Chapter 7
"That won't do your reputation any good either!" Irene said.
Alban stopped dead in his tracks and spun around, glaring at her.
He snapped, "My reputation? That bitch destroyed it ages ago.
"She took my house, had another man's kid behind my back, and now everyone knows I got played for a fool.
"And you still want me to care about my reputation?
"Irene, have you lost your mind?
"If you hadn't kept insisting the house didn't matter and only my research did, would I have ever signed that stupid contract?"
He took all his anger out on Irene.
Irene flinched at his outburst, her eyes welling up with tears.
"I only wanted what was best for you..." she stammered.
Alban sneered, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "Help me. You were only thinking about yourself.
"You think I don't see you eyeing the role of professor's wife?
"Now that the house is gone, you're freaking out, right?
"Don't even think about pulling your tricks on me, Irene.
"Deal with Camille for me, and everything's ours.
"If you can't, then we're both finished!"
Irene looked at the man before her, his face contorted into something almost ferocious. For the first time, real fear and regret showed in her eyes.
She was just now realizing that the sure bet she'd handpicked was about to collapse right in front of her.
At ten o'clock the next morning, on the top floor of the city's most exclusive office building.
This was Gary's law firm.
Alban and Irene sat together on the plush leather couch in the reception area.
Alban had put on his sharpest suit.
He was hoping to salvage a bit of his dignity, and maybe regain some control over his life.
Irene sat beside him, her makeup was on point, but the tiredness in her eyes betrayed her.
She took in the lavish, ultra-professional surroundings, and her confidence was slipping fast.
A lawyer who could run a firm in a place like this was no pushover.
She wondered what had Camille turned into after all these years.
Gary's assistant brought them coffee.
"Mr. Ryan is in a meeting. Please wait a moment," she said.
They waited for half an hour.
Alban's patience was wearing thin.
He could feel his frustration and anger bubbling up again.
This was all Camille's way of putting him in his place.
She was making it clear, she was the one calling the shots now.
At last, the office door opened.
Gary stepped out, looking to be in his fifties, gold-rimmed glasses perched on his nose, radiating a calm, commanding presence.
He glanced at Alban and Irene, giving them a slight nod.
"Mr. Massy, Ms. Tucker, thank you for waiting," he said.
Without wasting any time on pleasantries, he ushered them directly into his office.
Huge floor-to-ceiling windows gave them a sweeping view of the city below.
"Take a seat," Gary said, gesturing to the chairs as he settled in behind his desk.
Gary took his seat behind the desk.
Alban was struggling to keep his temper in check.
He said, "Mr. Ryan, I'm not here to sit around and drink coffee.
"Show me that contract."
Gary nodded, pulled a folder from the safe, and placed the yellowed contract in front of Alban.
Gary said, "Here's the original. Take a look."
Alban grabbed the contract like he was snatching a lifeline.
His gaze was glued to the page, not budging an inch.
Everything was spelled out in black and white, no room for doubt.
The asset division terms were ironclad, no loopholes, no wiggle room.
And at the very bottom, his signature swept across the paper, bold and dramatic, with a glaring red fingerprint stamped right beside it.
It was real.
In that instant, Alban felt all the strength drain out of him.
He slumped back in his chair, his face ashen.
The house he'd always looked down on, the so-called "dead weight" he tossed away like it was nothing, was actually worth 3 million dollars.
And he was the one who let it go.
Irene leaned in for a look, and her heart plummeted.
She knew that this was the end.
The house was gone for good.
The office was dead silent.
The only thing they could hear was Alban's heavy breathing.
After a long while, he finally looked up, his eyes bloodshot, like a desperate beast caught in a cage.
Alban said, "Let's leave the house aside for now.
"Let's talk about the child.
"Is that child mine?"
That was the real reason he'd come here today.
The house was gone. He had to accept that.
But Lara was his last bargaining chip.
If Lara were his, he could use his status as the father to force his way back into Camille's life and stake a claim on her assets.
If Lara weren't his, he could expose Camille for cheating during their marriage and make sure she was utterly disgraced.
No matter what, Alban was determined to come out on top.
Gary's eyes were steady and cold, betraying nothing.
"About Lara's identity, my client, Camille Fairbank, expected you'd want to know," he said.
He pulled out a few sheets of paper from another envelope.
"What's this?" Alban asked, eyeing Gary warily.
"A paternity test," Gary replied.
Alban and Irene were both stunned.
Alban wondered when Camille got this done.
Alban snatched the report and flipped straight to the last page.
The verdict was right there, plain as day.
It read: [The test shows Alban is Lara's biological father.]
It hit Alban like a thunderbolt.
His mind went completely blank.
A tidal wave of euphoria swept through him.
He realized that Lara belonged to him.
He scoffed to himself, "Camille, you clueless fool.
"You really handed me such a huge bargaining chip, served up on a silver platter!"
Alban suddenly jumped up, pointed at Gary, and let out a wild, almost manic laugh.
"Look at this. She's my daughter, my own flesh and blood!" Alban shouted.