From His Fake Wife to Billionaire Heiress Chapter 298: The Reveal

Satisfaction flashed briefly in Sophia's eyes before her expression softened further, melting into a look of gentle, tender melancholy.

Pulling the child close, she comforted him, her voice a soothing murmur. "Silly boy, of course not. He'll always be your daddy, forever and ever. You're his own flesh and blood—how could he ever not want you?

"It's just that your Great-Grandpa is home now. He's very old and not well, and we can't upset him. So you have to be a big, understanding boy. We mustn't let him know about this, okay? We have to protect Great-Grandpa from getting sad."

Jeremy gave a small, uncertain nod, his promise a sweet, childish chirp. "Uh-huh! I understand!"

"That's my good boy." A pleased smile touched her lips. Rising, she took his hand and began strolling casually further down the garden path, soon disappearing from view.

Moments after the mother and son vanished around the corner, a stooped, elderly figure emerged slowly from behind a thick, meticulously trimmed hedge of hydrangeas.

It was Caleb, out for his morning exercise.

He stood frozen, a towel still clenched in his hand for wiping sweat. All his usual stern composure was gone, stripped away and replaced by sheer, staggering disbelief.

What did I just hear?

Jeremy... is Lucas' biological son?

That child, whom he had reluctantly allowed into their home? The constant thorn in the relationship with his own grandson?

The boy Sophia had claimed was from a first love to win endless sympathy? That very boy carried the pure, undiluted blood of the Ashford family?

A wave of dizziness washed over Caleb. Bitter bile surged in his throat, hot and suffocating.

His hand shot out, gripping the cold surface of a nearby ornamental stone for support.

It took a long minute for the world to steady.

The pair was long gone. The path was quiet again, save for a few mocking trills of birdsong.

Blinding, white-hot rage threatened to incinerate his reason.

Caleb almost stormed out—to drag that audacious woman and his worthless grandson before him and tear their colossal lie to shreds right then and there.

But in the last second before his foot moved, the deep-seated calm forged by decades in business and family politics reasserted itself, forcibly quenching the impulse.

Caleb's eyes sharpened to flint.

He was no hotheaded fool ruled by emotion.

Sophia chose this time, this place, this "accidental" way to leak the secret. Her calculation is despicable.

If I charge out now in a fury, I'd be playing right into her hands. It would turn everything into a messy, public spectacle.

Slowly, his grip on the stone relaxed. The storm on his face was forced down, locked away beneath an iron will.

He turned and walked with measured steps back to the main house, heading straight for his second-floor study.

The study was dim, the heavy gloom mirroring his mood.

Caleb settled into the chair behind his broad mahogany desk and closed his eyes. The conversation replayed in his mind, sharp and clear.

So. They broke their promise to me long ago.

He remembered with painful clarity Lucas' solemn vow years prior.

His grandson had promised—sworn—to have no further private contact with Sophia for at least five years.

And yet?

Not only had they met, but they'd also had a child.

A child they had now smuggled right under his nose, into the heart of Ashford Manor itself.

And Sophia's words today? Every syllable dripped with cunning. Now, with cold clarity, he saw her entire plan.

This woman is far more ambitious than I ever guessed.

She must have noticed his hardening stance against Riley for her infertility and his growing, reluctant fondness for the boy during their interactions

She thought he was softening. That the time was ripe. So Sophia staged this little "accidental" confession on his morning route, using the child's voice to deliver the ultimate secret.

Her gamble was that even his fury would yield before the fact of a trueborn great-grandson.

A calculated move. Pre-empting any objection.

Caleb picked up the desk phone and dialed a familiar number.

It was answered on the second ring by a brisk, efficient voice. "Sir?"

"Send me the report. The one on Sophia's so-called first love."

"Yes, sir." No questions, just immediate assent.

The line went dead, plunging the study back into silence.

Caleb turned to his computer and waited.

Minutes later, a soft "ping" announced a new email.

He opened it, clicked on the encrypted PDF attachment, and typed the password with fingers that felt unsteady.

The document opened. The investigator's conclusion was stark: the subject's personal life appeared uncomplicated. No evidence of a serious or long-term romantic partner was found.