Echoes of Vengeance: The Sweet Wife’s Perfect Revenge

Chapter 178: Episode 3: Soup Scandal and Bubbles


At the Penthouse

The evening began with chaos. Alaric was in the study, and Aveline was on the couch watching the news on her laptop with a sketchbook in her lap.

Lucien Astor stepped out of the Blue House, his face unreadable, as he walked straight toward his personal car. The presidential security didn't even move, only stood stiffly as if the decision wasn't theirs to make.

The car doors shut, and in seconds it rolled past the gates, ignoring the reporters who shouted and tried to block the way.

The broadcast cut to the reporter, her voice edged with shock. "Breaking news. Lucien Astor has officially resigned from his position. He has refused to answer questions, and sources say the resignation is for personal reasons."

But the bold headlines scrolling across the bottom of the screen said otherwise:

'Astor Resigns Amid Growing Scandal - Is This the Beginning of the End?'

As if on cue, the footage changed. First, the blurred video of Aveline being slapped. Then Oscar's rampage at Grace and Bloom. No names of the Laurents were mentioned, yet every frame pointed back at the Laurents, at her.

Major channels didn't dare accuse them outright. But the implication was enough, every speculation was already turning in their direction.

Aveline muted the volume and dialed Charles's number. "Bro, how is the situation?"

[We can't do anything until they give a statement. Don't worry. The PR team is working on it.]

"Reporters?"

[Err… I'm sending you the video.] With that, he ended the call.

Aveline played the video as soon as it was received. It was footage showing the Laurent headquarters building entrance. Reporters were standing everywhere, bearing the cold and wind. Paparazzi lingered at the corners, pretending to sip coffee at nearby cafés, waiting for their shot.

"I'm so good at nothing but making a mess." Aveline sighed, setting the sketchbook aside.

The book held a sketch of an ikebana-inspired floral design drawn in pencil. It was a boat-like architecture in the middle, to highlight the import and export business of the Marstons, her next day's event.

Suddenly, she gasped, recalling something. She shot to her feet and rushed out of the penthouse.

Alaric came out of the study room at the sound of the main door's electronic beeps at auto-locking.

He was about to call her number, but her mobile was lying on the sofa. He couldn't help but leave the penthouse and saw the elevator floor number going down. It hit the ground floor. Shortly, it started moving again and reached the penthouse.

Aveline gasped when the door opened to reveal Alaric. "You scared me!" She patted her chest as she stepped out of the elevator.

"What happened?" he asked calmly. He walked beside her to enter the penthouse.

Aveline responded dramatically, spreading her arms wide. "There is a huge crowd of reporters in front of Ivory Towers."

Why wouldn't they appear when Lucien Astor had visited there in the morning? By now, the media would have learned about Alaric, hopefully not about her.

Though Aveline sounded like she was taking the situation lightly, he could feel the opposite from her tensed shoulders.

"Don't worry. The Astors will give a statement, and the reporters will disperse by the end of the night," he assured her.

Aveline nodded, sitting back on the couch.

Aveline did try to bury problems when they arose. Seraphina thought it as a weakness and played dirtier. And now, it was blown out of proportion.

Alaric used her laptop for a minute before handing it to her.

Aveline awkwardly smiled, looking at the live footage of the Ivory Tower's entrance on her laptop. "I didn't want to disturb you," she lied. She didn't know she could access it from her laptop, too.

Thus, the remaining evening was spent with Alaric teaching her about security technology and how she should use it at Grace and Bloom.

She had lots of questions: how, why, and what to do if hacked, and more. Alaric patiently taught her, forgetting the messy situation outside.

In the end, Aveline looked at Alaric in awe. "You know so many things. You make me look dumb. Just a bit." Then she giggled.

There were a lot of things her family kept her away from, saying it was a man's duty. And she never felt the necessity to learn back then. Now, it felt good to learn something she could use.

Alaric just shook his head in resignation. "Let's cook something." He shut the laptop and scooped her up from the couch as he stood up. "What do you want to eat?" he asked casually.

That excited her. She craved something creamy and hot. "Cheesy wild rice soup... with some shredded chicken in it."

He set her down as she instructed, "Go grab some onion, a few cloves of garlic, and in the pantry, second row, fourth box, two full scoops of rice."

By the time she returned, he had grabbed chicken, carrots, and celery from the refrigerator. With her little help, he continued to cook.

She sat on the island counter, legs swinging slightly as she leaned forward to watch him chop vegetables. "You know," she murmured, "I didn't expect you to be the type to cook."

"I'm not," Alaric replied evenly, setting chopped onions, carrots, and celery onto the board. "But I don't like relying on restaurants for everything." His eyes flicked toward her.

Though he didn't want her to cook, he chose to keep her around so that when the situation demanded, she could make something basic for herself.

When he set a pan on the stove, he slid the wooden spoon toward her. She carefully moved closer and stirred, letting him focus on other tasks.

When she whisked faster, "Slowly," he warned, briefly holding her hand to correct her motion. "If you rush it, it clumps."

Her brows arched. "So demanding, Mr. Lancaster."

He teased, "Only when it matters." His lips curved into the faintest smile when her expression changed.

At last came the part that caught Aveline's eye. The cheese. Cheddar first, sharp and golden, then a softer handful of mozzarella. The heat pulled them into molten ribbons, disappearing into the broth.

"Now that," she said, leaning closer as the aroma deepened, "smells like comfort."

"Here," Alaric held out the spoon toward her. "Taste."

She took it, lips brushing the edge, and hummed approvingly. "You are actually better at this than I thought."

He turned back to the pot, tossing in the shredded chicken and one last grind of black pepper.

Aveline tilted her head, watching him in silence. There was something comforting about this side of him, the CEO stripped away, sleeves rolled, moving with care not in his office, but in a kitchen.

"Stop staring," he deadpanned.

"Then stop being so distracting," she muttered, making him grin.

When he finally ladled the soup into bowls, garnished with parsley, he set one before her and leaned on the counter beside her. "Your cheesy wild rice soup," he said simply.

Her lips curved as she accepted the warm bowl. "Made by Alaric Lancaster. That alone makes it more dangerously tempting."

They quickly set the table with some bread, wine, and candles.

"Oh my god, this is so good after the touch of pepper." Aveline kept raining compliments until she sipped the last spoonful. "I ate too much." She rubbed her little plump belly in satisfaction.

He was grabbing the bowls when Aveline sprang up. "I'll clean them."

He didn't dismiss her. "I'll help."

"No, I will do it," she insisted and went to the dirty kitchen, armed with gloves, liquid soap, and a brush.

Five minutes passed with Aveline humming softly and Alaric focusing on Lucien Astor's statement to the media.

[When power gives liberty to family members, it becomes misuse. I cannot let that continue under my name. I am stepping down and offering my apologies to those we have wronged.]

The Laurents were good at PR, but the attention on the situation was beyond control. With Apex and NexGuard PR, the situation was merely controllable.

Suddenly, Alaric's eyes widened when he didn't hear Aveline's humming. "Sunshine!?" he called out from the dining hall. "All okay?"

"I'm okay," Aveline said, staring wide-eyed at the froth she had created. She shrugged anyway and added a little extra liquid soap for cleaner dishes.

Every plate she washed only added to the mountain of foam, filling the counter. When she finally turned on the water tap, it was as if she had unleashed a storm, white bubbles surged up, overflowing in a frenzy.

"Alaric!" she cried out, her voice echoing in a mix of panic and disbelief. She tried to reach the tap, but the foam spilled over the counter. "I can't stop the bubbles!"

Alaric rushed inside at once to the dirty kitchen.

She backed away, pointing at the foam. "The foam is attacking me!"

He paused at the kitchen doorway with a look that shifted slowly from concern to amusement. His lips twitched, holding back laughter as he took in the sight of her surrounded by bubbles.

"You..." he muttered, stepping closer, "used the soap without diluting it, didn't you?"

Aveline bit her lip, still waving at the foam climbing her arm. "Who dilutes soap?" She thought it was like body wash for dishes.

Alaric sighed in amusement as he reached for the tap to turn it off. "Sunshine," he drawled, brushing a handful of bubbles off his arm and her hair, "it's just soap. Too much of it."

But Aveline narrowed her eyes at the bubbles flying everywhere and accused, "Look at the army of foam. It's clearly plotting against me."

Alaric finally let out a low laugh, shaking his head.

When she heard his laughter, she smiled. She would rather face these small chaotic moments that made him laugh than the storms outside.

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