The Hidden Empress Stripping Her Secrets After Divorce novel Chapter 265

"Where is your wife?" Arthur asked.

"She... she's waiting in the hall," Stephen mumbled.

Arthur gave a slow nod. He didn't tell her to come in, nor did he demand she leave. He simply stared out the window at the ancient oak tree, falling into a long silence.

A breeze swept past the glass, sending a flurry of yellow leaves spinning toward the ground.

"The matter of your wife drugging me," Arthur finally said, his voice ragged and worn, "is in the past."

Stephen's head snapped up.

Arthur didn't look at him. He kept his eyes fixed on the view outside, his voice so quiet he sounded as though he were talking to himself.

"I failed to raise you right. During all those years Vivian was part of this family, I failed to protect her. I stood by and let her endure so much suffering. And after she was gone, I failed to look after Evelyn."

He paused, a flicker of profound grief flashing through his cloudy eyes.

"I failed both of them."

A heavy silence descended upon the hospital room.

Stephen opened his mouth, but the words died in his throat.

"You know exactly how badly you've run the company into the ground these past few years," Arthur said, finally pulling his gaze away from the window to look at his son. There was no anger in his eyes, only bone-deep exhaustion. "From now on, I have no say in the company's affairs. And I don't want to be involved anymore."

Stephen's face drained of color. "Dad..."

"Let me finish." Arthur raised a hand to stop him, his tone steady. "Evelyn explicitly refused my inheritance. She told me she doesn't want a dime."

He took a breath, enunciating his next words clearly. "And I won't be leaving it to you, either."

Stephen's pupils shrank to pinpricks.

"Dad!" His voice cracked in panic. "I am your son! With the company in the state it's in, if you wash your hands of it now, what are we supposed to do?"

"What are you supposed to do?" Arthur cut him off, a sliver of emotion finally bleeding into his tone. "That is your problem."

He stared at his son with an expression of weary disappointment. "I've drawn up my will. Every single cent is being donated to charity. I am leaving you nothing."

Stephen looked as though he had been struck by lightning.

He stood frozen, his face ashen, looking as if someone had just punched him in the gut.

"Dad..." his voice trembled violently. "You can't do this..."

Arthur ignored him. He kept speaking, his voice growing fainter, as if he were giving his final instructions.

"Your youngest boy is twenty years old and still out causing trouble. He cracked another kid's head open just the other day. Get him under control, or he's going to cause a disaster you can't fix."

Stephen's lips quivered.

"Your mother has been gone for a very long time," Arthur said, looking back toward the window. "And I don't have many years left. I am done cleaning up your messes."

He turned his eyes back to Stephen. "I have already given you everything I had to give. This estate, the antiques your mother left you, and the absolute wreck that is the family business. If you want it, figure out how to keep it afloat. If you can't, sell it off while you still can."

His voice turned devastatingly cold. "Do not drag Evelyn into this to fix your mistakes. She owes you absolutely nothing."

Stephen swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing erratically.

"Dad, you can't..." His voice was reduced to a desperate plea. "My wife... she's pregnant again. The business is failing, the expenses are piling up, how am I supposed to survive?"

Arthur stared at him. He just looked at him for a long, heavy moment.

In that gaze was disappointment, exhaustion, and an emotion Stephen couldn't quite decipher.

"She's pregnant?" Arthur asked.

Stephen nodded frantically. "Yes, Dad. Three months along. The doctor said it's a boy..."

"The only reason I stopped Evelyn from calling the police on your wife," Arthur finished quietly, "is because you are my son."

The latch clicked.

Stephen pushed the door open and stumbled into the hallway.

His movements were sluggish, every step feeling as though he were wading through wet cement.

His wife was pacing the corridor. The second she saw him, she rushed over. "Well? What did the old man say? The inheritance..."

Stephen didn't even look at her.

He walked straight past her, as if she hadn't spoken at all.

She blinked in surprise, then immediately chased after him. "Stephen! Are you deaf? I asked you a question!"

Stephen stopped in his tracks.

He turned around and stared at the woman he had been married to for over two decades. His eyes were terrifyingly hollow.

"He said," Stephen began, his vocal cords scraping together like sandpaper, "the inheritance is going entirely to charity."

The greedy smile vanished from her face.

"Every last cent," Stephen added.

All the blood drained from her face.

"What—what about the company? What about the family business?" Her voice pitched into a hysterical screech. "And what about our son? What about the baby I'm carrying—"

Stephen didn't answer.

He turned his back and walked slowly toward the elevators.