Olivia's hands trembled, the paper crackling like a dry leaf in her grip. her heart pounding in her ears as she stared down at the second paternity report. The room felt suffocating, her elaborate web of lies starting to unravel around her. Old Mr. Knight loomed before her, his gaze piercing, unrelenting. She felt naked under his scrutiny, exposed and vulnerable. Her heart pounded, each beat a deafening drum in her ears.
"No," she whispered, "this can't be... it's not... not possible." She says, staring at the man.
"This is fake," she stammered, clutching at the lies that were unraveling before her. "My son is Xavier's."
"Why are you so obsessed with my son?" The old man's voice was a blade, cutting through the tension. "Why claim the baby as his when you knew the truth?"
She swallowed hard, her throat tight with fear. The walls seemed to close in on her, the air thick with accusation. How did they get my son's sample? Her mind raced, but no answer came.
"It's fake, it can't be," she insisted, yet the seed of doubt had been planted, twisting its roots around her heart.
"Explain this one then." His hand shot out, thrusting another document at her. "Read it aloud. Explain how you managed this little trick."
Olivia opened the second report, her eyes darting over the damning words. She knew, deep down where the darkness lived, that the baby wasn't Xavier's. Money had bought her silence, deceit had shielded her secret. Until now.
"Read it," the old man commanded, sinking into his chair like a king upon his throne. His eyes never left her, watching every flicker of emotion dance across her face.
The room was silent, save for the quiet rustle of the paper in her shaking hands. Olivia stood, cornered by her own treachery, a solitary figure in the grandeur of the Knight estate, her world crumbling around her. She started to uncontrollably shake her head. Nothing made sense to her.
Olivia's hands trembled, the paper crinkling under her clammy grip. She mouthed the words silently, her heart a staccato drum against her ribs. The old man's eyes bore into her, demanding an audible confession she couldn't give. All she did was shake uncontrollably.
"Explain," he commanded each syllable a hammer strike to her resolve.
Her legs buckled, the room spinning. The room swirled, a dizzying whirlwind of colors that made Olivia's head spin. She wavered on the brink of passing out, her sight wavering and trembling, making everything around her flicker in and out of clarity. She pitched forward, a practiced fainting that never met the floor. Finn's arms snatched her up, his touch scalding through her blouse. Desperation clawed at her throat, but she choked back the sob.
"Speak, Olivia," Finn growled. His patience was a thread, fraying fast.
The report slipped from her grasp, fluttering to the ground like a wounded bird. Finn released her, stooping to snatch the paper, his movements swift and predatory. He scanned the contents, a silent curse etching across his face before erupting into a scream of betrayal.
"Olivia!" His voice was a whip-crack of fury.
She shook her head, lips parting in vain as lies tangled on her tongue. "Your grandfather-"
"What the fuck is this?" Finn cut through her deceit with venomous precision.
"Your grandfather... he did this because he likes Cathleen," she stammered, playing her last card. "It's Xavier's! It can't be yours!"
Finn's glare scorched her very soul. Disgust twisted his features as he spat out each word. "When you were thrown out of the house that day, I asked you if you were sure it was my uncle's-you lied to me! You dare fucking lie to me and use my son for your benefit, Olivia! What kind of vile creature does that?" He yelled.
"Grandpa!" Finn bellowed, turning to the old man for judgment.
"This woman," Finn's voice was a thunderstorm, relentless and unforgiving, "she's no mother."
His hands reached for the baby, his son, his blood. Olivia's protests died in her throat as she witnessed the ferocity of his claim. With a strength born from rage, Finn pulled the child into his arms, severing the maternal bond as if it were nothing but a frayed string.
"I am taking this boy, and there is nothing you can do about it," he declared, his chest heaving with every breath.
"From now on, this boy is mine and mine alone. I will protect you, son," he whispered to the child, a promise and a vow.
Finn's words sliced through the air, each syllable a nail in Olivia's coffin of deceit. "I want you out of this house and out of mine and my son's life," he seethed, his grip on the child unyielding.
Olivia's face contorted, raw desperation etching her features. "You can't take my son away from me!" she screamed, her voice cracking under the strain. "He is fucking mine!"
"Watch me." Finn's retort was cold and dismissive as he shifted the weight of the child in his arms and strode toward the door.
Panic clawed at Olivia's chest. She lunged forward, her plea sharp as shattered glass. "I'll sue you!"
"Go ahead," Finn spat back without so much as a backward glance. His scorn hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. "What would the judge say about your little fake paternity tests?"
Cornered, Olivia felt the walls closing in. Desperation soaked her words. "Finn, please. Just give me my son."
Tears streamed down her face, but Finn's gaze held no warmth, only revulsion. "Get out and never come back, Satan!" His voice was a whip, lashing out and leaving no room for doubt.
As Finn's footsteps receded, Olivia spun around, seeking an ally in old Mr. Knight. But the old man offered nothing but a cold smile.
"You've made your bed; lie on it," he murmured, rising from his chair with the grace of a verdict being delivered. He paused, his eyes holding a glint of finality. "Miss Williams, everything has an expiring date, including being sweet in bed. Have a great day."
The silence that followed was deafening, punctuated only by the echo of a door closing elsewhere in the house. Alone, stripped of lies and leverage, Olivia stood motionless-a discarded pawn in a game she had lost.