Chapter 553 If I Won't Speak for My Wife, Who Will?
Rather than scolding Mario, Cheryl was putting on a show for the entire Valdemar family at Hayden's grave. She was making it clear that Yvette was the granddaughter-in-law both she and Hayden had chosen—no one could mistreat her.
Everyone exchanged bewildered glances, stunned that Cheryl would defend Yvette so fiercely. Mario felt humiliated being reprimanded by his mother in front of the entire Valdemar clan. He stepped forward, his jaw set with defiance.
"Mother, you're wrong about this," Mario's voice carried a sharp edge. "When Father passed, he'd barely met Yvette. He never even knew her father, who was—"
Thunder cracked overhead, cutting him off mid-sentence. The brooding sky finally surrendered to the weight of dark clouds, and fat raindrops began pelting down. Everyone froze in shock, Mario's face draining of color. Was Hayden expressing his displeasure from beyond the grave?
The drivers, servants, and bodyguards scrambled in panic. The weather forecast hadn't predicted rain, and all the umbrellas were back at the cars. Since vehicles weren't allowed in the cemetery, that meant a long trek to retrieve them.
"We'll get the umbrellas," one of the staff called out. "Everyone find shelter!"
But the vast cemetery offered precious little cover. Yvette glanced around helplessly, then unwound her scarf and draped it over Cheryl's head. "Please don't catch cold."
Cheryl immediately tried to return it. "You're in delicate health—you can't get soaked!"
Just then, a large black umbrella materialized above them, shielding them from the downpour. A man's silhouette emerged through the curtain of rain. Yvette turned to find Albert's impassive eyes meeting hers.
"How did you get here?" she asked, startled.
Albert arched an eyebrow, his lips curving in an uncharacteristically casual smile. "Didn't you ask me to come?"
Yvette fell silent, but Cheryl beamed with delight. "Perfect timing! Hayden must be smiling down on us, seeing you here."
As if on cue, the heavy downpour softened to a gentle drizzle, then gradually stopped altogether. Cheryl's joy was palpable, while Mario's rain-soaked face grew even more thunderous.
Albert calmly folded the umbrella and accepted a towel from Vincent, wrapping it around Yvette's shoulders. "Dry off before you catch cold."
Yvette glanced at Cheryl, who was watching them with warm satisfaction, seemingly oblivious to the supernatural timing of the storm.
The servants returned with more towels, and once Cheryl was properly dried off, Yvette carefully patted herself down. In her current condition, she couldn't afford to fall ill—especially not with the risk of passing anything to the children.
Albert handed the umbrella to Vincent and approached Hayden's grave for a moment of silent respect.
Yvette's gaze lingered on his broad shoulders beneath the black suit jacket. He'd refused so curtly last night, yet he'd clearly been planning to come all along.
The meticulous preparation—the formal attire, the umbrella—gave him away. That was Albert through and through: seemingly cold and unyielding, but with a heart of gold beneath the surface.
When Albert turned back, their eyes met unexpectedly. Yvette felt a flush of embarrassment and quickly looked away, pretending to focus on drying her clothes.
Albert slipped his arm around Yvette's waist and faced Cheryl. "Grandmother, what's the meaning of tricking my wife into coming here behind my back?"
Cheryl bristled. "Tricking? I asked her nicely! Unlike you, Yvette understands the importance of showing up when it matters. She's unwell and still came to represent you—aren't you ashamed of yourself?"
Albert had intended to confront Cheryl, but found himself on the defensive instead. His expression darkened slightly. "You don't understand me at all."
No matter how much he clashed with the Valdemar family—the arguments, the feuds, even outright hostility—his connection to Hayden had never wavered. It was the second reason he'd returned to the family, after Sarah. Hayden had been the kindest person in his world.
"Fine, I don't understand you," Cheryl conceded with a knowing smile. "As long as you're here, that's all that matters to me."
"Mother. Albert." Two voices called out in unison as James and Lisa approached. They acknowledged Cheryl and Albert while pointedly ignoring Yvette.
Albert's eyes darkened dangerously. Yvette looked up to find James's sharp gaze boring into her face with undisguised scrutiny.
"Father. Lisa," Yvette nodded politely.
James treated her like empty air, turning his attention back to Albert. "What's this? Playing the elder in front of your grandfather's grave? Too good to greet your father and stepmother now?"
Albert's lip curled with disdain as he tightened his hold on Yvette and turned to leave. Yvette shot him a worried glance but followed his lead.
"Albert! Yvette! Don't go yet—we're having dinner afterward," Cheryl called after them.
"We'll pass," Albert replied without looking back. "We're not starving."
Cheryl hurried after them, grabbing both their arms. "Fine, you can leave, but don't drag Yvette away. I have a gift for her."
Albert paused. "You can give it to her anytime."
James had seen enough. "Mother, let them go," he said with cutting sarcasm. "No point keeping people who don't want to stay. Besides, why subject everyone to someone with such appalling manners?"
Albert's piercing gaze locked onto James, his voice dripping with mockery. "When polite people greet you, you ignore them. But you demand courtesy from someone you consider rude?"
James's face flushed. "You're defending her! Do you even know who her father is? What he did? And you still defend her?"
"Absolutely, I'm defending her," Albert's laugh was cold and sharp. "Who else should I defend if not my wife? And if her father really did what you claim, shouldn't you be thanking her? After all, he rid you of someone you despised."
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