THE DISABLED HEIRESS, MY EX-HUSBAND WOULD PAY DEARLY.-Chapter 306 - 307
Hearing his brother words Uncle Festus stood there for a moment, blinking slowly. It was clear the statement had shaken him. But he was smart enough to know when not to push further. He didn't want to look petty or bitter—not in front of everyone, not when the family dynamics were already shifting in Oliver's favor.
So, swallowing down his frustration and straightening his shoulders, he forced a smile a crooked one at that and nodded. "No problem then. Since you've made that decision, who am I to say no?"
At that moment, hearing what Cora's father had just said in full support of Oliver staying in the house, Clinton's expression hardened immediately. His jaw clenched so tightly that a faint crack could almost be heard in the silence. His nostrils flared, and his eyes burned with barely concealed fury. It was like someone had just poured fuel into a fire he was desperately trying to keep under control.
But before he could let his tongue run wild and make the situation worse, Cora stepped in with the calm confidence of someone who was completely unbothered by their disapproval. She folded her arms and said casually, "Well, just to clear the air—Oliver has a mansion of his own. A big one, actually. But it's currently under renovation. He traveled and came back to find that the place no longer suits his taste, so he's remodeling it."
Her voice was firm yet composed, and the smug little smile that tugged at her lips only worsened Clinton's mood. She continued, "I didn't want him to stay in a hotel. This house has enough rooms—too many if you ask me and he's not even using one of the main ones. He's staying in my room. So there's nothing wrong with that, and there's certainly nothing for anyone to be worried about."
Cora's father simply gave a thoughtful nod. "Fair enough," he said, as if it all made sense to him. "If that's the case, then I have no issue with it either." He then turned to Oliver and said with a warm tone, "Oliver, come. You and I have a few things to catch up on. I want to hear more about some of these matters you've been handling."
Without hesitation, Oliver stepped forward with a small smile and followed him. Cora gave one last defiant glance in Clinton's direction before turning on her heel, her steps light and confident as she walked off.
The tension left behind in the room was thick enough to choke on. Uncle Festus's hands were trembling. His face was expressionless, but his clenched fists spoke volumes. Then, in one sudden motion, he stormed into the living room and grabbed a glass bottle from the table, slamming it hard onto the floor with a sharp CRASH! The sound echoed through the halls like a war cry.
"How dare that bastard!" he growled through gritted teeth. "How dare he keep stealing the spotlight like this! Not once. Not twice. More than three damn times! My own brother doesn't even give me a glance anymore!"
He began pacing furiously, every step filled with suppressed rage.
"Our plans," he muttered, "All of our plans to make sure nobody dares to stand beside Cora they're falling apart. That little rat Oliver is ruining everything! How do we fight back now when he has the full support of your uncle? When Cora is already talking marriage?"
Clint stood stiffly, his chest rising and falling with frustration. "Just imagine," he said bitterly, "If it wasn't for that bastard James, none of this nonsense would've happened. But that good-for-nothing coward ruined everything, and now he's out there running."
Clinton spat the words like venom. "Imagine. That crazy bastard."
After a long conversation between Oliver and Cora's father, the two men parted ways with warm smiles and a sense of mutual understanding. But as Oliver walked away, his smile began to fade, replaced by a deep, tightening feeling in his chest. He stopped briefly in the hallway, glanced up at the grand chandelier above him, and sighed.
Inside, he was conflicted, on the surface, everything looked good perfect even. Cora's father seemed proud of him, excited about the future, and already speaking like Oliver was truly part of the family. It should've felt like a win. But Oliver's heart wasn't at ease.
Because behind all this behind the smiles, the handshakes, the "father-son" talk was a lie. A lie they had both told.
The truth was, there was no relationship. No engagement. No real love story that brought him and Cora together. Everything was staged, played out like a well-rehearsed drama. And now, standing in this mansion, treated as the shining gem of the family, Oliver found himself under more pressure than ever before.
He knew one thing for sure if Cora's father ever found out the truth… it would break him.
And that was what Oliver feared most.
Disappointing Cora's father wasn't just about ruining his own image it would also mean betraying the trust Cora had fought so hard to gain from him. A trust that, not long ago, had been hanging by a thread.
His thoughts were spiraling, growing heavier with every passing second, when suddenly — buzz — his phone vibrated.
Snapping out of his thoughts, Oliver pulled his phone from his pocket and glanced at the screen.
Lisa.
His eyes sharpened, the name alone reminded him of the earlier message he had sent
a request for confirmation. A request for the truth behind the attack on Cora. Slowly, he opened the message.
And there it was.
Lisa's reply, short but explosive:
[Confirmed. The one who sent those men after Cora was Victoria. Robert's younger sister.]
Oliver's hand gripped the phone tighter. His jaw clenched so hard that the muscle in his cheek began to pulse. His brows drew together in a dangerous frown as a flash of something dark crossed his face.
Victoria.
He hadn't even thought of her.
Robert? Yes. That bastard had made enough enemies for himself. But Victoria? The girl who once smiled sweetly in every public function? Who always stayed in the background like she had nothing to do with power or revenge?
His lips curled bitterly.
He whispered, "She actually defied me again."
