Chapter 141: Helen's Fingers Trembled with Rage

"Who else could have done this besides you?" Helen's fingers trembled with rage.

She was always gentle and polite, never one to argue.

The word "barbaric" was the harshest insult she'd ever uttered.

Brooke crossed her arms and sneered. "You call this barbaric? You haven't seen anything yet!"

"You admit it?" Helen's eyes widened in disbelief.

Brooke's gaze shifted evasively. "Admit what? Where's your proof?"

"Even if I did it, what can you do? Property damage only becomes a case above five thousand. Did you think I didn't know that?"

Helen's chest heaved violently.

Daniel immediately stepped forward to shield his wife. "Mrs. Walsh, what did our wisteria ever do to you? Was this really necessary between neighbors?"

Clara surveyed the scene.

The once-lush wisteria lay in ruins. The trellis near the wall had been snapped in half, dangling precariously.

The entire yard looked like a war zone.

"Of course it bothered me!" Brooke grew bolder with Daniel's intervention. "It blocked sunlight from my vegetable patch and attracted bugs!"

She pointed at the broken wooden frame. "Those sharp edges faced my window—bad feng shui!"

Daniel laughed bitterly. "You can't plant vegetables in public areas. You complain about bugs? Your garden breeds mosquitoes!"

"The trellis was inside our property line. What about Professor Harris's trellis facing your place? Why didn't you tear his down?"

At the mention of Professor Harris, Brooke visibly shrank back.

Her cowardly bullying nature was laid bare.

Brooke curled her lip. "I just don't like you people! Acting all refined—if you're so fancy, go buy a villa!"

"Poor trash trying to play gardener, pah!"

Daniel was rendered speechless.

Helen couldn't get a word in edgewise.

Clara silently walked to the corner.

She picked up the damp mop, freshly used yesterday.

"Aunt Brooke, seems yesterday's lesson wasn't memorable enough."

Before the words fully left her mouth, the mop swung out.

"Ah—!" Brooke shrieked, stumbling backward before landing flat on her back.

Helen burst out laughing.

Daniel smoothly added, "You okay, Mrs. Walsh? Self-inflicted falls aren't actionable, you know."

A faint smile touched Clara's lips.

When intellectuals roasted someone, every syllable drew blood.

"Oh," Daniel added, "this mop just cleaned the toilet. Haven't rinsed it yet."

Brooke's face turned ashen.

"Dad," Clara feigned surprise, "we poured yesterday's leftovers down the toilet. Even though we flushed..."

"Aunt Brooke, is that... garbage water I smell on you?"