Imdiately Festus opened his mouth, but no words ca out. His lips trembled, and his fingers dug into the arms of the chair he was sitting on, like he was trying to hold onto sothing anything—but everything was slipping away.
"You," Cora's father said, his voice rising with every word, "you were the one who tried to ruin my daughter's life! For what?! Because of your stupid ego? Because you couldn't handle soone else shining in this family?! You are a disgrace, Festus. A disgrace to this family. And you know what hurts the most?"
He took a deep breath, voice cracking for the first ti, but the anger still burned. "I regret… I regret ever calling you my brother."
The silence that followed was heavy. Clinton, still lying on the floor, was too scared to cry. Even Jas looked like he wanted to disappear.
"Well," Cora's father said after a mont, his tone now flat, cold, and final. "I know you've done more than this. Much more. And everything you've done? It's with now. All of it. And you…"—he pointed a shaking but firm finger at Festus—"and your worthless son… are going to pay. You're going to pay for everything you did."
Then, without waiting another second, he turned around and began to walk out. Each step was firm. Unshaken.
But just as he reached the door, he turned back slightly and spoke to Oliver with quiet authority. "I've already put everything in its place," he said. "Leave this matter to . This is family business. I know if it were up to you, you would have handled it in your own way. But let handle this the way I want… the family way."
At that mont, Oliver nodded slowly. His face was calm, almost unreadable, but the tone of his voice carried a quiet depth of understanding and respect.
"No problem," he said with a small shrug. "Since that is what you wants, I have no obligation. I trust your judgnt. I know you're going to do the right thing… so, I'm going to leave it to you."
With those final words, Oliver turned and walked away without looking back. His footsteps echoed faintly in the corridor, his hands tucked into his pockets, mind still racing with everything that had just happened. He didn't like letting things go so easily, especially when it involved Cora, but he respected her father too much to push the matter further.
**
After so hours handle his last mission for the day, and by the ti he reached the ho, the sun was already setting. The golden light filtered through the windows, bathing the living room in a warm, almost forgiving glow. But that calm didn't last long.
As he stepped inside, he could already feel it, Cora was there. Waiting. Pacing.
And the mont she saw him, she didn't waste a second.
"Oliver! What kept you so long?" she asked quickly, her voice laced with both worry and urgency.
She moved closer, eyes scanning his face for answers.
"I was hoping you'd co quickly. We really need to talk… like now. We need to sit down and talk about this fake plan of ours. We need to figure out what we're telling my dad—because if he finds out that all of this is fake... that we lied to him?"
She looked terrified.
"You know how my father is, Oliver," she added, gripping his arm.
"You know what he's capable of. If he ever finds out we made all this up—if he even suspects he's going to be extrely mad. Like, extrely."
She took a deep breath, her fingers still curled tightly around his sleeve.
"I know my father. I understand what he can do. And I don't want all of this to get to that point."
At that mont, just as Cora was still trying to catch her breath from everything swirling in her mind, a familiar voice drifted in from behind her.
"Well… I already know all of this, by the way," the voice said, calm but firm. "Oliver already told , and he already apologized."
Imdiately Cora's heart instantly skipped a beat.
She froze, that voice—it was her father.
Slowly, like a machine winding down, she turned her head toward the hallway and saw him standing there, arms crossed, watching them with a composed expression that made her even more nervous.
Her lips parted, and her voice trembled as she tried to process his words.
"W–Why would Oliver actually tell you?" she asked, her voice shaking more with each word. "What… what did he tell you?"
Her father stepped into the room, the edge of a knowing smile forming on his lips. He didn't seem angry. In fact, there was a strange warmth in his eyes, the kind that made it even harder for Cora to predict what was coming next.
"He told everything," he said gently. "He told … but I think he also told more and more."
He paused, then looked straight into his daughter's eyes.
"And you know what?" he added, his voice soft but steady. "I feel like Oliver is still my son. No matter what happened. No matter what actually happened between both of you. Oliver is still going to be my son."
Imdiately Cora blinked, stunned. Her hands were at her sides now, fingers twitching slightly.
Then, without thinking, she blurted out, "I don't know... so you actually told him that everything we had was fake?"
Her father's expression didn't change. He took a step closer and nodded.
"Yes, he told that also."
He sighed and cleared his throat. It looked like he wasn't done.
"Well," he began again, slower this ti, "I'm going to ask you sothing. Because Oliver actually said more."
Cora's brows furrowed, confused.
Her father's tone shifted.
"So I'm going to ask you," he said. "Do you actually feel anything for Oliver? Like… at the point where you were actually wanting this to be real?"
The room fell silent. Cora stood still, her eyes wide.
Imdiately after processing what her father just said, Cora was taken aback a little. Her chest tightened as she slowly stepped backward, her breath caught sowhere between her ribs and her throat.
What was her father actually saying? her mind spun.
"Father, why would you say sothing like that?"
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