"What are you talking about?" Susan snapped defensively. "When did I ever lie to you?"
Oliver didn’t respond imdiately. He simply stared at her, his eyes cold, hollowed out by regret. Then, slowly, his lips curled into a bitter smile.
"I believed every word you said," he murmured with scorn. "I trusted you... and doubted my wife. I turned my back on Margaret. I even cast away my own daughter. And all of it... was because of you."
His arm shot out, finger pointing squarely at her. "You lied to . You handed a fake DNA test report and made believe Raya wasn’t my child."
His voice rose, laced with fury and pain. "You convinced to go along with that damned kidnapping sche. You made abandon my little girl—she was just a baby. And you made cold enough to leave her crying on the street like she ant nothing. How the hell could you do that to ? You destroyed everything I had."
Susan let out a cold, humorless laugh. "I ruined your family?" she spat. "No, Oliver. Don’t you dare pin this all on . You cheated on your wife. You left Margaret when she was barely clinging to her sanity. You were the one who tossed aside your daughter. I might have nudged you a little, but you made those choices. You let it happen."
That was the final crack. Oliver’s control shattered.
With a strangled sound, he lunged across the room, his hand wrapping tightly around her throat. Susan’s eyes widened as her back hit the wall.
"You twisted everything," he growled, trembling with fury. "You fed lies, poisoned my thoughts, and made hate the two people I should have loved the most. You stole my family from ."
Susan didn’t flinch. Even with Oliver’s hand clamped around her throat, cutting into her skin, she didn’t struggle. Instead, a cruel, knowing sneer pulled at her lips. She lifted her hand, fingers curling around his wrist, not to pry him off, but to dig her nails into his flesh as if daring him to go further.
"It’s not my fault you chose to trust a stranger over your own wife," she rasped. "Your marriage with Margaret was already rotting. You were just clinging to it because of her na, her family’s money, their influence. You needed her status, but you never truly wanted her."
She let out a bitter snort. "You were waiting for a way out. And I gave you one. You didn’t hesitate to take it."
With one swift motion, she shoved his hand away. He stumbled back slightly, fury flickering behind his eyes. Susan stood tall, rubbing her throat.
"Your insecurity, jealousy, and that deep resentnt you buried for years destroyed your marriage," she said coldly, her gaze sharp and accusing. "Not . You destroyed it. You turned your back on your wife. You abandoned your own daughter. Don’t stand here acting like you were tricked. You just needed soone to bla."
Her words hit like knives, slicing straight to the truth Oliver had been too proud to face.
He stood there, stunned, as the mories ca crashing down on him.
He rembered the day Margaret was rescued from the kidnappers. She had assured him that she hadn’t been raped. She had even provided her dical report to prove it. But Oliver refused to believe her. Instead, he chose to trust the evidence Susan had given him.
His mind had already been poisoned long before.
He had wanted to believe the worst. He had secretly resented Margaret’s closeness with Hugo, his half-brother. The way they laughed, the bond they shared—it had eaten at him quietly, feeding a jealousy he had never admitted aloud.
And Susan hadn’t needed to work very hard. All she had done was exploit the cracks already forming in his heart.
He had willingly walked away from his wife, his child, because he had been too proud to trust, too cowardly to confront the truth.
And now, standing in front of the woman who helped him burn his life to the ground, all he could feel was the unbearable sting of sha.
Oliver let out a bitter, broken chuckle. "You are right," he nodded. "I’m the one to bla. I destroyed my own family. With my own hands, I wrecked everything. And my daughter... she paid the price for my blindness."
A dangerous glint sparked in the depths of his eyes. "But you," he hissed, stepping closer, "you are just as guilty."
Before Susan could react, he lunged, grabbing her and slamming her down onto the sofa. His hand clamped around her throat, his grip vice-like and rciless. She kicked, clawed, her fingers scrambling for anything to latch onto, but he didn’t waver. His face twisted into rage, pain, and vengeance.
"Scared now?" he snarled viciously. "You should have thought of that before you decided to play with my life."
His eyes were wild, bloodshot, and burning with fury. Every ounce of betrayal, every mont he had hated Margaret and turned away from his daughter, fueled his strength. He wanted her to feel it.
But just when it seed he wouldn’t stop, a sharp crack echoed through the room as sothing slamd into the back of his head.
"Ugh—" Oliver gasped, his grip loosening as pain exploded through his skull. He stumbled back, dazed, one hand instinctively reaching for the injury. Warm blood stained his fingertips. His knees buckled, and he collapsed to the floor, his breathing heavy and broken.
A figure stepped forward and grabbed Susan’s arm, helping her upright. Her chest heaved as she coughed and caught her breath.
Oliver looked up, vision swimming. But his expression froze as soon as he set his eyes on the towering figure.
The man standing over him was tall, broad-shouldered, and unmistakable.
Hugo, his half-brother, the very man Oliver had cast out of the Grant family, the one he had disowned, shunned, and forgotten after the prison sentence.
He hadn’t seen Hugo in years, hadn’t cared to know whether he lived or died. But now, here he was with Susan.
Oliver’s heart pounded as suspicion surged like bile in his throat.
"You," he growled, disbelief crossing his face. "You are with her?"
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