175

175
The little girl padded barefoot across the creaky floor, doll clutched to her chest.

Her eyes were wide, wet with tears, as she crouched down beside Dr. Smith on the ground.

“Daddy…” her small voice cracked, trembling. “Why are you hitting Mommy again?”

Dr. Smith’s throat tightened, her heart pounding so hard it felt like it might burst. She pulled the child close with trembling arms, forcing a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

“Shhh, Leila,” she whispered, stroking the girl’s hair, her own voice shaky but trying to sound steady. “Mommy’s fine, sweetheart. Go back to your room, okay? Mommy’s fine.”

The man loomed over them, shadow swallowing them both, his expression stone-cold.

Leila looked between them, tears streaking her cheeks, then shook her head stubbornly. “No… I don’t want you to hurt Mommy anymore.”

Dr. Smith forced another weak smile, feigning calm even as her hands shook. “Please, baby… just listen to Mommy. Go back inside.”

Leila wiped her tears with the back of her tiny hand, her voice breaking as she pressed closer to her mother.

“Mommy… I want some ice cream. You promised me last time…” she whispered, her little face crumpling with sadness.

Dr. Smith  forced a smile for her daughter’s sake, brushing a strand of hair from Leila’s cheek.

“Yes, baby,” she lied softly, her voice trembling but sweet. “Of course, Mommy will get you some ice cream. Just… not right now, okay? Soon.”

But inside, her heart screamed the truth. I’m sorry, my dear child. Mommy doesn’t even have the money… not even for ice cream.

Leila’s sad eyes searched hers.

Leila tilted her little finger up, her tear-streaked face searching her mother’s.

“Pinky promise?” she asked softly.

Dr. Smith forced a smile through her own tears, hooking her finger gently around Leila’s.

“Promise,” she whispered.

Satisfied, Leila nodded and hugged her mother tightly before shuffling back to her room, clutching her doll as the door clicked shut behind her.

The moment silence settled, George seized Dr. Smith’s wrist in a crushing grip, dragging her to face him. His eyes gleamed cruely.

“You see?” he growled. “If you successfully carry out the whole plan and wipe Bellamy and his little family off… our daughter won’t have to beg you for ice cream. She can have anything she wants.”

Dr. Smith yanked her hand free, her voice trembling but furious. “What the hell are you saying, George? You don’t even have evidence to prove that you’re a fucking Bellamy! Do you think this is easy? I know I’m getting caught soon. We should stop these games and leave the Bellamys alone!”

George’s face twisted, rage flaring in his eyes. “And what are you saying, Yvette? My mom told me my father is Marcus Bellamy. Even if I’m illegitimate, I’m still his heir! I won’t back out. Nico Bellamy won’t just sit there and claim everything while I get nothing.”

Her breath hitched, tears brimming as she whispered, “For how long, George? For how long have you plotted this? For how long?”

He leaned in close, voice low and venomous. “I’m waiting for the perfect time. And if you prove stubborn, Yvette, I’ll take my rightful place in the Bellamy mansion—and I’ll kick you out. Then I’ll be with the finest women, not stuck with you.”

Dr. Smith’s voice cracked as the tears finally spilled.

“Really, George? After everything I’ve been through with you… you don’t even treat your daughter right, and this is what you have to say to me?”

George’s expression hardened, his lips curling in disgust. “Yes, Yvette. You are not cooperative at all. You’re not acting like the little obedient wife I married. You can’t even kill a fucking fly!” He stepped closer, his breath hot, his tone laced with menace. “Now go back and continue your duties. Right now, I need Nico Bellamy’s DNA—and I assume you know exactly how to get it.”

Dr. Smith’s whole body went rigid, her heart pounding with dread.

Dr. Smith’s knees nearly buckled as her voice came out hoarse, broken.

“George… I’m so tired. I’m so tired… six years of failed plans against one family… I can’t anymore. I can’t keep doing this.”

George’s eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening as he stepped into her space. His shadow swallowed her, his voice sharp as a blade.

“Tired?” he spat. “You know the consequences of not obeying me. I don’t have to say it.” His grip tightened on her chin, forcing her to meet his glare. “Now leave—and do as I said.”

Her lips trembled, her chest heaving with silent sobs as he shoved her away, dismissing her like a servant.

Dr. Smith staggered out into the night, clutching her bag tight against her chest.

Her steps carried her away from the cracked building and back toward the Bellamy mansion, the streetlights throwing long, shaky shadows across her path.

But even as distance grew, George’s voice followed her, sharp and echoing like a curse burned into her mind.

“You can snitch on me, Yvette, but just know… haha, I don’t need to say it. Expect me soon.”

Her pace quickened, breath catching in her throat, but the words didn’t stop.

“You haven’t gotten that DNA in years—working so close, even to his son—talk less of Nico Bellamy himself. And I’m done waiting. I don’t care how you’ll get it… just get it.”

Her legs felt weak, her chest heavy, but she forced herself to keep walking toward the grand mansion ahead—

Her shoes squeaked against the floors of the Bellamy mansion, but inside, her chest felt hollow.

You haven’t gotten that DNA…

Her hand trembled on the bannister, and in a rush of pain, her memory dragged her backward.

Some years ago after finding out Nico had a heir—

George’s fists had slammed against their wobbly kitchen table, his voice a thunder that shook her bones.

“You’ll go work at that boy’s school,” he barked, his eyes gleaming with cruel determination. “Do you hear me, Yvette? That Noah—he’s living the life our daughter was meant to have. His space should have been Leila’s!”

She remembered her own choked sob, her palms trembling as she pleaded, “George, please… he’s just a child…”

But George had grabbed her by the arms, shaking her until her teeth clattered. “I don’t care! I want that boy’s DNA. You’ll get close, you’ll smile, you’ll play nice—and you’ll bring me proof. That’s your duty as my wife!”

Her eyes burned at the memory, at the cruel truth she could never erase: Noah, a child, had become nothing but a pawn in George’s long, twisted game.

Back in the present, Dr. Smith gripped the stair rail harder, whispering under her breath, “I’m so tired… so tired.”