Chapter 7 - The Twisted Truth
Vivian stood safely behind the line of heavily armed mercenaries, admiring Arthur's absolute defeat.
"I have to admit, faking my death in that car crash was expensive, but entirely worth the look on your face right now," Vivian laughed coldly.
Arthur ignored her mocking tone, his eyes locked desperately onto his crying son.
"Let the boy go, Vivian, he has absolutely nothing to do with this," Arthur pleaded, stepping forward before a mercenary shoved him violently backward.
"Oh, but he has everything to do with this, Arthur," Vivian smiled, gently stroking the baby's soft cheek.
"You really thought I was just a greedy woman trying to steal your fortune, didn't you?"
Clara stood bravely beside Arthur, her mind racing desperately for a way to turn the tables.
"You poisoned his milk, you tried to throw him on the marble floor, you are a monster!" Clara yelled across the damp room.
Vivian's expression suddenly darkened, her beautiful features twisting into something deeply sinister.
"I wasn't trying to kill him on the marble floor, I was trying to wake Arthur up to the truth," Vivian spat angrily.
She reached into her designer jacket and pulled out a folded piece of official medical stationery.
"Your beloved late wife didn't die giving birth to a miracle baby, Arthur," Vivian sneered, tossing the paper onto the concrete floor.
Arthur stared at the folded paper, a cold sense of dread creeping up his spine.
"Pick it up, Arthur, read the DNA results I paid a private lab to run last month," Vivian commanded.
Clara slowly bent down and picked up the paper, unfolding it with trembling hands.
She read the clinical text, her eyes widening in absolute shock as the words burned themselves into her memory.
"Probability of paternity: Zero percent," Clara whispered aloud, the words echoing through the silent utility room.
Arthur staggered backward as if he had been physically struck, his entire world crumbling into dust in a matter of seconds.
"He isn't your son, Arthur," Vivian mocked, her voice dripping with venomous satisfaction.
"Your wife had a secret affair with the estate's groundskeeper, and she planned to take half your fortune and run away with him."
Arthur stared at the baby, his chest heaving with overwhelming grief and betrayal.
"But I truly loved him," Arthur whispered, a single tear rolling down his cheek.
Vivian rolled her eyes impatiently and gestured to her heavily armed mercenaries.
"Enough of this soap opera, kill them both and make it look like a tragic murder-suicide," Vivian ordered casually.
The mercenaries raised their weapons, the laser sights settling squarely on Arthur's chest.
Suddenly, Clara noticed the massive, pressurized steam pipe running directly above Vivian's head, held together by a single, rusty pressure valve.
Clara grabbed a heavy iron wrench off the floor and hurled it upward with all her remaining strength.
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The wrench smashed directly into the rusty valve, snapping it completely off the pipe.
A deafening explosion of scalding, high-pressure white steam erupted violently into the room, instantly blinding everyone in a searing cloud of heat.
