A Widow's Poison, A Wife's Rebellion novel Chapter 614

*Smack.*

A sharp thud echoed as the broom handle struck the back of her head.

Brinley cried out, spinning around to find Darleen standing over her, her eyes blazing with murderous intent.

"You killed my Faraday, and you expect Fairfax to protect you? You shameless bitch! How does someone as filthy as you even exist?"

Brinley flinched. Being called a bitch repeatedly by the woman who used to dote on her felt like a physical blow.

"The child is a Yelchin," Brinley insisted stubbornly. "Whether you believe it or not."

Even though she had confessed everything to Starla, she refused to admit it to anyone else. Denial was her only armor now.

Darleen let out a bitter, mocking laugh. "We might be locked out of our bank accounts right now, but we still have connections. I've already arranged for a DNA test."

As the matriarch, Darleen still had favors she could call in. Getting a simple paternity test was entirely within her power.

All the color drained from Brinley's face. "No. You can't test the baby."

"Why not? You claim he's Faraday's, right? I'll drag the truth out of you. If that child isn't a Yelchin, I'll see you in court!"

"He's your grandson!" Brinley cried desperately. "Do you really want a scandal to ruin his life forever?"

"If he actually has a mother like you, his life is already ruined," Darleen spat back, her mind ruthlessly clear.

She wanted desperately for the boy to be her true grandson—to know Faraday had left a legacy behind. But she wasn't going to let grief blind her to the horrific truth. She needed proof.

Standing in the warmth of the living room, they watched the chaotic scene playing out on the security monitors.

"Darleen really despises her now," Herbert observed, his gaze dark and unreadable.

Starla, wearing a stunning light purple gown that accentuated her elegant, resilient beauty, nodded softly. Her once-gentle eyes now held a razor-sharp edge, honed by the family's torment.

On the screen, Darleen shoved Brinley to the ground, screaming at her before delivering two solid kicks to her ribs.

"She used to worship the ground Brinley walked on," Starla said calmly. "Now? The hatred is absolute. She's beaten her at least ten times since last night."

And who was to blame? Brinley had systematically destroyed her own perfect life. Starla simply couldn't fathom why she threw away her position as the respected Yelchin widow for a miserable rat like Felix.