn't break out, and even if it did, she'd still be the most beautiful sister in the world—no contest!" Blake pinched Abella's soft cheek affectionately. "Besides, Abella's a doctor. She has plenty of ways to prevent breakouts, right?"
Abella smiled up at Blake warmly.
"But what if she doesn't have a solution?" Winston couldn't help but challenge.
"The skincare products Abella gave me have made my skin better and better. Even with long hours of makeup, I don't break out. If I do get a pimple or two from staying up late and eating barbecue, I just use the ointment Abella made—by morning, it's completely gone and doesn't interfere with makeup at all. So Abella definitely has solutions, right?" Blake picked up a skewer and held it out to Abella first. "Here, try this while it's hot."
When Abella reached for it herself, Blake quickly said, "It's greasy—don't get your hands dirty. I'll hold it for you."
"I can manage." Abella wasn't comfortable being fed like this.
Blake grabbed several napkins and wrapped them around the wooden stick in multiple layers before handing it over.
Hearing that Abella had given Blake such miraculous skincare products and ointments, the others perked up with interest.
"I need one for my wife—she's terrified of breakouts," Steven suddenly interjected.
"Get one for Camila too."
"Luna needs one as well."
"Are you all ganging up on me for being single?" Dennis shamelessly jumped in. "I want one for Saskia too!"
"She already has some," Abella said casually while eating her skewer.
"Then I want one for myself!" Dennis persisted shamelessly—he couldn't be the only one left out.
"Ms. Medici, we'd love some too," several servants chimed in hopefully, their eyes bright with anticipation.
Abella had given them skincare products and ointments before, but they'd used everything up and couldn't find anything nearly as effective in stores.
"Ms. Medici, you don't know how precious that acne treatment you gave me was. Toward the end, I was so reluctant to use it that I'd squeeze out just tiny amounts each time until it was completely gone!"
"Ms. Medici, why don't you start an acne treatment brand? Then we could actually buy your products!"
"Yes, exactly! We'd feel terrible always using your things for free."
"Sometimes we share snacks or eat spicy food and break out—probably because of our skin types. But after using your acne ointment, we don't get breakouts as often as before. When we do, it's not nearly as bad, but we just can't control our cravings and occasionally still get a pimple or two."
Abella smiled. "I'll go upstairs and get some for everyone—consider it an early Christmas present."
"Thank you, Ms. Medici!" All the servants beamed with joy. This Christmas gift was worth more than money—it was something money couldn't buy.
The brothers looked at Abella expectantly.
"You'll all get some too."
Her words brought visible relief and smiles to their faces.
"I heard Grandpa, Grandma, and your maternal grandparents are here, plus Uncle Caleb and Aunt Bonnie? Go call them down to join us." Blake's suggestion sent several servants hurrying upstairs immediately.
"Oh, and you all get some too—eat up once you're finished with your tasks." Blake addressed the servants. "I was carrying too much earlier to bring yours in, but I had the security guards outside help. Everyone will get a share."
The servants lit up with excitement. "Thank you, Mr. Blake Medici!"
"You rascal, tomorrow's Christmas and you're just getting home now," Kimberly scolded as she descended the stairs. "Didn't I tell you to finish your work early? Working until this hour..."
"That's because the song Abella wrote for me made me even more popular—my schedule's booked solid for the next three years."
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