CHAPTER 260: THE WELHAVEN FORTUNE

The chandelier lights gleamed above Ophelia’s head as she stepped up to the podium, her sharp navy-blue dress cinched at the waist, pearls gleaming against her collarbone like armor. The press conference room at the Regal Crown Hotel buzzed with hushed anticipation. Reporters from every major outlet filled the rows of gold-trimmed chairs, their cameras already recording.

Ophelia adjusted the mic.

"Thank you all for coming," she said, her voice steady, controlled. "Today, I am here to confirm what has been long speculated, and what has finally been proven through legal documentation and certified DNA analysis."

She turned slightly to gesture to the poised young woman seated at her left. Brooke, dressed in a pale cream dress with her hair softly curled. Her expression was calm, almost docile, but her eyes sparkled with triumph.

"Brooke Chadwick," Ophelia continued, "is the biological daughter of my late sister, Maeve Welhaven. The results are indisputable. Brooke is the rightful heir to Maeve’s estate, legacy, and holdings. We are deeply grateful to have discovered this truth and bring our family back together."

The cameras clicked like a thousand tiny hammers as reporters surged forward, shouting questions.

"When was the test done?"

"Why was Brooke’s connection to the Welhaven family hidden all this while?"

"Will Brooke inherit Maeve’s company shares?"

Ophelia raised a hand, her smile polite but firm.

"This is a private family matter. All necessary legal channels have been followed, and the matter is closed. Thank you all for your understanding."

With that, she stepped down, flanked by two silent security men, while Brooke and Lottie followed at a measured pace. The reporters shouted after them, but no answer came.

They were ushered through a discreet hallway into a private lounge; a room filled with velvet seats and thick curtains that blocked out the chaos beyond the doors. As the security detail closed the doors behind them, Ophelia turned on the two women with eyes that no longer glimmered with warmth.

The smile was gone.

"I want to make one thing very clear," Ophelia said, her voice razor-sharp. "Neither of you will speak to anyone about how this came to be. Not to friends, not to staff, not to each other unless you are behind closed doors with no ears to hear you."

Brooke stiffened, the remnants of her public composure slipping.

"But we just confirmed the results of the test..."

Ophelia cut her off with a raised hand. "Are you stupid? The test was manipulated. And I made sure it stayed buried under enough legal layers that no one will ever find the original data. Brooke," she stepped closer, her eyes narrowing, "you will continue to play the role of dutiful niece. The moment either of you start talking, I won’t hesitate to flip the narrative. Understand something: I own the narrative. If this unravels, I will claim you manipulated and took advantage of me. That you forged documents. That you tricked a grieving aunt into accepting a fraud."

Lottie paled, her fingers clenching into her skirt.

"But you were the one who asked us to go along with it," she said, voice low.

Ophelia’s smile returned—this time, icy.

"Which is why I will bury you carefully, not violently. I’ll start with tax fraud. Then wire fraud. Then conspiracy. You’ both will spend years watching each other rot in court before you ever see the inside of a cell."

Brooke’s throat bobbed as she swallowed.

"We’ve kept our part of the deal," she said quietly.

Ophelia studied her for a long moment, then gave a single, curt nod.

"Make sure that you keep it that way and none of us will have regrets."

She turned on her heel and left the room with the same measured grace she had shown at the podium.

The moment the door clicked shut behind her, the room seemed to exhale.

Brooke turned to her mother, fury simmering just beneath the surface.

"Who does she think she is, threatening us like that?"

"She is covering her tracks," Lottie said, brushing invisible lint off her jacket with trembling fingers. "She beat us to it. But don’t worry, darling. Ophelia’s not as untouchable as she thinks."

Brooke raised a brow. "She could ruin us, and all for what? A pittance."

"She could," Lottie agreed, stepping closer and lowering her voice, "but she won’t. Not now. Not after standing in front of the entire country and claiming you as her blood. If she calls you a fraud, she calls herself a liar and a conspirator. She would be admitting to tampering with a legal document and publicly presenting a fake heir. Her reputation would crumble and she could lose everything."

A small, cautious smile tugged at Brooke’s lips.

"And you think she knows that?"

"She knows, Brooke," Lottie said. "That’s why she’s threatening us. She’s trying to control the only leverage we have, but the moment we become a liability, she’s exposed. She can’t touch us without setting herself on fire."

Brooke let out a breath and sat on the edge of the velvet chaise.

"So what do we do now?"

Lottie’s eyes glittered.

"Now we play the game better than she does. We keep smiling. We act grateful. You attend every gala, every charity event. You let her teach you how to dress, walk, speak like a Welhaven. And when the time comes, you remind her of the one thing she fears most, being replaced by her sister."

Brooke leaned back, her expression cool.

"She made me heir to prevent Lyse for being able to claim her inheritance."

"And now she’s stuck with you," Lottie said with a smirk.

For a long moment, mother and daughter sat in the quiet room, their schemes stretching silently between them like threads in a spider’s web. Outside, the press continued to spin their headlines, the public devoured every lie like sugar, and Ophelia’s plan seemed airtight.

But inside that room, trust was a brittle mask.

And Lottie, ever the survivor, knew that the woman who schemes with you today could ruin you tomorrow.

So she planned.

And watched.

Because the game wasn’t over.

Not until she had her hands on the Welhavent fortune.