163

163
Laila’s POV

I wasn’t afraid. No matter how much Hamilton sneered or how many empty threats she made, I couldn’t be shaken. I was Laila, and nothing—not her manipulative schemes or the drama unfolding around me—was going to take that away. They could say they were going to take a DNA test, but I knew the truth. I owned this body, my body. There was no doubt in my mind that I was Mr. Martin’s daughter, and I had all the strength to prove it.

We went to the hospital the following day, where they took my blood sample, as well as Hamilton’s. It felt like a strange formality—just another step in the twisted game they were playing. I wasn’t worried. I knew who I was, and they couldn’t change that.

By the time we returned to the mansion that evening, I had already mentally prepared myself for the moment when everything would finally be revealed. Nolan, who had been by my side through it all, stayed close, his reassuring presence providing me with the strength to walk into this final confrontation. Together, we entered the Martin’s group of companies mansion. The tension was palpable.

The room was quiet when Hamilton, in her usual overconfident manner, stepped forward. She looked smug, as if she already knew the results, as if she was certain they would prove her point. "The results came in this morning," she announced with a wide grin, holding up a sealed envelope in her hands.

I narrowed my eyes. She thought this was her victory. She was wrong.

Mr. Leonard, who had been standing near the back of the room, suddenly stepped forward with a commanding presence. His calm demeanor contrasted with the raw intensity of the moment. "I’ll be the one to open it," he said firmly, his voice cutting through the growing tension. "Only I am authorized to do so. The law dictates that I must read these results aloud, then distribute them among you."

Hamilton’s face darkened. Her smile faltered, but she reluctantly handed over the envelope. I could see the tightness in her jaw, the nervous twitch of her hands, as she reluctantly gave up the control she had so eagerly clung to.

Mr. Leonard carefully tore open the envelope and pulled out the paper inside. He scanned the contents, and a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "It’s as I suspected," he said, his voice steady but with an unmistakable note of satisfaction.

Hamilton’s eyes widened, her fingers digging into the edge of the desk as she leaned forward. "Well?" she demanded, her voice high-pitched and eager. "Tell us, Mr. Leonard, tell us she’s not his daughter!"

But Mr. Leonard’s words shattered her expectations. "According to the results in front of me," he began, looking straight at Hamilton, "it confirms, without a shadow of a doubt, that Mrs. Laila here and Mr. Martin are indeed legally father and daughter."

The room went silent. The air grew thick with the weight of the truth. My heart pounded in my chest, but my expression remained calm, even as Hamilton’s world crumbled before her. I saw the color drain from her face, the disbelief in her eyes. She was not prepared for this.

"No... this can’t be," Hamilton spat, her voice shaky. "This... this must be wrong! I don’t believe it!"

I could see the frustration building in her. She took the results from Mr. Leonard and held them up to her eyes, as if somehow hoping the paper would magically change before her. "This... this can’t be true! It’s a mistake. A mistake!" she shouted, her face flushed with anger and desperation.

I stepped forward, my movements deliberate, each step echoing in the silence of the room. I stood before her, my chin lifted in defiance. "As you can see, Hamilton," I said, my voice cold and unwavering, "I am Laila. I’ve told you this before, and now the truth has been proven. I am Mr. Martin’s daughter, and this is not a dream. It’s real."

My words hit her like a slap in the face. I could see the raw emotions flaring in her eyes—rage, disbelief, and something deeper, something far more personal. She had underestimated me, and now she was reaping the consequences.

The tension was palpable as I turned to face the rest of the room. Mr. Leonard’s calm demeanor remained, though I could see the glint of satisfaction in his eyes. He had been right. The DNA results had confirmed my identity beyond a doubt.

"I’ll be taking back my father’s company today," I continued, my voice steady, each word carrying weight. "The Martins Group of Companies will be mine, along with all of my father’s assets. Everything. Including the Martin family legacy."

I could see the surprised looks on their faces—my words had struck a chord. Hamilton’s lips trembled as she opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. It was as if she was choking on her own disbelief.

As I finished speaking, the room erupted in applause. Nolan was the first to rise, clapping with enthusiasm. His proud smile warmed my heart. It felt like a long time coming, but now, I had reclaimed my birthright, and no one could take that away from me.

Everyone clapped except for two people: Mr. Williams and Hamilton. I turned to face them, my expression hardening. Mr. Williams stood there, his face flushed with indignation. I knew what was coming next.

"My first order as the CEO of the Martin’s Group of Companies," I said, my voice ringing out with authority, "is to revoke Mr. Williams’ authority. Effective immediately."

The room went silent again. I could see the shock on Mr. Williams' face as he stepped forward, his hands clenched into fists. "How dare you?!" he thundered. "You think you can just take away my position? Who are you to decide what happens with my authority? Who do you think you are?"

I wasn’t intimidated. "I’m the CEO now," I replied, my tone calm but firm. "And I have seen enough. You’ve been pocketing company funds for personal gain, and that’s something I won’t tolerate. You’ve had your time, but now, you have no authority left. Not in my father’s company."

His face turned beet red, his anger boiling over. "This is nonsense!" he yelled, taking a step toward me. "I’ve been working for your father for years! Even when you were gone, when you were... lost, I continued working for the Martins! You can’t just—"

But I didn’t let him finish. "I don’t care about your history with my father," I interrupted coldly. "What matters now is that I’m in charge. And you, Mr. Williams, are nothing more than a memory."

His fists clenched, his jaw tight with fury. He looked as though he was about to explode, but I didn’t flinch. I had fought for this moment, and now it was mine.

I glanced over at Hamilton. She was silent now, her expression unreadable. For the first time since I’d walked into that room, she didn’t seem so certain of herself. She had lost. And I—Laila—had won.