The assistant had never seen Theodore Valentine in such a state.

The ruthless business tycoon now slumped in his recliner, his face ashen, crumpling the paternity test report in his trembling fist.

"Mr. Valentine!" The assistant rushed forward, pressing his fingers against Theodore's philtrum. "You're scaring me!"

Servants hurried in, frantically dialing the family doctor.

"Get out!" Theodore suddenly roared, hurling a crystal fruit bowl at the assistant. "Who gave you the right to act on your own?"

The bowl shattered at the assistant's feet, shards scattering across the floor.

The assistant froze. In fifteen years of service, he'd never seen this unflappable man lose control like this.

"The report is fake," Theodore rasped, his voice like sandpaper. "Do it again."

The assistant swallowed hard. "The procedure was supervised—"

"Shut up!" Theodore flung a tissue box at him. "Sophia and Alexander are siblings. Alexander looks like me, so..." His Adam's apple bobbed. He couldn't finish.

The assistant finally understood—his boss feared his son might not be his at all.

Outside, autumn wind whipped fallen leaves against the glass. The sunroom was tomb-silent.

Theodore stared at the Cymbidium orchid on the wall. The last plant Evelyn Grandelle had left behind, its slender leaves trembling like she once had.

"Could they share the same mother but different fathers?" the assistant ventured.

"Leave!" Theodore bellowed, veins bulging in his bloodshot eyes.

The assistant scrambled outside as the sound of shattering porcelain erupted behind him. The man who'd dominated the business world for decades was now destroying his last shred of dignity.

One month later, psychiatric hospital garden.

Evelyn sat on a bench in a pale gray sweater, sunlight softening her silhouette. A nurse combed through her silver hair, the strands flowing like liquid mercury.

Theodore stood ten meters away under a sycamore, fists clenched in his coat pockets.

He remembered Evelyn twenty-five years ago, sitting by the maternity ward window, sunlight filtering through her raven hair to cast delicate patterns on the floor.

She'd been so beautiful then.

"Evelyn." He finally approached.

She turned slowly, her gaze as distant as if he were a stranger.

"Who is Sophia's father?" Theodore demanded.

Evelyn's pupils contracted. Her fingers twisted the hem of her sweater. "I don't know."

Three words like poisoned arrows pinned Theodore in place. He laughed, the sound jagged and ugly. "So the noble Evelyn Grandelle was a cheater after all?"

Slap!

Her palm struck his cheek.

Evelyn trembled violently. "Where were you when Alexander had leukemia? In Victoria Windsor's bed!" Madness flickered in her eyes. "How dare you question me!"

"I wanted another child to save Alexander—you insisted on IVF!" Theodore seized her wrist. "And produced a bastard!"

"Victoria...Victoria..." Evelyn chanted the name like a curse, her nails digging into Theodore's hand.

He grunted in pain. The rational light in Evelyn's eyes was fading, replaced by the same madness from twenty years ago.

"Let go!" He yanked his hand back, blood dripping from her mouth.

A figure suddenly charged forward. Vincent Laurent struck Theodore's nape, shielding Evelyn in his arms. "Don't bite him. He's filthy."

Theodore staggered back, watching Vincent dab Evelyn's lips with a handkerchief, handling her like fragile porcelain.

"I never cheated," Evelyn whispered, her voice barely audible. "Never."

Clutching his bleeding hand, Theodore remembered that stormy night—rushing Isabella to the hospital with a fever, leaving Evelyn alone with a burning Alexander.

Perhaps some things had shattered beyond repair that very moment.