I Was His Wife, Then His Widow, Then No One's But My Own novel Chapter 130

Eleanor's tactics were far more sophisticated than the rest. With a single sentence, she framed the entire conflict as an emotional outburst triggered by grief, effortlessly sidestepping the vicious gang-up everyone had just participated in.

It offered Nora a convenient excuse of emotional distress while simultaneously granting the Fletcher family a dignified way to back down.

But this dignity was nothing more than a scrap of charity. Its sole purpose was to shut down the drama, not to offer Nora any real justice.

Sure enough, Eleanor immediately waved her hand, her tone dripping with magnanimous forgiveness. "Forget it. We won't hold you accountable this time."

The moment she said that, someone at the table couldn't sit still.

Lance Fletcher, Finnegan's cousin, was in his early thirties and already held a significant position within the family enterprise. He loved nothing more than making his presence known at family gatherings.

Seeing the matriarch attempting to sweep things under the rug, he immediately set down his wine glass and laughed. "You can't just let her off the hook, Eleanor. These family dinners are a core tradition of our household. If we don't hold Nora accountable, everyone else will start showing up late too, and it'll set a terrible precedent. What's the point of family rules then? Isn't that right?"

After throwing that out, he looked around the room, and several of the younger relatives eagerly nodded in agreement. Eleanor looked at him and asked unhurriedly, "Then how do you suggest we handle this?"

That was exactly what Lance had been waiting for. He flashed a smug, triumphant grin. "Isn't Nora supposed to be an amazing cook? We barely have enough food on the table anyway. Let Nora head to the kitchen and whip up a few dishes for us."

A few voices at the table murmured their agreement. In the Fletcher household, Lance's proposition wasn't about punishing tardiness at all; it was a public declaration of Nora's new standing.

It was a blatant reminder that she wasn't a guest in this house, but someone meant to serve them.

Nora listened to the entire exchange without moving a muscle. Unconsciously, her eyes drifted toward Finnegan.

Looking back at it now, she realized just how pathetically stupid she had been.

She didn't even know what she was still expecting from him. He was sitting right there, watching a mob tear her apart, without so much as a flinch.

Nora stood up. The chair scraped lightly against the floor as she pushed it back, instantly drawing every single eye in the room back to her.

Standing tall beside the table, her steady gaze swept across every face before finally locking onto Alastair and Eleanor. Her voice was terrifyingly calm.

"I admit I was wrong to be late today. But since this is a family dinner, it hardly seems appropriate for me to cook alone. If you ask me, everyone should head to the kitchen and prepare one dish each. That would be the ultimate display of family harmony."

She finished her sentence, pulled her lips into a sharp smile, and looked directly at the patriarch. "Isn't that right, Alastair?"