After Eustace left, Xavia stood in the courtyard and shivered from the cold. Refusing to let him have his way, she tightened her collar and followed after him.
Harold was standing inside the room next door when Xavia passed by. She caught a glimpse of him and felt a sense of familiarity. Curiosity got the better of her and she halted her steps. She gently pushed the door open to take a closer look, but before she could see clearly, Harold raised his cane and swung it toward her.
Xavia narrowly dodged the hit, but her movements were restricted due to her pregnancy and she got hit on the arm. She let out a sharp scream of pain and was left stunned when she fixed her gaze on Harold.
‘What?! How was this decrepit thing still alive?!'
"That child in your womb isn't Joseph's! How dare you deceive all of us, you vile witch!"
He had sensed that something was amiss long ago but had not managed to find any evidence. However, everything was now crystal clear. Xavia had actively sowed discord between Joseph and Chloe, inserting herself between them and wreaking havoc in their lives. But she had not stopped there. She deceitfully claimed to be carrying Joseph's child, inflicting even more injustice upon Chloe.
In the end, it was all just a scam.
"That’s not true, Grandpa. I am carrying Joe's child. You must have heard it all wrong since you're old," Xavia said, attempting to deceive her way out. She glued her eyes on Harold, while also subtly surveying her surroundings for any surveillance devices. "Didn’t you pass away a while ago?"
"What does that have to do with you?" Harold's face turned stern, his voice seething with anger. "And don't call me Grandpa. You’re not my granddaughter. You have no ties to the Whitmans. You've committed an immoral act, and you should prepare to face the consequences."
Refusing to say another word to her, Harold turned to head back to his room to call Joseph and reveal the truth. Behind him, a malicious intent crossed Xavia's mind. She looked toward a nearby flower vase before lowering her head to study her gloved hand, her gaze growing increasingly dark.
A loud noise echoed throughout the room as the vase shattered, its shards now splattered with blood.
Harold trembled and his phone slipped from his hand, dropping to the ground as blood began to trickle down his forehead. He stiffly turned around, locking eyes with Xavia.
"If you want to blame someone, blame yourself for meddling in my affairs and crossing paths with me here today."
Harold felt dizzy, his lips parted in disbelief as he pointed at her, unable to fathom her heartlessness and deranged behavior. But before he could utter a word, he collapsed to the floor.
Xavia showed no signs of panic. Knowing that the probability of Harold's survival was minimal, she quickly fled the scene. Given his age, a fall like that could easily be fatal, and considering his already frail health, being struck on the back of his head would likely be the end of him.
Having committed the act without any fear, Xavia felt exhilarated and excited. She had discovered Harold's big secret of faking his death and was eager to report it to Cyrus so that they could transform his staged demise into an actual one.
*
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