Grandma's voice, as sharp as her beloved knitting needles, cut through the air, her unannounced presence causing a familiar feeling of irritation to rise within me.

"And what do you think you're doing here?" she said, her tone dripping with a passive-aggressive disapproval. "I thought you had sworn off any ‘family outings’ for the time being, hmm?"

As her gaze shifted towards Rafayel, her expression hardened further, implying a disdain for both of us.

I met Grandma's critical gaze with a hint of defiance.

"What I'm doing here isn't any of your business again," I retorted, my voice firm but weary. "Just because we're family doesn't mean you have a right to know my every move."

"You shouldn't speak to Grandma like that," Irene, her usually meek and soft-spoken demeanor in place, gently interjected, her voice a quiet plea. "No matter what happens, she's still your grandma, and you should show some respect."

My voice, laced with frustration and hurt, rose slightly as I addressed Irene, the pent-up emotions of years bubbling to the surface.

"Yes, Grandma will always be my Grandma," I acknowledged, "but you, Irene, who has always pretended to be so 'nice' and sweet, have ruined everything. You've always tried to take everything from me, haven't you? Well, I will be severing ties with the Delgado family as soon as possible."

Grandma's hand rose in a swift, reflexive motion, seemingly preparing to deliver a harsh slap. But before it could connect with my face, Rafayel's hand shot out and grabbed her wrist firmly, preventing the contact.

Grandma's eyes narrowed with a mix of surprise and fury, her face reddening with anger at being restrained by Rafayel. She tried to pull her hand free from his grasp, but his grip remained firm, holding her in check.

"I will never allow anyone to harm her in any way," he stated firmly, in a low, controlled tone, his gaze locked on Grandma, and his grip on Grandma's wrist unyielding.

She looked at him, her eyes narrowing in scrutiny.

"Who are you?" Grandm's anger at being restrained tempered slightly by surprise, finally registered Rafayel's presence. 

Rafayel, unfazed by her glare, responded calmly, "I'm her husband."

"I see," she said with a hint of mockery. "So, you're her 'husband.' How fitting, considering your... limited intelligence and financial status. A perfect match, indeed."

"At least I've never snatched someone else's fiancé," I retorted, my gaze flickering towards Irene. "Unlike certain people who I won't name."

"Enough!" Grandma snapped, attempting to assert her authority. "Stop bullying Irene. She's much younger and weaker than you."

I met Grandma's gaze, my voice firm and resolute.

"Oh, I know she's the weakest," I agreed, a hint of bitterness in my voice. "Maybe the grave would be a perfect fit for her, considering she always pretends to be 'nice' and kind, while secretly being cruel and manipulative."

Grandma, seething with anger, clenched her phone in her hand, fingers poised to dial securities.

"If you don't stop bullying Irene this instant," she warned, "I'll call security and have you removed from here immediately!"

A familiar figure approached us from the distance, their arms loaded with a colorful array of gowns. It was Lovato and her staff. Her eyes took in the scene, noticing the tension and disagreement, but they approached with a composed facade.

Lovato's eyes roaming over the scene, stepped forward.

"What's going on here?" She asked, her gaze flickering between Grandma, Irene, Rafayel and me. "I can feel the tension. Is there a problem?"

Grandma, her voice filled with irritation, spun around to address Lovato. She wasted no time in pointing a finger at me.

"She's been causing a scene in the boutique, darling," Grandma huffed, her eyes narrowed at me. "We had a disagreement, and now I demand you remove her immediately!"

Lovato's composure unwavering, shook her head. Her voice, though even, held a steel-like quality. 

"I'm afraid I can't do that, Lady," she replied. "She's a valued customer here, and I can't dismiss her without just cause."

Grandma's face flushed. 

"But she's nothing but a commoner," she spat. "She doesn't belong in a place like this."

"Her background is irrelevant, Lady,"Lovato's expression remained impassive. "All that matters is that she is our customer, and we treat all our customers with respect."

I stepped forward, my gaze flicked between Grandma and Irene.

"I'll buy all the dresses from Lovato's boutique," I declared. "And if either of you need something to wear, you can try your luck in the trash can, I suppose."

Grandma's face turned a shade of crimson that rivaled the most expensive gown in the boutique.

"You have no money, Leslie," she spat, her words laced with venom. "You're just pretending to be a big shot here. You think you can buy your way out of trouble?"

I smirked, my eyes glinting with defiance. "Oh, I can," I replied, my voice dripping with arrogance. "I have more money than you can ever imagine. And if you don't believe me, just wait until I start spending it."

"Oh, please," Irene scoffed, "You're so full of yourself. I know exactly how much you earn. It's barely enough to cover your rent and groceries, let alone the extravagant lifestyle you're pretending to live."

A smirk crept across my face as I met her gaze. 

"Is that so?” I replied, my tone dripping with sarcasm. “Perhaps you should review your financial records. I seem to recall a few rather expensive vacations and designer purchases charged to my card.”

Irene’s face flushed a deep shade of crimson. She stammered, “I-I… those were gifts.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Gifts? From who? A secret admirer? Or perhaps your wealthy sugar daddy?”

Irene’s eyes narrowed. 

"Don’t you dare,” she hissed.

“Oh, but I will,” I retorted, my voice rising. “You’ve been leeching off me for years, Irene. Living off my hard-earned money while pretending to be above it all. It’s time you faced the truth.”

"How dare you!" Grandma exclaimed, her voice trembling with anger. "Irene has been through so much. She's been sickly and an orphan since childhood. You should be ashamed of yourself for treating her so cruelly."

Rafayel's eyes narrowed. 

"Being an orphan or sickly doesn't give her the right to take advantage of Leslie," he replied, his voice firm. "She's been living off her money for years, pretending to be above it all. She's even stolen her fiancé. It's time she faced the consequences of her actions."

Grandma's face paled. She knew Rafayel was right, but she couldn't bear to admit it. 

"But Irene is her family," she pleaded. "We should stick together."

I shook my head. 

"Family is about love and respect," I said. "Irene has shown neither of those things. She has betrayed me and my trust. I will not tolerate it any longer."

I turned to Rafayel, my gaze filled with a mix of longing and resignation.

He seemed to understand my silent plea. With a gentle smile, he reached into his blazer pocket and pulled out a sleek, obsidian card. 

"Use this," he said, his voice low and reassuring. "Buy whatever you want."

"All the dresses in this boutique are mine," I declared, handing the card to the fashion designer. "I'll take them all, please."

Lovato's eyes widening at the sight of the unlimited ATM card, immediately sprang into action. She went into a flurry of activity, quickly gathering the dresses and meticulously packing them into elegant bags. 

The usually composed fashion designer moved swiftly and efficiently as if realizing the magnitude of the sale that was occurring.

Grandma, seeing the dresses being packed, desperation crept into her voice. "Please, leave at least one gown for Irene's baby shower. She needs something to wear."

"You can have one dress for Irene's baby shower," I agreed, a sly gleam in my eye. "But only if you're willing to compensate for all the hurt and pain that Irene has caused me. Can you do that, Grandma?"

"Ungrateful grandchild," Grandma scowled at me, her index finger pointed accusingly. "We've done so much for you, and this is how you repay us?"

"I've more than paid my dues with my hard work," I locked eyes with Grandma, my voice firm and resolute. "I've been kind and respectful all these years despite the way I've been treated. But if you continue to belittle my dignity and push me to the limit, I won't hesitate to take legal action. Understood?"

"You can't be serious," she said, attempting to retain her composure.

"Oh, I assure you, I'm dead serious," I replied, my voice unwavering. "I'm done with all the emotional manipulation and the constant barrage of drama. My patience has reached its limits."

The last dress, a cloud of ivory lace, was tucked into the box, completing the mountain of silk and satin that now dominated the boutique.  Lovato, her dark eyes twinkling with a mix of amusement and concern, approached me.

"So," she began, her voice a soft melody, "how would you like to bring these... treasures home?"

I gave a confident nod in response to Lovato's query, my eyes flickering towards Rafayel, who was standing nearby and smiling in agreement.

"There's no need to worry about transportation," I reassured them. "I'll have some bodyguards bring them home by truck. It'll be handled efficiently."

As we made our way towards the limousine, Irene suddenly appeared out of nowhere, her face a mix of frustration and despair.

"You're heartless," she exclaimed, her voice quivering with disbelief. "How could you take the dress I was supposed to wear for my baby shower? It's unfair!"

With a cold, emotionless expression, I replied firmly and evenly.

"Unfair?" I repeated, the word echoing hollowly through the air. "Isn't it ironic that you're calling this unfair? After all the things you took from me, how dare you claim it's unfair when I reclaim what should have been mine in the first place?"

Irene's words stung like barbs, her voice filled with bitterness and envy.

"You're so emotionally detached", she sneered. "You're going to suffocate Terrell with your stoic demeanor. And let's face it, you're simply not deserving of the finer things in life. Never have been, never will be."

Rafayel's hand shot out, his fingers closing around Irene's neck with a firm yet controlled grip. He leaned in close, his voice low and dangerous.

"Enough," he said, his tone menacing. "If you don't stop your insolent behavior immediately, I won't hesitate to cut out your tongue. Understand?"

Without another glance, Rafayel shoved Irene forcefully onto the sidewalk, her body dropping heavily in a heap of indignant fury. Then, turning to me, he gestured towards the open door of the limousine with a nod.

"Let's go," he commanded, his voice steady and reassuring.