Chapter 63
Alex's POV
"Listen to me very carefully," I said, my voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Grace is my fiancée. My future wife. You don't get to follow her. You don't get to photograph her secretly. You sure as hell don't get to stand in my office and question her character."
"Alex, we've known each other our whole lives—"
"Which is the only reason you're still standing here." I moved around the desk, closing the distance between us. "The only reason I haven't already called security to throw you out. But my patience has limits, Violet. And you just crossed them."
Her face paled. "You can't be serious."
"Deadly serious." I reached for my phone, pulling up a contact. "Lucas? Get corporate legal on the line. I want every contract between Morgan International and Cooper Technologies reviewed. Today."
"Alex, no—" Violet lunged forward, grabbing my arm.
I shook her off. "Touch me again and I'll have you escorted out by force."
"You can't do this!" Her voice cracked. "Our families have worked together for decades! My father—"
"Your father will understand that business relationships require mutual respect." I looked at her—really looked at her—and felt nothing but disgust. "Something you clearly don't have for my fiancée."
Tears welled in Violet's eyes. Real or manufactured, I didn't care.
"Alex, do you hate me that much? Everything in the past was my fault, but don't hurt yourself just to get revenge on me... She... she's not worthy of you at all..."
"Get. Out." Each word came from somewhere deep and dark inside me. "Get out of my office. Out of this building. And unless you want Morgan International to pull every single dollar of funding from Cooper Technologies, you stay the fuck away from Grace."
Violet was shaking now.
"Do you understand me?" I demanded.
"Yes," she whispered.
"Lucas!" I called out.
The door opened immediately. Lucas had clearly been waiting right outside.
"Escort Miss Cooper out," I ordered. "And make sure security knows—she's not allowed back in this building without my explicit, written permission."
Lucas nodded, his expression carefully neutral. "Yes, sir."
Violet stumbled toward the door, mascara starting to run. At the threshold, she turned back.
"You'll regret this," she said softly. "When she breaks your heart—and she will—you'll remember that I tried to warn you."
"The only thing I'll remember," I replied, "is that I should have cut ties with you months ago. Close the door on your way out."
She left.
I pulled out my phone and sent another text to Lucas: After the current project wraps, terminate all contracts with Cooper Technologies. Permanently. Find alternative partners.
His reply came instantly: Understood, sir.
I sat back down, suddenly exhausted.
---
Margaret 's POV
The afternoon sunlight slanted through the hospital window, casting long shadows across the Persian rug.
On the table sat a manila envelope and its contents: a DNA paternity test report.
"Ma'am?" The butler hovered nervously in the doorway. "Should I... should I call Master Richard?"
"Not yet." Aria's voice was ice. She picked up the report again, her hands trembling slightly. "DNA Analysis: Sample A (Laura Parker) and Sample B (Emma Harrison). Conclusion: 99.97% probability of maternal relationship."
I felt sick.
"That manipulative little bitch," I hissed. "Laura Parker. All this time—"
"She let Richard adopt her daughter," Aria interrupted, her voice shaking with rage.
"Richard knew," I said flatly. "With how Richard protects that child, he must have known."
"Call the laboratory," Aria commanded the butler. "I want this report verified. Now."
The butler scrambled to comply. And I started calling my son.
---
Richard's POV
My phone buzzed for the third time in five minutes. Mother. I'd been ignoring her calls all afternoon, buried in damage control meetings about the IPO delay.
Then Grandmother's name flashed on the screen.
Shit.
I answered. "Grandmother, I'm in the middle of—"
"Come to the hospital. Now." Her voice was clipped. Furious. "We need to talk. It's urgent."
"I have meetings until—"
"Now, Richard."
The line went dead.
I stared at my phone, anxiety creeping up my spine. Unless something was seriously wrong, Grandmother never used that tone.
Twenty minutes later, I pulled up to the residence. The evening sun painted the brick facade gold, but the beauty was lost on me.
I found them in the drawing room. Mother sat rigid on the sofa. Grandmother stood by the window, hands clasped behind her back.
Between them, on the coffee table: a manila envelope.
"What's this about?" I asked, trying for casual confidence.
Grandmother turned. Her expression made my blood run cold.
"Sit down, Richard."
I sat.
Mother picked up a document from the envelope and handed it to me.
My vision swam as I read the title: DNA Paternity Analysis Report.
No. No no no no—
"That's impossible," I heard myself say. "This is fake. It has to be fake."
"We had it verified," Mother said coldly. "Three separate laboratories confirmed its authenticity."
The words blurred. Laura Parker... Emma Harrison... 99.97% probability...
"One of my business rivals must have fabricated this," I tried. "To damage our family's reputation—"
"This is a private family matter," Grandmother cut in. "How would a business rival even know about Emma's adoption? About Laura's involvement in our family?"
I couldn't answer. My mind raced, searching for an escape, an explanation, anything—
"You knew." Mother's voice shook. "You knew Emma was Laura's biological daughter. Didn't you?"
"I—"
"DIDN'T YOU?" Grandmother's shout made me flinch.
Silence fell like a guillotine blade.
Grandmother's face twisted. "Silence confirms everything."
I had. God help me, I had.