Chapter 10

Sunlight spilled gently over the windowsill of The Williams Family’s office building. Holding a warm cup of milk from my assistant, I was briefly transported back to that freezing wine cellar. On my desk lay documents for Smith Group’s bankruptcy liquidation, topped by the deed to my father’s old lab—its embossed seal gleaming solemnly in the sun. "Mrs.Williams, Willow Smith’s trial live stream is about to start," my assistant murmured. I opened the news app, greeted by a familiar photo: the once-proud Smith heiress clutching a patchy Persian cat, her makeup smudged, eyes hollow. In the courtroom background, her lawyer’s feeble defense against aggravated assault echoed dully. But in my mind, I heard her sneer from that snowy night a year ago: "Bastards are just bastards." My fingers grazed my abdomen, now flat and still. A month earlier, I’d delivered a healthy baby boy at a private Swiss clinic. In the incubator, his tiny fist curling as he yawned had lit up my world.