Who Cares About Him When I'm Married to the Richest Man?-Chapter 179: Drama Unleashed—President Fitzwilliam’s True Identity Revealed (Bonus - )

Chapter 179: Chapter 179: Drama Unleashed—President Fitzwilliam’s True Identity Revealed (Bonus Chapter)

Elara was taken aback, she knew one more piece of information than the guests present.

And that is Zayne Warner’s mistress is Cece.

Remembering how Mason would constantly accuse her of cheating back when they divorced, and how he praised Cece for being so pure and kind, she couldn’t help but laugh.

Is this not a case of reaping what you’ve sown?

It seems that he talked about it so much that even heaven couldn’t stand it anymore, so it arranged a real betrayal for him, though it wasn’t her who gave it, but his beloved Cece.

Moreover, the child Cece was pregnant with at that time wasn’t even Mason’s, no wonder Zayne couldn’t let her go, their relationship had progressed to such a stage, it couldn’t be easily severed anymore.

Elara paused for a few seconds before taking out her phone.

She dialed the police.

"Hello, I’d like to report that the suspect who harmed the little girl at Lumire Apartments has been found. She admitted it in front of everyone at the Sheraton Hotel, and there’s a recording of it."

Putting down the phone, Elara saw Grandma Fitzwilliam looking at her with a smiling face.

Feeling a bit embarrassed, worried that Grandma Fitzwilliam might think she’s cold-blooded, Elara quickly explained, "Grandma, that woman before..."

Grandma Fitzwilliam waved her hand with a smile, "I think you did well. A gentleman seeks revenge for his grievances, she used to bully you like that, what’s wrong with you retaliating? Especially when you’re doing it legally and in compliance with the law, Grandma won’t consider you meddling."

Elara felt awkward; she indeed had a tinge of revenge in her heart.

But those past events also caused her significant harm, although it’s best to forget, she isn’t a saint.

The Hathaway Family and The Warner Family were already in conflict, especially the Hathaway Family, who couldn’t care less about face and dignity at this moment. Zayne Warner at the wedding site was messing around with his mistress, it’s as if he treated them, the Hathaway Family, as fools, and their daughter as cannon fodder. If they continue enduring this, then they must be idiots.

The Warners could only try to pacify the situation, but the Hathaway Family was determined to call off the engagement; Gigi Hathaway had no objections either, clearly, this wedding couldn’t proceed.

In the end, the Hathaway Family left angrily, while the Warner Family watched helplessly.

Not long after the Hathaway Family left, loud sirens sounded outside. The Warners hadn’t understood what was happening when they saw a dozen armed police officers rushing in, heading straight for the backstage.

Screams and cries from Cece erupted instantly from the backstage.

Zayne Warner’s face changed, about to rush over to save his beloved, but was forcefully pulled back by his family members. His father, Walter Warner, kicked him hard and sternly rebuked, "At this point, are you still thinking about that woman? Look at what she’s done to our family! If she hadn’t committed a crime, would the police come to arrest her? Didn’t you hear that man just said there’s a murder case linked to her? Sit tight and don’t meddle!"

Zayne Warner had to suppress his anxiety.

He couldn’t upset his father and grandfather anymore.

Cece was quickly taken out, spotting Elara from afar, her gaze suddenly turned venomous, screaming hoarsely, "It’s you! Of course, it’s you! No one other than you would call the police on me!"

Elara acted as though she hadn’t heard it, calmly sipping her tea.

Cece screamed and struggled as she was pushed into the police car, crying out loud, "Senior Warner, save me! Save me!"

Zayne Warner’s face showed a trace of emotion, but hadn’t responded before Walter Warner smacked him hard, harshly glaring, "From now on, anything about that woman has nothing to do with you anymore. If I find out you’re secretly helping her, you’ll be out of the Warner Family! We can’t have someone as foolish as you here, I’m so disappointed in you!"

Zayne Warner didn’t dare make any moves after being scolded.

Cece was taken away, and the police approached Mason Jacobs, saying, "Mr. Jacobs, you were previously involved in this matter, additionally you’re the one accusing Cece of murder, we need your cooperation to make a statement."

Mason glanced slightly at Elara, then nodded, "Alright, I’ll cooperate."

Rosalind Jacobs hesitated a bit but followed Mason.

The lively hall only had a few remaining guests staring at each other in bewilderment.

What kind of matter is this?

This is the Warner Family, a prominent family with deep roots, Zayne Warner was seen as promising by everyone, how could... such a severe personal issue arise?

Elder Warner personally approached Grandma Fitzwilliam to apologize, "Madam, I apologize for the spectacle, I fear today’s wedding cannot proceed, would you like me to arrange a car to take you home?"

Grandma Fitzwilliam glanced at her granddaughter-in-law.

Her top-class car was parked outside, but she had lost touch with her driver earlier, and couldn’t get through.

If she went out now, she’d immediately be escorted to the car by the bodyguards.

She feared if her granddaughter-in-law saw that scene, Zion wouldn’t be done kneeling on durians for three months.

So, she nodded, agreeing to Elder Warner’s proposal.

Elara helped Grandma Fitzwilliam into the spacious Benz.

Elder Warner bid farewell with tears, "Madam, thank you for still remembering our Warner Family, this time, hope you’ll forgive us, I’ll host you again next time to apologize personally."

Grandma Fitzwilliam waved her hand, "These are trivial matters, with our relationship, I’d never hold a grudge about it. Elder Warner, educate the younger generation well."

Don’t let them pamper their kids to bully my granddaughter-in-law to support their mistress.

Elder Warner, upon hearing this, turned serious, "Rest assured, I’ll certainly discipline that wretch well!"

The car windows slowly rose as the car began moving forward.

Elara and Grandma Fitzwilliam sat in the backseat, each occupying one side.

Both were a little anxious.

Elara gently squeezed her hand on her skirt, wanting to ask something but not daring to speak, not even knowing how to phrase it.

Grandma Fitzwilliam, on the other hand, knew that the situation this time had a considerable loophole. If her granddaughter-in-law pursued the matter, she wasn’t sure if she could cover it up.

If she couldn’t cover it up... she’d have to sacrifice her eldest grandson.

Hopefully, Elara wouldn’t indiscriminately vent her anger even on her. She swore that this lousy idea of hiding one’s identity and pretending to be ordinary was Zion’s suggestion!

She had such a good granddaughter-in-law, she mustn’t ruin it!

Neither spoke, leaving the car silent for a while.

The car drove all the way to Zion Fitzwilliam’s small apartment in the city center, Elara didn’t ask anything, she turned to say goodbye to Grandma Fitzwilliam politely, "Grandma, I’m leaving now."

She originally should’ve invited Grandma Fitzwilliam for a sit-in, but her mind was too chaotic, so she dismissed the idea.

Grandma Fitzwilliam also sighed in relief, waved her hand slightly, "Goodbye, Elara."

Watching Elara turn and enter the community, she quickly raised the glass and the car left hastily.

After the car drove off, Elara paused.

She took out a key from her bag, attached to it was a card, which Grandma Fitzwilliam handed to her that evening. It was the key to a new house, with details of the community and door number written on the card.

She stared at the key for a moment, then turned to leave the community, flagging down a taxi.

She had never gone to see this house after receiving it.

Because she always felt it wasn’t hers.

But now, she had to go take a look.

She wanted to know what kind of house Grandma Fitzwilliam had gifted her.

It was also in the city center, but the location of the new house was much more bustling. Zion Fitzwilliam’s little house was in an old district. Although the surrounding area was convenient and lively, it looked dilapidated and didn’t resemble a major city.

But the new house was different. As she got out of the car, she observed the neighborhood—it was clear from just the gate how luxurious the place was.

Not far away was the International Trade Building, and on the other side, a bustling commercial street where every inch of land was worth a fortune.

This neighborhood was grandly perched in such an expensive area. The security at the entrance saw her and approached politely, asking, "Are you here to visit someone?"

The security guards almost recognized all the residents.

Elara shook her head and handed over a card, "I’m here to see the new house I bought."

The security guard immediately showed respect. The woman before him seemed unremarkable, her outfit likely costing at most five hundred dollars, yet she casually bought a house here.

And she only came to see it after buying, indicating she probably had more than one house.

He was glad he hadn’t judged her by appearance; otherwise, offending a big shot unknowingly could be disastrous.

"Alright, please follow me. I’ll take you there."

The security guard greeted another guard in the booth and then led Elara inside.

It was the first time in Elara’s life that she realized homeowners in top-tier luxury neighborhoods could have security drive them around to view their properties.

The guard took her to a standalone villa.

"This is your house. Please take a look. Here’s my number; call me when you’re done, and I’ll pick you up."

Elara nodded silently.

After the security left, she walked to the villa’s entrance.

Staring at the number on the door for a long time, she finally confirmed this house Grandma Fitzwilliam claimed to give her was indeed a villa.

Though not large, the villa’s price compared to apartments in this area could be nearly double.

This meant the villa was worth at least forty million.

After the impact of "The Fitzwilliam Matriarch" at the wedding, she was already somewhat numb.

Opening the door and walking in, she was startled again.

The interior was already furnished.

And it was in her favorite cream style, with every detail meticulously perfect.

Elara stood in a daze, feeling a sense of unreality.

She looked around the upstairs and downstairs—a four-bedroom, two-living-room, and two-bathroom house, fully confirmed—everything was decorated as the home she wanted.

But the problem was, besides her friends Esther and Zara, she had never told anyone what kind of house she wanted.

Her fists clenched slightly.

Sitting on the living room carpet, she sent a WeChat message to Esther, "Are you free tonight? I need to talk."

Esther didn’t reply, whether from guilt or being busy.

She wasn’t in a hurry since she knew where Esther lived. After clarifying with Zion Fitzwilliam, she’d go straight there.

Hugging a throw pillow to her chest, Elara started typing in her phone’s search bar, looking up "The Fitzwilliam Matriarch."

All that popped up online were some novels, and they were ancient romance novels, with no useful information.

Elara then typed "Fitzwilliam Family," and this time found a lot, but the information was too much and too mixed to determine which "Fitzwilliam Family" she was looking for.

In the end, she had no choice but to type in "Zion Fitzwilliam."

As expected, there was still no valuable information.

She laughed at herself; of course, if he approached her concealing his identity, the name likely wasn’t real either.

Just then, there was a noise outside the door, and it swung open with Zion Fitzwilliam striding in. On seeing Elara, his eyes betrayed a flicker of panic.

Elara looked up, smiling, "You got here quite fast."

Zion opened his mouth, having rushed over directly from a meeting, still in a business suit, looking a bit the worse for wear. He took off his coat and placed it aside, cautiously approaching her and explaining, "After Grandma sent you home, she called me. When I got back and you weren’t there, I guessed you’d come here."

So he hurried over nonstop, and sure enough, she was there.

Elara said, "That six million your dad gave me seems a bit much now. This house doesn’t look like it needs me to renovate it."

Zion hurriedly explained, "He was worried you wouldn’t like the decor and feared if you wanted to change it, you wouldn’t have enough money."

Elara smiled, a complex expression on her face, "A house valued over forty million, and with such great decor, who am I to complain?"

Zion’s hand tightened slightly. He sat down beside her, tentatively asking, "Are you angry?"

Elara shook her head.

Was she angry? Of course, a little. She didn’t like feeling deceived, not even by well-intentioned lies.

But she couldn’t muster much anger because she still had reason. Although she didn’t know his background, judging from others’ deferential behavior around Grandma Fitzwilliam, it was clear he was probably from more than just a family with a father who ran a small appraisal studio.

She was almost certain he was from a wealthy family, and a very wealthy one at that.

At the very least, not below the Warner Family.

What could such a handsome and gentlemanly man, who concealed his identity to live with her, possibly want from her? She didn’t have much of value, at most a bank card with two million in it.

But someone who casually gifted a house and six million for decoration wouldn’t care about her mere two million.

The possibility was only one thing—he wanted her.

"Why? I don’t understand." Elara looked up at Zion Fitzwilliam, her eyes genuinely puzzled. "I’m just an average woman, with nothing special about me. Why go to all this trouble for me?"

Her most presentable features were just her not-ugly face and her somewhat slim figure.

But would a nobleman from a wealthy family lack such women?

Besides that, she had nothing—her personality was timid, she was dull, her job achievements were only significant to ordinary people and probably worthless to him, not to mention she was divorced. What could he possibly want from her?