Driven out of the grand mansion, a ruthless stepmother drops a sealed DNA test, exposing the terrifying truth behind the heir and his devoted maid.

The echoes of Julian’s cold command hung in the humid air of the grand foyer.

Pamela stood motionless near the marble archway, her emerald green leather skirt reflecting the amber light of the chandelier above.

She smoothed her dark hair back with a trembling, manicured hand, her brown boots clicking against the polished floor as she adjusted her posture.

“You think you can throw me out of this house like trash, Julian?” Pamela hissed, her voice laced with venom.

Julian didn’t even look up at her.

He kept four-year-old Leo buried against his shoulder, feeling the boy’s rapid, shallow breathing slow down under his gentle touch.

“Your car is already at the gate,” Julian replied, his tone low, quiet, and completely devoid of warmth. “If you step back inside this foyer after midnight, my security team will handle you.”

Clara slowly pushed herself up from the cold floor, wiping a smear of dust from her white apron while adjusting her navy blue uniform.

Her cheek was bruised red from Pamela’s strike, but her eyes remained fixed on little Leo with fierce maternal protection.

Pamela let out a sharp, mocking laugh that bounced off the high ceiling and the gold frame of the American flag mounted behind them.

She reached into her dark designer trench coat and pulled out a heavy manila envelope, tossing it onto the silver tray lying battered on the marble tiles.

“Read page four before you celebrate your victory, darling,” Pamela whispered, leaning in just close enough for Julian to catch the scent of her expensive perfume.

“Because by tomorrow morning, the federal court in Manhattan will freeze every single account tied to the Vance trust.”

Without waiting for a response, she turned on her tall heels and walked out through the heavy double doors into the pouring rain.