I Married My Ex's Billionaire Father
Chapter 247: Best Of A Rotten Situation

Chapter 247: Best Of A Rotten Situation

Lottie hadn’t expected it to be this easy.

One moment she was pressing her palm to the keypad outside Dr. Maxwell’s gate, heart thrumming in her chest like a caged bird, and the next—click—the gate had opened, welcoming her like an old friend. She had expected alarms. A barking dog. At least a neighbor’s suspicious glance. But nothing. Only the sound of her own breath and the sharp crunch of gravel under her boots as she stepped up to the door and, with a trembling hand, tried the knob.

Now, standing in the grand foyer of Dr. Maxwell’s house—clean, modern, and smelling faintly of lemons and secrets—Lottie was at a loss. She hadn’t planned for this far. She hadn’t expected to get in.

There had been no next step, only a vague hope that something—a letter, a document, a photograph—would leap out at her and explain everything.

But now, silence loomed, pressing down on her like the thick velvet curtains hanging by the tall windows. She turned slowly, unsure of whether to retreat or press forward into the unknown.

A voice—calm, crisp, unmistakably amused—cut through the silence like a blade.

"Well, this is totally unexpected."

Lottie froze. Her blood iced over.

"I didn’t peg you for a burglar," said the voice. "But I suppose desperate women do desperate things."

Lottie spun, breath catching. Ophelia stood at the top of the sweeping staircase, her tall figure draped in a sleek black coat. Her hair, a cascade of dark gold, was twisted into a low chignon, and she descended with the grace of a queen, each step deliberate.

Behind her, Dr. Maxwell appeared, bewildered but unsurprised, clutching a file to his chest like a shield.

"Thank you, Gerald," Ophelia murmured, eyes never leaving Lottie. "You are dismissed."

Dr. Maxwell hesitated, glanced between the two women, and then vanished down the hallway without a word. The quiet clack of a closing door echoed like a gunshot.

Lottie opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

Ophelia reached the bottom of the stairs, folding her gloved hands in front of her. "Now, Lottie. Let’s not insult each other’s intelligence. You did not come here to admire Gerald’s hideous furniture. So tell me—" Her lips curved into a smile, though it never touched her eyes. "Were you planning to seduce him? Bribe him? Kill him?"

Lottie blinked.

Ophelia tilted her head. "No? Nothing? Tsk. You really should have rehearsed this part better, you had me excited but now i feel a creeping disappointment."

"I... I was not going to hurt him," Lottie whispered, finally finding her voice. "I just needed to ensure everyone knows the truth and you don’t try to subvert it."

"The truth?" Ophelia’s smile widened. "Is that what you’re still going with? Are you going to act like we don’t know the truth?"

Lottie’s lips parted in surprise, but she didn’t answer. She did not know what Ophelia knew but she did not want to make the mistake of spilling secrets if the woman was only bluffing.

Ophelia walked past her, pacing slowly around the room, her heels clicking softly on the polished floor.

"You know, I had my suspicions from the start. That child looks nothing like Maeve. She doesn’t act like her either. And Maeve, for all her faults, was a devoted mother. She would’ve died before giving up her daughter. But then you appeared, like a storm in silk gloves, whispering lies and half-truths."

"I never lied—"

Ophelia spun around, sharp as a whip. "You lied by omission. And now you have broken into a doctor’s home. That’s not a good look, darling."

Lottie’s heart pounded. "Please. I wasn’t going to do anything to harm—"

"Oh, but you were. Or at least you thought you were. Until you realized you had no plan, no leverage, and no clue." Ophelia’s eyes narrowed and her voice dropped, almost gentle. "Because I already know, Lottie. I know that she is not Maeve’s daughter. I know the child was never legally adopted. I know about the deal with Maeve, I know about her real daughter."

Lottie stumbled backward, her legs hitting the edge of the velvet chaise. "How do you—"

"Please." Ophelia waved a hand. "You think you are the only one capable of digging up secrets?"

Silence hung thick in the room. Lottie’s breath came in short, shallow gasps.

"I could expose you," Ophelia said softly. "With a phone call. You would be disgraced. Arrested, probably. Imprisoned. Your daughter taken from you and i don’t think she would survive that."

"Don’t," Lottie breathed, the word barely a sound.

"Oh, don’t worry. I haven’t... yet." Ophelia’s brows lifted. "That is the interesting part. I haven’t decided what to do with you."

Lottie dropped to her knees without thinking, as though her legs had given out from under her. "Please. Please don’t destroy our lives."

Ophelia blinked.

"I didn’t do anything wrong," Lottie said quickly, voice cracking. "I did exactly as Maeve asked, I told everyone that Brooke was her child, the child had no one else."

"And you just... what? Took her in? No questions asked?" Ophelia’s voice was cool, but there was a flicker of something in her eyes. Not pity. Not yet.

"I raised her. I loved her. I love her like I love my own daughter, please don’t ruin us."

Lottie bowed her head

The silence that followed was so complete that Lottie heard the slow tick of the grandfather clock in the corner. She didn’t dare look up.

Then—soft footsteps. Closer. And then, Ophelia knelt before her, not touching her, but close enough that Lottie could smell her perfume—violets and winter wind.

"I will forgive you," she said.

Lottie’s head jerked up.

Ophelia studied her face. "I will not call the police this one time..."

"Then—?"

"But you loyalty will be mine." Ophelia straightened, smoothing her coat. "You broke the law. You lied. And worse, you were sloppy."

Lottie swallowed hard, still kneeling. "What are you going to do?"

"Make the best of a rotten situation." Ophelia said simply with a satisfied smile.