I Married My Ex's Billionaire Father-Chapter 298: Recipients Of Her Will

"What do you mean family?" Ophelia roared.

The sound ripped out of her before she could stop it, raw, sharp, unrestrained. The moment it left her lips, camera flashes exploded like fireworks. White light burst across her vision, blinding and merciless.

Ophelia recovered instantly.

Her face transformed, fury melting into poise with practiced precision. She turned toward the paparazzi, lips curving into a gracious, composed smile that did not reach her eyes. One hand lifted in a soft, almost maternal wave.

"Thank you all for coming," she said warmly, voice steady. "We appreciate your respect during this difficult time."

Then she turned back.

The smile vanished.

Levi stood unmoved, his expression unreadable. Lyse remained silent beside him, her posture calm, her gaze steady, too steady. Ophelia hated that most of all. There was no triumph in Lyse’s eyes. No fear either.

Just certainty.

"Are you ready to do this here?" Levi asked quietly, glancing meaningfully toward the paparazzi lingering just far enough away to pretend discretion while straining for every word.

For a heartbeat, the world narrowed.

Ophelia stared at him, chest rising and falling as a thousand calculations raced through her mind. She could feel the moment teetering, balanced on the edge of catastrophe. One wrong word. One uncontrolled gesture. And tomorrow’s headlines would tear her apart. She imagined the headlines and she felt a shiver of horror.

She broke first.

Without another glance at Lyse, Ophelia turned sharply and strode toward her waiting car. The driver opened the door instantly, and she slid inside, slamming it hard enough to make the frame shudder.

The vehicle pulled away from the cemetery, tires crunching against gravel.

That was when the scream came.

"Conniving, senile witch!" Ophelia shrieked, fists slamming against the leather seat. "You planned this, didn’t you? You planned all of this!"

Her chest heaved as rage and panic tangled together, choking her breath.

The writing was on the wall now, unmistakable and cruel.

Her mother had known.

Somehow, through channels Ophelia had never suspected she had discovered the truth and moved in silence, weaving a plan so subtle that Ophelia had walked straight into it without ever seeing the blade.

It felt like standing in a river with the current ripping at her boat, no paddles, no footing, no way back to shore.

Too late.

Through the tinted window, Ophelia watched as Levi guided Lyse toward a sleek black car. His hand rested lightly at her back, his body angled protectively. As Lyse stepped inside, two identical SUVs fell into position behind them, engines humming low and purposeful.

Security.

Real security.

Ophelia’s nails bit into her palm.

Levi was not underestimating her. Not even for a second. Whatever Lyse was to him, ally, obligation, or something far more important, he was prepared to shield her with everything at his disposal.

Getting to Lyse would be nearly impossible.

Worse still, Ophelia had no idea how much her mother had uncovered. What had she known? How long had she known it? And why, why had she played the fool so convincingly for so long?

The answer settled heavily in Ophelia’s gut.

Because it had worked.

The Lyse move had blindsided her completely.

When the car finally pulled into the estate, Ophelia’s heart sank.

Three identical SUVs sat parked neatly in the driveway.

In her spot.

Her breath hitched as the full insult registered.

"Does anyone ever even do their job?" she screamed, composure shattering entirely as the car came to a stop. "Do I employ idiots?"

The driver stared straight ahead, wisely silent.

Ophelia flung the door open and stormed inside, heels striking marble with sharp, furious cracks. Her grief mask had slipped completely now, replaced by something raw and unhinged.

It was a chance to slap at someone, anyone. She was going to get rid of that energy one way or another and if some unfortunate member of staff had to take the fall then so be it.

She would have them removed immediately.

She didn’t care what her mother had said. Lyse had no right to be here, no right to breathe the same air, to walk these halls, to exist anywhere near her life.

But before she could unleash her fury, the butler stepped into her path.

"Miss Welhaven," he said gently but firmly.

Ophelia barely slowed. "Get the fuck out of my way you crone."

"Your mother’s solicitor is in your mother’s study," he continued calmly. "He would like to see you."

The words hit her like ice water.

Ophelia stopped.

The house seemed to tilt, the air suddenly too thin.

The solicitor.

The realization crept over her slowly, dread unfurling in her chest.

The will.

She had been waiting, no, expecting the call imaptiently. Anticipating the moment she would finally receive confirmation of everything she believed was hers by right. The estate. The legacy. Control.

And instead of a phone call, he had arrived.

In person.

Her anger drained away, replaced by something far more dangerous.

Fear.

A day ago, she had felt invincible. Untouchable. Like a champion in their prime standing tall in the ring.

Now, every step felt precarious, as though she were balancing on stilts over a chasm, one wrong move away from collapse.

She pushed past the butler and barged into the study without knocking.

The solicitor sat behind the desk, files neatly arranged, expression neutral.

And seated across from him...

Lyse.

Ophelia’s vision tunneled.

"Oh, Ophelia," the solicitor said pleasantly. "So good of you to join us."

She didn’t look at him.

Her gaze locked onto Lyse, fury and disbelief crashing together.

"What is she doing here?" Ophelia demanded.

"Ophelia, perhaps you should take a seat and..."

"I..." Ophelia’s voice rose, each word punctuated, deliberate, shaking with barely contained hysteria. "Said. What. Is. She. Doing. Here. In. My. House."

The solicitor sighed, rubbing his temple as though already weary of the storm he’d walked into.

Then he said quietly,

"Your mother asked for her to be here. You are both the recipients of her will."