# Chapter 42 Ugly Past: The Naked Truth
The champagne flute trembled slightly in Ingrid Ferguson's manicured hand as her accusations sliced through the elegant noise of the party like shards of glass.
Ian Carter's eyes widened in disbelief. He had heard the whispers, the rumors, the subtle glances cast toward Nicole throughout the evening. But hearing it directly from Ingrid's venomous lips still managed to shock him.
"You're telling me she kissed your brother?" Ian let out a hollow laugh, shaking his head. "Stop daydreaming. Nicole isn't crazy or stupid enough to chase after a f*ckboy like Eric."
"If you don't believe me, ask anyone here!" Ingrid's voice rose, shrill and desperate. "Everyone saw it!"
Her circle of friends exchanged nervous glances before reluctantly nodding, their loyalty to the Ferguson name outweighing their conscience.
Ian dismissed them with a wave of his hand, his jaw tight with barely contained fury. "Why should I ask the people you're clearly colluding with? Do you take me for a fool?"
Ingrid's porcelain complexion flushed crimson, the veins in her temple pulsing with rage. "It's true anyway! Nicole, you don't dare admit it, do you? My brother only cares about Wendy. You exist only because you can give her a blood transfusion. Stop your wishful thinking that you can still marry into our family. We will *never* accept you!"
She knew, with cruel certainty, that Wendy Quade was the sharpest thorn buried in Nicole's heart. Every time that name surfaced, it was like pressing on an unhealed wound, making Nicole feel twice as desperate, twice as hollow.
But tonight, something was different.
Instead of flinching, instead of retreating into that familiar shell of quiet suffering, Nicole's lips curled into a faint, almost imperceptible smile. She laughed—a light, airy sound that seemed utterly out of place amidst the tension. Her gaze swept coldly across the girls huddled behind Ingrid like frightened hens.
"The whole world knows about your brother's affair with Wendy Quade," Nicole said, her voice steady as steel wrapped in silk. "Ms. Ferguson, your words only confirmed what everyone already suspected—that he cheated during our marriage. You should have spoken out sooner. It saves me the trouble of proving it."
Ingrid's face drained of color. Her hand trembled as she pointed a shaking finger at Nicole, her composure completely shattered. She laughed—a bitter, ugly sound—and began spewing insults without holding back, as if trying to drown Nicole in the filth of her own past.
"Don't you guys know who she really is?" Ingrid turned to the growing crowd, her voice carrying across the floor. "Whatever she's wearing, eating, or using now is given to her by the men she slept with! Do you honestly believe she's some daughter from an affluent family?"
The temperature in the room seemed to drop.
Ingrid's outburst had not only alarmed those leaning over the railing on the second floor but also drawn the attention of nearly every guest in the venue. Heads turned. Whispers rippled through the crowd like wind through dry leaves.
Yet Nicole stood still, her expression cold and unreadable. She did not flinch. She did not cower. There was no obvious fluctuation in her mood, no crack in her armor. It was as if she were merely a bystander watching a particularly dull farce unfold before her eyes.
Encouraged by Nicole's silence—mistaking it for weakness—Ingrid pressed harder, her voice dripping with venomous glee.
"Nicole is a poor wretch who doesn't even have a penny to her name! When she was still married to my brother, she'd reach out to beg him for money just to get by. She was nothing but a maid in our house—doing the laundry, cooking, cleaning, and even landscaping! Whenever she came back to our villa, our maids would take the day off because she did all their work!" Ingrid laughed unrestrainedly, her eyes wild with malice. "Hahahaha... My brother didn't marry a wife. He married a maid! She's even worse than a maid!"
She was trying to strip Nicole of every shred of dignity, to expose the most unknown and vulnerable side of her past, to rip away the glittering facade and reveal the miserable, bleak reality beneath.
But just as Ingrid's laughter reached its peak, a cold, stern voice cut through the air like a blade.
**"Ingrid Ferguson!"**
The laughter died in her throat. Ingrid spun around, her eyes wide with shock and horror.
Her brother stood there, his face carved from stone, his eyes burning with an intensity that made her blood run cold.
"Brother?" she whispered, her voice suddenly small.
She had no idea when Eric had arrived. How much had he heard?
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## Reader's Impressions & Star Rating
This chapter was an emotional rollercoaster in the best way possible. Watching Nicole stand tall while Ingrid tried so desperately to humiliate her was incredibly satisfying—especially the way she turned Ingrid's own words against her, exposing Eric's affair without even breaking a sweat. There's something deeply cathartic about seeing a character who was once a victim now wield the truth like a weapon.
Ingrid's meltdown was ugly, desperate, and honestly pathetic. She thought she was revealing some hidden shame, but Nicole's cold indifference just made her look unhinged. And that final twist—Eric appearing behind her, his expression unreadable—has me on the edge of my seat.
The pacing was sharp, the dialogue cutting, and the psychological tension absolutely delicious.
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ **Rating: 4.8 / 5 Stars**
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## Next Chapter Prediction
Eric overheard everything—the confession about the affair, the ugly insults, and possibly even Nicole's unshaken composure. Now that the truth about his relationship with Wendy is out in the open, Ingrid is about to face her brother's wrath. But more importantly, Nicole's silent strength may have just planted a seed of curiosity—or regret—in Eric's mind. The next chapter will likely explode with confrontations: Eric vs. Ingrid, and possibly Eric facing Nicole with a completely new perspective.