Chapter 12: I Need A Paternity Test!
"Ugh, I can't stand that bitch!" Vanesa stormed into her lavish bedroom, slamming the door.
The walls, draped in soft silks, were decorated with gilded mirrors that shimmered perfectly in the afternoon light.
She paced back and forth, making her aggressively collide with the marble floor.
The maid stood by nervously.
"Can you believe it, Rebecca? Her! In my class. Who does she think she is?" Vanesa snapped. "Ugh!"
Rebecca tried to keep her calm tone. "Perhaps it was a mistake, Miss Vanesa. Maybe she'll drop out."
"Drop out? Ha! I doubt that girl would give up a chance to rub shoulders with people like me," Vanesa hissed. "Eira's just a lowly gold-digger! She's only here because she's married to that… Callian Reed."
Rebecca bit her lip, unsure of what to say. Vanesa caught her silence and snapped, "Well, don't just stand there! Say something!"
Just then, Beatrice walked into the room. She wore an elegant dress, a single ruby pendant was hanging from her neck, shining brightly against her pearl-white dress.
"Vanesa, darling, what's all this shouting about?" Beatrice asked, glancing at Rebecca with a raised eyebrow. "Why are you scaring the help?"
Vanesa turned to her mother. "Mother, you won't believe it. That girl, Eira—she's in my class!"
Beatrice frowned. "The one from the auction?"
"Yes, her," Vanesa said bitterly. "How can we be in the same class? We're the same age, too!"
Beatrice's eyes narrowed, her left eye was glitching a little. "How did she get into such a prestigious university? Who is she, anyway?"
"Well, I heard from my friends… She's married to Callian Reed," Vanesa spat the name out.
Beatrice's face twisted; she raised her eyebrows, and her jaw clenched. "That man! I can't stand him. But still, I thought you would be the one to end up with him."
Vanesa gasped. "Me? With him? Mother, I know!"
"For political power, of course, darling," Beatrice said sharply. "Nothing else. But, since he married her instead…" She paused, her gaze went to the window. "We'll have to do something about it."
A smirk slowly appeared on Vanesa's face. "So… what should we do?"
Beatrice walked over to the window, looking out at the sprawling estate gardens; she seemed to be deep in thought. "We'll keep an eye on her. Maybe there's a way to make her position… uncomfortable."
Before she could say more, the door opened, and Henry also walked in.
He crossed the room to his daughter, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Vanesa, what's wrong? I could hear your voice from the study."
Vanesa leaned into him and softened her voice. "Father, it's that girl from the auction… Eira. She's in my class, and she's bullying me."
Henry's expression darkened; his jaw tightened immediately.
Beatrice added coldly, "She's nothing but a gold digger, Henry. Picking on Vanesa to make herself feel important."
"A gold digger married to Callian Reed," Vanesa muttered. "It's disgusting."
Henry's eyes blazed with red fire. "Anyone connected to Callian Reed is no friend of ours. I'll go to the university myself. They should know who they've allowed in."
Vanesa's smile widened. "Thank you, Father. She'll regret ever crossing paths with me."
Beatrice nodded approvingly. "That's the only way, Vanesa. We'll remind her exactly where she belongs."
Beatrice's heels clicked sharply on purpose as she strode down the hallway with Henry trailing behind her.
She opened the door to his study and went inside, keeping her chin high and her eyes burning from the situation.
Henry closed the door behind them.
He could already sense the storm brewing, thanks to Beatrice's heavy inhales.
Beatrice turned to face him; she crossed her arms. "Henry," she began with an accusing tone, "tell me the truth. Is that girl, Eira… your child?"
Henry's eyes widened. "What? No, Beatrice! I don't know where this is coming from."
She rolled her eyes and stepped closer to him. "Oh, please. You think I can't see it? She looks just like Helen. That same hair, those same eyes. What, is she here to dig her claws into our family? Here to get revenge?"
Henry shook his head. "Beatrice, I told you, I have nothing to do with that girl. She is not my child."
Beatrice tilted her head, her lips curled into a cold and icy smile. "Well, if she's not your daughter, then why do you look so… nervous? I think it's time for you to tell me the whole story."
Henry sighed, rubbing his temples. "There is no 'story,' Beatrice. She's just some girl who happens to look a little like Helen. It's a coincidence, nothing more."
Beatrice scoffed. "Coincidence? You expect me to believe that? Look around, Henry. Girls like her don't end up in places like this by accident. She's here for something, and if it's to get back at you for abandoning her mother—"
"I never abandoned anyone!" Henry's voice rose, but Beatrice only raised an eyebrow; she was unfazed.
"Really? Then why are you so defensive?" she sneered. "I know you, Henry. You think I haven't noticed all those secrets? All those 'business trips' after she went to jail? You've always thought you could hide things from me."
Henry's jaw hardened. "Beatrice, you're making something out of nothing. I don't even know this girl. She's just a student. Let it go."
But Beatrice also shook her head, not believing him. "Oh, I'm not letting this go. I've already hired someone—a private investigator."
Henry's jaw clenched, his teeth gritted. "You did what?"
She smirked. "Yes, I hired someone. I'll find out exactly who she is, where she came from, and, if necessary, who her real father is. I won't have some… stray sniffing around my family, putting our money at risk. My money!"
Henry swallowed; his face immediately turned pale. "Beatrice, this is going too far. Eira is just a girl; she's no threat to you."
"Oh, I think she's a threat. And if you know anything—if you've left even one little loose end, Henry—I'll find it. Trust me."
With one last piercing look, she stormed out of the study, the sound of her heels repeating was heard even down the hall as she left.
Henry stood there in silence, his hand clenched into a fist.
As soon as the footsteps faded, Henry reached for his phone, dialing a number quickly.
"Dr. Miles? Yes, it's Henry. I need a favor," he said in a low and rushing voice. "Can you arrange a paternity test? Quietly. And I need it done quickly, before my wife decides to dig any deeper."