Chapter 293

The explosive revelation sent shockwaves through the grand ballroom, shaking the crystal chandeliers. Victoria Sterling felt the marble floor tilt beneath her designer heels.

"My God! This gutter rat is Victoria's lover?" A society matron gasped behind her fan. "What kind of depraved taste does she have? Engaged to Nathan Blackwood while rolling in the mud with this trash!"

The whispers cut like knives. "Rich girls always crave dirty thrills, don't they?"

"She even bore his bastard!" Another guest sneered. "Now she dares to parade as Blackwood's fiancée? What kind of monster abandons her own flesh and blood?"

The scandal erupted like champagne from a shaken bottle.

Suddenly, Dominic Reeves' mocking laughter sliced through the chaos. "Depression? Don't make me laugh!" He wiped imaginary tears. "A heartless viper like you wouldn't know depression if it bit you!"

The massive LED screen flickered again.

Medical records in crisp English appeared - damning evidence Victoria had paid millions to suppress. "Surprise, princess," Dominic taunted. "Your psychiatrist kept originals of all those forged documents. Smart woman - she knew you'd try dragging her down eventually."

Nathan Blackwood's knuckles turned white around the DNA report Julian Montgomery handed him. His voice carried icy precision. "This comes from the most reputable lab in the country. The results are indisputable."

Victoria's manicured claws dug into Nathan's arm. "Darling, when I left you, I wasn't in my right mind! The trauma, the medications-" Her tears smeared perfect mascara tracks. "I didn't know what I was doing in Silvercrest!"

Penelope Whitmore watched from the stage, torn between vindication and disgust. The viper had finally bitten herself - with venom lethal enough to kill her social standing forever.

Nathan's bitter laugh echoed through the sudden silence. He shook Victoria off like a diseased animal, watching dispassionately as she crumpled to the floor. Three years. Three years he'd spent vilifying Evelyn, defending this lying harpy. The irony burned like acid.

"Victoria Sterling," he enunciated each syllable like a death sentence, "we're done."

The ballroom doors burst open.

Four uniformed officers marched straight past the sobbing socialite - and clamped handcuffs around Margaret Sterling's bony wrists. "Margaret Sterling, you're under arrest for conspiracy to commit murder."

The cold metal clicked shut on a dynasty's downfall.