Chapter 116 Chapter 116
Chapter 116 Chapter 116
Scott didn’t say anything for a while. He just watched me while I finished with my last boxes.
That’s when he walked toward me slowly, like he was afraid that one wrong movement would make me disappear or even more angry than I already was. I stood by the bed, one hand resting on the zipper of a half-packed suitcase, bracing myself for another argument, or another plea I didn’t have the energy for.
When he reached me, he didn’t grab my arms or block my way like I had expected.
Instead, his hands settled gently at my waist.
The touch startled me. I really wasn’t expecting that to happen.
“Sabrina,” he said quietly, his forehead almost touching mine. “If I can prove to you that I’m not responsible for the baby your mother claims she’s carrying... would you stay?”
I froze as I thought about it for a few quick seconds.
My first instinct was to pull away, to snap back with something sharp and defensive. But the way he said it softly, stripped of arrogance, made my throat tighten.
I didn’t answer immediately.
Images flooded my mind in rapid succession. Claire standing in the foyer with that smug smile, Ace’s stunned face; the way Scott had looked when I accused him, the years of manipulation I’d survived at my mother’s hands.
“Sabrina, darling. You’re not saying anything. Please, if I prove it,” he continued softly, “will you stay?”
I swallowed.
“For how long?” I asked finally.
He frowned slightly. “What do you mean?”
“I mean,” I said slowly, choosing my words carefully, “even if you prove you’re not the father, my mother won’t stop. She never does. She’ll find another lie... she’ll find another way in. She always comes back.”
Scott’s thumbs rubbed small circles against my waist, grounding me. “She won’t come back. Not this time, Sabrina.”
I looked up at him. “You can’t promise that.”
“I can,” he said firmly. “And I will.”
Silence stretched again.
My heart pounded, torn between instinct and exhaustion. Leaving sounded better and freeing in theory, but terrifying in reality. Staying meant fighting battles I was so tired of fighting. Yet part of me wanted desperately to believe him.
“Okay then. If you prove it,” I said at last, “I won’t leave.”
Relief flashed across his face so quickly it almost hurt to see.
“But,” I added, pulling back slightly, “my problem isn’t just the baby. It’s her. She will always look for a way to come back into my life.”
Scott nodded once. “I know.”
“And?” I pressed.
“And like I said, Sabrina. She won’t be back this time because she’ll be going away for a long time,” he said calmly. “I guarantee you that.”
I blinked. Then, despite myself, a short laugh escaped me. “You’re not planning on killing my mother, right? Scott?”
His lips twitched, just barely. “No. I’m not killing your mother.”
“Good,” I muttered. “Because I don’t look good in prison orange.”
That earned a small, genuine smile from him. The tension in his shoulders eased, and I felt my own body relax.
“Come,” he said, releasing my waist but taking my hand instead. “Let’s settle this. Once and for all.”
I hesitated only a second before nodding.
As we left the room, Scott stopped a passing staff member, a young woman whose eyes darted nervously between us.
“Get Claire,” he instructed evenly. “And the rest of the staff. And Ace.”
She stiffened. “Yes, sir.”
“Bring everyone to the dining room,” he added. “What I’m about to do needs witnesses.”
The words sent a chill down my spine.
We walked side by side through the hallways, the house unnervingly quiet. My mind raced, replaying every possible outcome. What if Scott was wrong? What if Claire had found a loophole? What if this backfired and left me more trapped than ever?
When we reached the dining room, Scott pulled out a chair for me.
“Sit,” he said gently.
I did.
He took the seat beside me, his presence was reassuring. Slowly, one by one, people filtered in. Staff members lined the walls, whispering nervously. Ace entered last, his jaw tight, eyes flicking between me and his father. Claire followed him, chin lifted, lips curved in a smug half-smile like she’d already won.
She took her seat without being invited.
Scott waited until everyone was present.
Then he stood.
“I believe,” he began calmly, “that everyone in this house is aware that my mother-in-law has accused me of being the father of a child she may or may not be carrying.”
A murmur rippled through the room.
“If there’s anyone here who wasn’t aware,” he continued, “you are now.”
Claire scoffed loudly. “You make it sound like I’m lying.”
Scott glanced at her briefly, unimpressed. “I’m not here to argue.”
He turned back to the room. “I cannot say whether Claire is pregnant or not. That is not my place. But what I can say and with absolute certainty, is that I am not the father of any child she might be carrying.”
“That’s a lie!” Claire snapped, standing abruptly. “You know what you... what we did!”
Scott laughed.
Actually laughed.
It echoed through the room, calm and almost amused.
“Sit down, Claire,” he said. “You’ll get your turn.”
Ace shifted in his chair. “Dad,” he said quietly, “ I get that you have every right to defend yourself and clear your name from whatever mess this is... but what I don’t get is why are you doing this in front of everyone?”
Scott finally turned to his son, his gaze calm. “Because when I’m done, you and everyone here will understand.”
Ace frowned but said nothing more.
Scott pulled out his phone and dialed a number. “Yes,” he said when the call connected. “You can come in now. And don’t forget the document.”
He ended the call and slipped the phone back into his pocket.
We waited.
Every second stretched unbearably long. Claire shifted from foot to foot, arms crossed, her confidence flickering as uncertainty crept in. The staff whispered behind their hands. Ace’s knee bounced under the table.
I sat very still, heart pounding.
Finally, the doorbell rang.
Scott nodded to a staff member. “Let them in. Bring them here.”
Footsteps echoed down the hall.
When the guests entered the dining room, confusion rippled through the crowd.
Two men who were clearly policemen by their bearing, though they wore no uniforms.
And a third man, older, carrying a slim folder.
“A doctor?” I whispered, turning to Scott.
He didn’t answer.
The doctor approached Scott and handed him the document. Scott didn’t even glance at it before passing it directly to Claire.
“Here,” he said calmly. “Read this.”
Claire snatched the paper, her eyes scanning the page. Color drained from her face.
Scott turned to the room.
“I can’t get a woman pregnant,” he said evenly.
The room went deathly silent.
“And that,” he continued, his voice firm and unwavering, “is because I had a vasectomy.”
Everything stopped.
My breath caught in my throat.
Ace stared at his father.
Claire’s hands trembled as the paper slipped from her fingers.