CHAPTER 862: CHAPTER 861

Rosemary tilted her chin up at Horace with a look that said, "Relax, I’ve got this."

To the casual observer, she seemed to be signaling Horace not to rile up Martha. But Horace, who had spent enough time with Rosemary, instantly understood the meaning behind her gaze. He got the message loud and clear.

Chuckling under his breath, he threw a defiant glare at the female killer, his posture slouched and rebellious, though noticeably less volatile than before.

"The little mutt sure knows how to obey." Martha sneered as she flicked Rosemary’s bun, pacing back and forth. "What to do, what to do? I don’t catch you every day, and now I find myself almost reluctant to see you dead."

Rosemary raised her clear eyes, her tone as calm as a gentle breeze, "I’m bound to die at your hands sooner or later, so why not let me die with some clarity? Is it because I’ve returned to this house, threatening your daughter’s status, that you think I should die?"

Suddenly, Martha’s eyes flashed with a fierce glint, scrutinizing Rosemary.

"Are you recording this? Or is there a hidden camera on you? I’ve been feeling something’s off since the start. With your defiant spirit, you wouldn’t surrender so easily, and you’ve been fishing for my

words. Search for her! And not just her! Search that loyal pup of hers thoroughly!"

With a cold snort, Rosemary’s lips curled into a mocking smile, "So, I’m that formidable in your eyes,huh?"

"Shut it!" Martha snapped, flustered and infuriated.

Two of Martha’s guys took turns patting Rosemary down. They tugged at her bun, finding nothing but lush hair, and the hair tie was just an ordinary one, adorned with a tiny diamond tiara.

Her clothes were casual, pockets in her hoodie, and trousers were all checked—no suspicious items.

Horace, too, was searched from head to toe repeatedly, and still, nothing out of the ordinary was found.

Even his shoes were taken off, and the insoles flipped, revealing nothing hidden.

Martha eyed Rosemary suspiciously and asked, "What kind of game are you playing?"

"I’m tied up, my phone’s been smashed, and my only ally is in your capture. Surrounded by over a dozen of your armed men, so what tricks could I possibly play?"

Hearing this, Martha’s triumphant smirk returned, her earlier doubts subsiding, replaced by a vindictive grin.

"If you had been this compliant from the get-go, you wouldn’t be in this mess." Martha’s venomous gaze fell upon Rosemary, "But you just had to act all high and mighty."

It was so irritating!

"When have I ever been high and mighty? Don’t those words suit your daughter more?" Rosemary couldn’t help but laugh, "For eighteen years, your daughter basked in luxury under my name. When I came back, I didn’t make a fuss. I let her stay and continue living in opulence. Shouldn’t you be grateful?"

"Grateful to you?" Martha scoffed as if she heard the most absurd thing, her laugh cold, "Had you been friendly and humble with Serena, I indeed would have spared you. But what did you do? You hurt her

time and again."

Rosemary was confused. When had she ever hurt Serena?

From the day she returned to the house, it was Serena who had been hurting her with backhanded comments like, "Sis, up so early? You don’t have to change your habits on our account—feel free to sleep in as you did at your place."

"You probably haven’t been to many fancy occasions, huh? It’s normal to get butterflies. I know Grandpa Phillip’s ways and temper very well. If you slip up or do something wrong, I’m right there to

smooth things over. Come on, take me with you."

Serena had a way with words, that much was certain.

Aside from her gossiping, her actions often left others speechless.

Take, for instance, the time when the family was enjoying afternoon tea together. Serena, thinking she had the inside track on her parents’ tastes after all these years, made a show of it right in front of her.

She’d pour Dad and Mom each a cup of tea. When it came grudgingly to serving Rosemary, noticing she was wearing a white dress, Serena even considered scalding her.

When Dad asked about which college she wanted to apply to, Serena jumped in with "I’m aiming for Summerfield College," flaunting her academic prowess in front of Rosemary.

In front of everyone, Serena clung to Dad, Mom, and her brothers, acting all cutesy. To the outside, it seemed like the family orbited solely around Serena. Eighteen years old and still acting like a child.

Then there was the time Serena knew Rosemary wanted to go out, so Serena raced her for the driver,offering in a mock-generous tone, "If you’re really in a hurry, I suppose you can take the car first."

When Romeo came looking for Rosemary and she hadn’t yet gotten out of bed, Serena dolled herself up,slipped into something revealing, and made a show of bending over and placing a hand on Romeo’s knee, the curves of her chest on full display as she confessed her feelings. After he turned her down,she had the gall to show up at his office, stalking him in secret.

She even had Holly pretend to trip and spill water down her front, making sure she was soaked right in front of Romeo, hoping to stir something in him.

When Romeo was at Rosemary’s beck and call, Serena had the nerve to tell him, "You can’t always spoil your girlfriend."

She even lied to her best friend, claiming that Rosemary had stolen her fiancé.

The list went on and on.

From the day Rosemary returned to the family, Serena had never intended to live in harmony with her.

Later, after being scolded by Hunter and Chasel, Serena seemed to change a bit, but it wasn’t long before she was led astray again by Martha.

Rosemary aired these grievances, her gaze landing on Martha, "And you, ever since I came back home,you’ve never shown me an ounce of respect."

In front of Rosemary’s parents, Martha would play the angel, but in private, she wouldn’t even acknowledge Rosemary’s presence.

She’d encourage Serena to get closer to Romeo whenever Rosemary wasn’t around.

It was Martha’s conspiratorial glances that emboldened Serena to act so recklessly.

"And then there was that night, Mom called me down for soup, and you, you spiked it with something nasty."

Martha bristled at the memory, "You ungrateful little wretch, I’d nearly forgotten. You had the nerve to make me eat it. I was sick all night!"

"That’s called getting a taste of your own medicine," Rosemary retorted, looking straight into Martha’s eyes, fearless. "Just like when you spilled oil all over the floor hoping I’d slip, and you and your daughter ended up taking the fall instead."

Martha, reminded of these humiliations, grew even angrier. "You’re really asking for it."

She snatched a leather whip from one of her men and lashed it across Rosemary’s back.

"Boss—" Horace struggled frantically, "Damn it, leave her alone! Come at me!"