Chapter 374

Margaret's demand visibly shocked Richard.

Had she just asked him to banish Vanessa from the Hawthorne Estate?

"But Vanessa is our daughter. We raised her ourselves. How could we possibly cast her out? Margaret, could you truly do that?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

Margaret let out a bitter laugh. "Evelyn Sinclair, your mistress, swapped my child, and Vanessa stole my daughter's rightful place. Why should I show her any mercy?"

Maybe she had once loved Vanessa.

But the moment she discovered Vanessa—Evelyn's flesh and blood—had been deceiving her while secretly aiding Evelyn, all she felt was revulsion.

She couldn't think of a single way she had wronged Vanessa.

Yet Vanessa had leeched off her like a parasite, draining her dry, all while using the resources Margaret provided to fund Evelyn. The sheer audacity!

Richard attempted to appeal to Margaret's lingering maternal instincts. "Without our support, Vanessa will struggle terribly alone at Whitmore Manor!"

And now, with the truth exposed—

Eleanor had always despised Vanessa. If the Hayes family publicly disowned her now, wouldn't that be rubbing salt in the wound?

Richard couldn't possibly be that heartless. After all, Vanessa was his own flesh and blood.

Meanwhile, he conveniently forgot how tight-fisted she'd been when he'd begged her for financial help.

Margaret scoffed bitterly. "Well, Vanessa's going through a rough patch. Since you're so reluctant and sympathetic, stop bothering me here. Get out! Go comfort her immediately!"

She shoved Richard toward the door just as Evelyn and Oliver entered.

Spotting them, Richard blurted, "Your mother wants a divorce! Talk some sense into her! At her age, demanding separation is ridiculous. Won't we become laughingstocks? A split would damage your reputations too."

Evelyn didn't even glance his way as she strode past into Hawthorne Estate.

Oliver studied his father with cold detachment.

"Richard, Mother gave you a choice. You refused. Since you can't bear to cut ties with Vanessa, go live with her and Sandra permanently."

"But I'm your father!" Richard's voice cracked. "You'd really cast me out like this?"

The afternoon sunlight cast long shadows across the marble foyer, illuminating the dust motes swirling between them - a fitting metaphor for their disintegrating family bonds.

Evelyn paused halfway up the staircase, her grip tightening on the wrought-iron railing. Without turning, she uttered words that sliced deeper than any blade: "You stopped being our father the moment you chose her over us."

Oliver stepped forward, his polished Oxfords clicking against the tiles. "The lawyers will contact you tomorrow. Don't bother coming back."

As the heavy oak door slammed shut, Richard stood frozen on the manicured lawn, the autumn wind carrying away the last remnants of his delusions. Inside, the grandfather clock chimed four times - the death knell of his marriage.

Somewhere in Kingsdom, Vanessa's phone buzzed with an incoming call she wouldn't answer. The universe had a cruel sense of irony; the daughter he'd sacrificed everything for couldn't even spare him five minutes.

Upstairs, Evelyn collapsed onto her bed, pressing a shaking hand to her abdomen. The pregnancy test hidden under her pillow burned like a secret against the satin sheets. Would history repeat itself? Would her child someday look at her with the same betrayal she'd shown Richard?

Outside, storm clouds gathered.

"You..."

The door slammed shut with finality as Oliver turned the lock, leaving Richard standing alone in the hallway once again.

He exhaled heavily, staring out at the quiet night. A wave of loneliness washed over him, sharp and unexpected, like a traveler stranded far from home.

Inside, the dining table was meticulously set with Evelyn’s favorite dishes—each one prepared with care by Margaret.

Even after over a decade of being back with the Hayes family, this was the first time Evelyn had been treated like an honored guest.

Yet, she barely touched her food, her appetite clearly absent.

Margaret frowned. "Is something wrong, Evelyn? Do the dishes not suit your taste?"

Evelyn shook her head slightly. A full day had passed, and Alexander still hadn’t returned her calls.

He was supposed to be on a business trip, but by now, his flight should have landed.

The flight from here to Cresthaven only took two hours. Was he still angry?

"Try the tortilla soup," Margaret urged gently. "I had the chef prepare it specially—it's very nourishing."

Margaret carefully set a steaming bowl of tortilla soup before Evelyn. The rich aroma of spices filled the air between them.

Evelyn's face suddenly paled. She clapped a hand over her mouth, her body convulsing with sudden nausea.

Margaret froze mid-motion, her eyes widening in realization. The spoon she'd been holding clattered against the ceramic bowl.

"Evelyn?" Margaret's voice trembled with sudden hope. "Darling... could this be...?"

The kitchen fell silent except for Evelyn's shallow breaths as she fought to compose herself. Her free hand instinctively moved to her still-flat stomach.

Margaret's gaze dropped to where Evelyn's fingers rested protectively. A slow, knowing smile spread across her face. "Oh my stars... are we expecting?"

Evelyn swallowed hard, her cheeks flushing pink. She opened her mouth to respond, but no words came out. The possibility hung between them like a delicate soap bubble - beautiful, fragile, and utterly life-changing.