Chapter 9: The Inconvenient Protector

The Harrington estate was at its breaking point in terms of tension. Every encounter felt like balancing on a tightrope over an enormous abyss. Marcel was waiting for the right opportunity to attack again, circling like a predator as usual.

I kept my head down, trying to make sense of the scandal that was still circling me. However, it didn't stop the staff members' sidelong stares, the whispering getting louder, or my phone ringing nonstop with more reporter questions.

I strolled into the sunroom one afternoon in an attempt to get away from the chaos and find some serenity. Rather, I discovered Marcel reclining on one of the couches, a smug grin on his face and a tumbler of amber drink in his hand.

He looked up and down at me and drawled, "Ah, Freda." "Thank you for coming along. Just now, our little...media sensation was on my mind."

I tensed up and balled my fists. "Marcel, what do you want?"

He idly swirled his drink. "Obviously, to comprehend. To understand how a person such as yourself could enter our household and create such joyful havoc."

With a stronger tone than I meant, I snapped out, "Perhaps I just have that effect on people."

His smile got bigger. "Yes, you most definitely do. But Freda, tell me, how long do you think you'll be around? Weak members of this family are eaten alive." "Additionally, you are essentially dangling like bait, my dear."

Before I could reply, Williams stepped in through the open door behind me. When he looked at Marcel, a glimmer of irritation appeared on his face.

"Marcel," remarked Williams abruptly, in a cold tone. "You have better things to do than to bug my wife, don't you?"

Marcel, obviously amused, lifted an eyebrow. "We're just chatting, dude. Nothing was harmed."

Williams moved between us with a commanding stance. "I'm cautioning you. Keep out of her way."

Unspoken anxiety began to permeate the gathering. For a brief period, Marcel's grin wavered before he stood up.

"Are we defending her now?" His tone was mocking as he spoke. "How honourable. We shall see how long that continues."

He walked out of the room with a sarcastic bow, leaving a deafening quiet behind him.

With an enigmatic expression, Williams turned to face me. "Are you alright?"

Even though my hands were still shaking, I nodded. "What did you do?"

He said plainly, "Because he was out of line." "Marcel enjoys making others feel insignificant. Keep him from winning."

I was taken aback by what he said, but more by the tone, which was sincere and almost kind.

"Thank you," I muttered.

He sighed after giving me a long look. "Freda, I'm not doing this to show gratitude. Whether we like it or not, we are all in this together, so that's why I am doing it."

There was a slight change between us in the days that followed. Williams appeared less defensive and more open to having discussions that didn't feel like interrogations. During breakfast, we even had a few giggles, which was a rare break from the normally tense environment.

However, the respite was brief.

The doorbell unexpectedly rang one evening as Williams and I were getting ready for a formal dinner with some of his business acquaintances. Shortly afterward, a staff member alerted us to the arrival of a reporter who claimed to have urgent information regarding the recent media crisis.

We decided to meet them in the sitting room because we were so curious. Rachel, the astute reporter, didn't waste any time in getting right to the point.

Her voice was low as she said, "I have a source." "A close relative of the Harringtons who has been providing the tabloids with details about Mrs. Harrington's past."

I felt sick to my stomach. "Who is it?"

Rachel looked at Williams and paused. "This is Marcel."

The room's air felt as though it had frozen. Williams was tense next to me, his hands balled into fists.

His tone was deadly calm as he questioned, "Are you sure?"

Rachel gave a nod. "I have witness accounts, recordings, and emails. From the beginning, he has been planning the slander campaign.

Williams's eyes blazed with anger, a subdued rage that chilled the room. "In exchange for this information, what do you want?"

Without wasting a beat, Rachel declared, "I want an exclusive." "I want the whole story—from your side—after you've dealt with Marcel."

Williams gave a stern nod. "You'll get it. Now go."

Williams turned to face me as soon as she was gone, his face displaying a mix of resolve and rage. "This is over now."

"How are you going to proceed?" My voice was tremulous as I asked.

Instead of responding, he strode with a purpose I had never seen before in the direction of the door.

The altercation took place in the family's private parlour, which is typically used for contentious disputes and power struggles. Marcel was already there, drinking away as like nothing were bothering him.

Although Williams appeared composed when he entered, there was a noticeable sense of anxiety in the room.

"Marcel, you've gone too far," Williams replied in a low, menacing voice.

Marcel's eyebrows went up. "I have no idea what you're discussing."

Williams angrily slammed a folder down the table and said, "Don't act stupid." "We recognise you. Everything points to you, including the emails and leaks."

As Marcel opened the folder and looked through its contents, his grin wavered. He appeared truly shaken for the first time.

Williams went on, taking a step closer, "This family has put up with your schemes for far too long." However, this? Attacking Freda? Are you attempting to destroy us? You shouldn't have crossed that line."

With a grim expression, Marcel stood up. "Williams, stop acting so arrogant. Do you believe that you are untouchable because of this ridiculous marriage? You share my level of complicity in this catastrophe.

Williams remained unflinching. "Perhaps. At least I know when to stop, though."

When Marcel sprang forward and swung his fist at Williams, the tension burst. Williams, however, was quicker, sidestepping the strike and snagging Marcel by the collar.

"Marcel, do you want to fight me?" Williams snarled. "All right. But don't involve Freda."

My heart was racing as I observed the sight from the doorway. A struggle for control that had been boiling beneath the surface for years, this was more than just a power conflict; it was a war between brothers.

But the sound of glass breaking filled the room before I could stop it. When I turned around, Margaret was standing in the doorway, her eyes giddy with rage and her face pallid.

She yelled, "Enough!" and her voice reverberated across the space. "Stop this nonsense right away, you two!"

The matriarch's dominant presence briefly eclipsed the brothers' resentment, causing them to freeze.

Margaret's voice trembled with rage as she added, "This family is falling apart." "And it will be all of us who suffer if you two don't get your act together, not just Freda."

There was a tense stillness after her words, which lingered in the atmosphere like a black fog.

Then my phone buzzed with a notification as if the cosmos wasn't already playing tricks on us. My blood ran cold as I looked at the screen.

It was a brand-new headline that made me shiver:

"The Scandal Deepens: Harrington Family Secrets Revealed."

I gazed at the screen as the words' impact became more apparent. It would be bigger than any of us could manage, whatever came next.