Ophelia Gets Thrown Out (Ophelia) novel Chapter 29

**Paths Lead To Purpose — Kevin Masters**

**Chapter 29**

Zoe’s voice trembled as she poured out her heart, “If Ophelia’s true identity gets exposed at Grandpa’s party—if Mom and Dad discover that Alaric and I aren’t genuinely together, and that he has feelings for Ophelia, then this engagement is completely finished.” Tears streamed down her cheeks, each sob echoing the weight of her fears.

In that moment, the thought of being nothing more than a mere impostor, a fake heiress, crushed her spirit. The engagement, which had once filled her with dreams of grandeur, would vanish like smoke in the wind.

The prospect of becoming the laughingstock of all Dunhollow was a fate she couldn’t bear to contemplate.

Chloe’s expression darkened, her eyes narrowing as she formulated a plan. “It seems we have no choice but to take drastic measures,” she declared, her tone steely and resolute.

“Chloe, do you actually have a plan?” Zoe asked, her heart racing with a mixture of fear and hope.

Leaning in closer, Chloe whispered a few carefully chosen words into Zoe’s ear, her voice low and conspiratorial.

Zoe froze, her mind racing as she processed the implications of Chloe’s suggestion. “Can that really work? What if we get caught?” she questioned, anxiety tightening her chest.

Chloe smirked, a hint of mischief dancing in her eyes. “We won’t have to get our hands dirty. Someone else will take care of the dirty work for us.”

Ophelia’s tumultuous relationship with her previous family had always been fraught with tension.

Using a proxy to strike would be deceptively simple.

As dawn broke the next day, the sun shone brightly, casting a warm glow over the world.

Ophelia, feeling unusually light-hearted and eager to enjoy her day off, was abruptly interrupted by a message from Alaric.

She initially dismissed it, but the sight of a video link piqued her curiosity, compelling her to click on it.

To her astonishment, the video unveiled Abigail, completely unraveling, causing a scene outside the hospital.

With a banner held high, Abigail was accusing her foster daughter of having entangled herself with a wealthy sugar daddy, framing her brother, and being wrongfully imprisoned after being kicked out of the hospital.

Ophelia observed Abigail’s public meltdown with a cold disdain, a mocking glint flickering in her eyes.

“Abigail will go to any lengths to protect her precious eldest son,” she scoffed, the words dripping with sarcasm.

It seemed that Abigail’s previous attempts to reclaim her son had flopped; otherwise, she wouldn’t have so recklessly disregarded the Vossen family’s reputation, dragging a gaggle of bodyguards along to create a spectacle at the hospital entrance.

Noticing that Ophelia had been silent for a while, Alaric sent another message.

Alaric: [Ms. Rowle, how do you wish to handle your former foster mother? If you’d prefer to stay out of it, I can take care of her removal. Just a heads up, though, Ms. Rowle, you might have to officially acknowledge me as your sugar daddy after this.]

Alaric’s eagerness to assist Ophelia in dealing with Abigail was apparent, as he even hoped for Abigail to stir up more chaos, thus exposing their connection to the world.

Ophelia couldn’t suppress a slight smile as she typed back: [No need. Mr. Caldwell, you’ve already helped me with Aaron. This time, I’ll manage it myself.]

If her parents happened to stumble upon these videos, misunderstandings would surely ensue. She needed to clean up the Vossen family’s mess before it spiraled further out of control.

[Alright, I’ll wait for you,] Alaric replied succinctly, prompting a frown from Ophelia.

‘Is he at the hospital as well?’ she pondered, a wave of reluctance washing over her at the thought of going there.

With that in mind, she turned on her computer and, following Alaric’s lead, began to hunt down Abigail’s social media accounts. A few minutes of focused effort later, her phone was rendered completely inoperable, and all the videos Abigail had posted were wiped clean.

Abigail, sitting outside the hospital, watching her servants create chaos, suddenly noticed her phone screen flicker to black. Her expression darkened. “What’s happening? Why is my phone dead?”

She stood up, a grim realization dawning upon her—both of the phones she had used for filming had shut down and refused to turn back on.

“Mrs. Vossen, it appears your phones are broken. They won’t power on,” one of her aides informed her, concern lacing his voice.

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