Chapter 453: The Old Woman Planted Her Hands on Her Hips

"Stop making excuses!" The old woman planted her hands on her hips, her face twisted with disdain. "I'm your elder. Is it too much to ask you to make breakfast? If you refuse, I'll go straight to your mother-in-law!"

She suddenly clutched her chest, groaning dramatically—first complaining of heart pain, then claiming she was starving.

Relatives immediately swarmed around, all chiming in to scold Clara for being disrespectful.

Clara watched them coldly. She knew this game all too well—ganging up to bully someone.

"So, Aunt Marjorie wants a home-cooked breakfast?" Clara's lips curled slightly. "I'll have Daniel make it for you. Just wait a moment."

"Nonsense!" The old woman slammed the table. "Men earn the living, women tend the home—that's the rule passed down for generations!"

"Rule?" Clara chuckled. "I bought this villa. My income is triple Daniel's. By your logic, who should serve whom?"

"Lies!" The old woman's eyes nearly bulged out of her skull. "A woman like you could afford a villa?"

Her sister-in-law quickly tugged her sleeve, whispering, "I asked last night. She really did buy it outright..."

The old woman froze as if struck by lightning.

Clara turned and walked straight into the study without another glance.

Aunt Marjorie stood there, stunned. In all her years, she'd never met a woman who earned so much.

Her sister-in-law smirked. "If I had that kind of money, I wouldn't cook either. Why serve a man when you're rich? Would you?"

The old woman opened her mouth but couldn't utter a word.

Exactly. Who would play the housemaid when they had wealth?

* * *

Clara returned with breakfast to find the living room thick with tension. Before she could react, a loud crash echoed from the backyard.

Her heart sank.

That was Daniel's prized garden.

Sure enough, the priceless orchid lay shattered on the ground, its delicate petals scattered. The surrounding plants hadn't escaped the destruction either.

Daniel stood pale, his fingers trembling.

He'd spent countless sleepless nights tending that orchid, filling an entire notebook with care instructions.

Now it was ruined.

A few brats giggled nearby. "Uncle, isn't this flower pretty? We just picked it!"

Clara stole a glance at her father's ashen face, half-expecting him to collapse on the spot.

Years of teaching had honed Daniel's patience. He didn't explode—but he couldn't force a smile either.

Unable to bear it, Clara grabbed her laptop and bolted out the door.

Just one more day.

* * *

Clara could escape, but Daniel and Helen couldn't.

They were family, after all. Hospitality was expected.

Otherwise, Marjorie would tear the roof down.

That afternoon, Howard and Denise "happened" to drop by. Anyone could see they'd come for the drama.

Howard, at least, had some decency—he tried to leave after a quick greeting.

But Denise yanked him back, her eyes sharp.

She toured the villa with a bright smile, exchanging pleasantries with every relative.