Larissa's Game of Thrones (Larissa) novel Chapter 673

Larissa’s words sent a wave of terror through Margot.

She was right. From the day she’d met Damon, she had cultivated an image of gentle devotion that he had never once doubted. To him, she was the picture of innocence. Her eyes were always filled with adoration, and she’d even taken a knife for him once, nearly dying in the process.

It wasn't just that Damon trusted her; he was supremely confident. The thought of ordering a paternity test, of admitting the possibility he’d been cheated on, had never occurred to him. After all, how could a woman who would die for him ever be unfaithful?

And so, she had won the gamble. Her performance had been flawless, and his masculine pride had remained intact.

“You look frightened,” Larissa said, her smile turning cruel. “What’s wrong? Don’t tell me your son really isn’t Damon’s.”

Margot’s composure finally shattered. “What did you do?!”

Larissa shrugged. “I didn’t do anything. Didn’t you check the news before you came storming in here? Someone leaked dashcam footage from the scene of the accident. Your butler, Herbert, was there, holding your son’s body and crying his heart out. Honestly, it was a more convincing display of grief than Damon himself could have managed.”

Margot froze.

“Logically speaking,” Larissa continued, her voice deceptively light, “if a butler’s young master dies on his watch, his primary emotion should be fear of reprisal. But Herbert? He was wailing, utterly heartbroken, as if he’d lost his own son. After a reaction like that, how could Damon not have questions?”

Larissa put on a look of mock pity. “Such a shame. You and your son were so close to a lifetime of luxury, and then he had that little car accident.”

She leaned in closer. “Tell me, if his bones had been a little stronger, do you think he might have survived?”

That was the last straw. Margot lost what little remained of her self-control and lunged, her hand raised to slap Larissa.

But she was no match for her. Before she even got close, a swift, hard kick to the stomach sent her flying backward.