Chapter 8: Wicked Daughter-in-Law
Raymond stepped into his office with a mind clouded by stress. Without hesitation, he ordered his PA to transfer ten million naira into Frances' account. No questions, no second thoughts.
Meanwhile, back at the mansion, Frances sat at the dining table, slowly eating her meal. She couldn't bear to leave on an empty stomach. Her bags were already packed upstairs—just a few clothes and accessories. Not much, but enough to start over.
She knew she had to be smart about this. If any of the servants saw her leaving with a big bag, questions would follow. So she came up with a plan to send them all to their quarters.
Just then, her phone buzzed. The alert came in: ₦10,000,000 received.
She paused, glanced at it, and then calmly returned to her food. That kind of money didn't faze her. She had once lived a life of luxury, and in her mind, she would get it all back—eventually. Right now, this was just a step. A calculated move.
Once she finished her meal, she called out gently: "Butler French."
The old man responded from the garden, wiping his hands on a cloth as he walked in. "Yes madam, how may I help you?"
Frances softened her tone. "I'm feeling a little dizzy and weak. I just want to rest. Please, I'd appreciate being alone for some hours."
His eyes filled with concern. "Shall I prepare some herbal tea for you? Or perhaps call the family doctor?"
She waved it off with a weak smile. "No, Butler French. It's nothing serious. Just let me rest. I'll call when I need anything. Please ask the others to retire to the quarters."
"As you wish, madam. But please don't hesitate to call us if anything comes up."
With that, he left. And as soon as she confirmed the mansion was empty, Frances moved quickly—grabbing her bags, sliding quietly out the back. Within minutes, she was en route to the airport, and by nightfall, she was boarding a flight to Lichfield, a small quiet city in England where she could disappear.
---
That evening, Raymond returned home.
He met Butler French emerging from the kitchen, the other servants quietly setting the dinner table.
"Where is she?" Raymond's voice was cool, but laced with sharp tension.
"Upstairs, sir," Butler French answered. "She mentioned feeling dizzy earlier today. Said she wanted to rest. We haven't seen her since, as she requested not to be disturbed."
Raymond gave a small nod and headed upstairs.
The moment he entered her room, a strange silence greeted him. Something was off. The bed was undisturbed. He opened the wardrobe—empty. No shoes, no clothes, nothing personal left behind.
Even the restroom was bare.
Then it hit him.
She had left.
She had lied.
She had played him.
Raymond clenched his jaw and walked briskly to his study. His phone rang—it was the doctor returning his earlier call.
"Hello, young master. I just received—"
"Forget it." Raymond's voice was flat. He hung up without another word.
---
When Sky and Roger heard of Frances' escape, they were furious.
"Boss, this woman… she dared do this to you?" Sky muttered.
Roger, visibly burning with rage, stepped forward. "Boss, we can contact our guys outside the city. Just say the word—we'll trace her. We'll bring her back."
Raymond shot him a deadly look.
"Get out. Both of you."
They froze. "Sir—"
"I said get out. And listen carefully…" He paused, voice dropping to a deadly calm.
"Don't look for her. Let her go."
They knew better than to argue. Raymond Stafford had spoken.
---
Even Paris, Raymond's close companion, asked about Frances when she noticed her absence.
"She's gone," Raymond told her bluntly.
Paris raised a brow. "Gone? Where?"
He gave a cold shrug. "Doesn't matter anymore. Forget about her."
There was something final in his tone—something no one dared challenge.
---
The long-awaited wedding day of Marcus and Charlotte arrived in full grandeur.
The event took place in a luxurious hall in Macedonia, attended by some of the city's most prominent figures. The decorations were exquisite, the dishes plentiful, and the air was thick with glamour and gossip.
Among the guests, many of Marcus's mother's friends were left speechless by how extravagant everything was.
But behind the elegant curtain, a different scene unfolded.
Before the ceremony began, Charlotte pulled her mother-in-law aside. The two women sat together, just the two of them. Charlotte, dressed like a goddess, leaned in close, voice sweet but laced with intent.
"Mother," she purred, "do you remember the promise you made to me?"
Stompson Anna, Marcus's mother, offered a polite smile. "What is it, my dear?"
"You've already made today magical. But now, I need something else. Please, talk to Marcus. I want him to give me half of his properties. Or… is that asking too much?" Her voice broke slightly, as if she were about to cry.
Anna's face stiffened.
Half?
It took every bit of control to keep her face from twisting in horror. What kind of daughter-in-law was this?
But she masked it with a smile. "Oh sweetheart… you don't need that. Whatever belongs to Marcus is already yours. You're his wife, aren't you?"
Charlotte leaned back slightly, her expression suddenly sharper. "Really? Then why did you fight so hard to take the first wife's inheritance? Didn't you scheme for what wasn't yours too, mother?"
Anna blinked. Her mouth opened—but no words came.
Charlotte added, her tone still soft but menacing: "I'm only asking politely. Not like some… devilish acts from the past."
Anna's smile dropped for a second, but she recovered quickly. "Fine," she said slowly, eyes narrowed. "I'll talk to him."
"Thank you," Charlotte replied, raising her glass for a sip. "By the way, mother—what's wrong with your face? That smile looks… forced."
Anna said nothing. Just forced another smile.
But deep inside, she knew.
This wasn't a daughter-in-law…
She had married a viper.