Larissa's Game of Thrones (Larissa) novel Chapter 136

Thalia.

The moment he saw the photograph, he recognized her. She was the employee his father had been having an affair with all those years ago. His mother had raised hell, calling in her entire family to threaten his father. Though he had only been three at the time, the memory was seared into his mind. His mother was a formidable woman; she would never tolerate infidelity, not even the slightest hint of it. After that, his father had toed the line, never daring to stray again.

Or so he had thought. It seemed that even after being fired, Thalia had maintained her connection to his father, somehow managing to give birth to his illegitimate daughter right under his mother’s nose. His father was useless in business, but a master of deceit.

“Thalia died in an accident five years ago,” Crispin continued. “To confirm Valeria’s parentage, all we need is a DNA test. Draven’s case is more complicated.”

Haskell knew what he meant. A standard DNA test couldn’t prove whether he and Draven shared the same mother.

“The orphanage has no records of Draven’s origins. The mystic who told your father that Draven would bring bad luck to the family has since passed away, leaving no trail. But don’t worry, sir. I’ll keep digging until I uncover the truth about Draven’s identity.”

“Good,” Haskell said, his eyes dark.

If his father’s ambitions were truly that vast, then the entire scheme—from the mystic’s prophecy to sending his real brother away and replacing him with an illegitimate son—would have been executed flawlessly. After so many years, uncovering the truth wouldn't be easy. With Thalia dead, they couldn’t even run a DNA test between her and Draven.

He stuffed the files back into the envelope and picked up the questionnaire again. The next question read:

[I feel that I am being deceived or that someone is trying to control me.]

○ Does not apply

○ Somewhat applies

○ Moderately applies

The receptionist paused, studying Haskell again before offering a professional smile. “I’m sorry, sir, we see many clients every day. I don’t recall you having a prior appointment.”

Before Crispin could retort, Haskell raised a hand. “It’s alright. Don’t give her a hard time.”

It was obvious the reception and security staff had been replaced during his month-long absence.

He took out his phone and dialed Draven’s number. The call was immediately declined. Haskell stared at the screen for a moment, his eyes hardening, before turning it off.

“Sir, if you’re trying to reach our president, he’s currently in a morning meeting and cannot take your call,” the receptionist explained with a practiced smile. “You can schedule an appointment with me.”

Crispin’s face was grim. “President? The real president is standing right in front of you!”