2025-07-06 05:12:28The moment the lawyer dropped the final line—“Sophia must still be married to him,” the room exploded.
Sophia’s hand flew to her mouth. She staggered backwards, eyes wide with disbelief. “No… no… no, this can’t be true,” she mumbled, her voice breaking into sobs.
Victoria jumped to her feet like something had stung her. “What rubbish are you reading?! This is a joke, right?” she barked, pointing at the lawyer. “You’re lying! You people have planned this with him! That boy must have paid you off, this is nonsense!”
The lawyer adjusted his glasses calmly, unshaken. “Madam, this document was signed, sealed, and witnessed by two senior partners of our firm. Your father gave these instructions himself. Everything was done legally.”
Sophia sank to the couch, still shaking her head. “I divorced him. I signed those papers. I… I didn’t know…”
Bohemia looked from Sophia to Michael with disgust. “So I’ve been wasting my time,” he muttered under his breath, rising to leave the room.
Michael stood quietly at the far end of the room, watching the drama unfold. He wasn’t smiling. He wasn’t gloating. He only watched the scene unfold, calm, yet heavy inside.
He never asked for this chaos. All he ever wanted was peace and respect.
But now, the very people who treated him like trash were being forced to kneel at the feet of truth.
The next few days turned the Donovan estate upside down.
Investors began calling, partners started asking questions, staff began to shift loyalty. Sophia and Victoria were losing control fast.
Then, it happened.
Victoria, desperate to reclaim the family name and power, cooked up a plan that would change the course of everything.
She invited a young female housekeeper into her room one evening. They spoke in whispers, the girl looking nervous, hesitant. Victoria pushed a brown envelope across the table with her eyes cold.
“Just say he forced himself on you,” she whispered. “We’ll take care of everything else.”
The girl hesitated. “But… he didn’t…”
“Do you want your family to eat this month or not?” Victoria snapped.
The trap was set.
The very next morning, police men stormed into the estate.
“Where is Mr. Michael Hargrove?” one officer shouted.
Michael, who had just finished mopping the west wing, stepped out in confusion.
Two officers grabbed him roughly.
“You’re under arrest for rape!” they announced.
“What?” Michael’s brows furrowed. “That’s not true. I didn’t do anything.”
But they weren’t listening.
Cameras flashed outside the gate as Michael was dragged into the black van. News had already leaked— “Donovan Cleaner Turned Billionaire Rapes Housekeeper!”
Social media went wild.
TV stations carried the story like wildfire. Bloggers twisted facts. Even some of the staff turned their backs, whispering behind his name.
Michael sat in the dark cell, staring at the wall. He said nothing. He cried no tears. This wasn’t the first time the world had treated him like garbage. Only this time, it cut deeper because he had tasted hope. He had finally begun to feel like he mattered.
And just like that, it was all gone.
Sophia watched the news from her room.
Her heart pounded with guilt. Her face was pale.
“He didn’t do it,” she whispered to herself.
But pride tied her tongue. After all the shame she poured on him, how could she defend him now?
Victoria entered her room, tossing her phone on the bed. “Problem solved,” she said.
Sophia looked up. “You did this?”
“I did what needed to be done,” Victoria replied. “Now we can take back control. That boy was beginning to act like he mattered. He was going to steal everything from us.”
Sophia turned away, biting her lip. The room felt colder than ever.
*******************
Weeks passed.
Michael remained in prison. No bail. No lawyer. No visit.
He lay on a thin mat, surrounded by stained walls and broken men. Every night, he replayed Henry’s words in his head—“You’re more than what they see.”
He tried to believe it.
Then came the court day.
The courtroom was filled with murmurs. Cameras lined the hallway. Reporters were ready to destroy what was left of Michael’s name.
Sophia and Victoria didn’t show up. They sent their lawyer instead, confident that the fabricated evidence would do the rest.
Michael sat at the dock, hands cuffed, and his face calm.
The judge cleared his throat. “We are here today to determine the fate of Mr Michael Hargrove, accused of rape...”
The doors at the back burst open.
All heads turned.
A tall, elegant woman stepped in. Dressed in a black coat, dark glasses, and holding a sleek black briefcase.
“Your Honour,” she said, removing her glasses. “My name is Clarissa Wren. I have evidence that will not only prove Mr. Hargrove’s innocence but also reveal who he truly is.”
The courtroom gasped.
Michael’s heart skipped. He recognised her immediately; she was the woman who stopped him in front of the grocery store weeks ago. The one who called him the lost heir.
The judge nodded. “Proceed.”
Clarissa walked confidently to the centre.
“Your Honour, the rape accusation was planted. Here is the confession of the housekeeper, admitting she was paid to lie.”
Gasps filled the air.
The judge frowned. “Where is this girl now?”
“In protective custody,” Clarissa replied. “And here—” she opened the briefcase, “—are the DNA results, adoption papers, hospital records, and a sworn affidavit confirming Mr. Michael Hargrove is, in fact, the missing heir of the Ainsley family.”
A wave of shock hit the room like thunder.
Reporters dropped their pens.
Even the judge leaned back in his seat, speechless for a moment.
“Are you saying…?” he asked slowly.
“Yes, Your Honour. Michael is not only innocent, he is the legitimate heir to the most powerful family in this city.”
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Chapter 188: The Offer
Sophia did not sleep.She lay on her back in the hotel room, eyes open, the faint hum of the city filtering through the window like distant breathing. Each time she closed her eyes, the words from the call returned, steady and unavoidable.A permanent executive advisory role.Directly under Michael Ainsley.By morning, she was already dressed when the alarm went off.She moved through the early hours of the summit on muscle memory alone. She listened, responded, took notes, asked the right questions. No one could have guessed that beneath her calm, every step felt like she was standing on a fault line. She noticed Michael across rooms the same way she had learned to notice him years ago, without looking directly, without reaching. When he spoke, she followed the logic of his arguments, the rhythm of his thinking. When he paused, she already knew where he was going.That was the problem.It was why the offer terrified her.By midday, she made her decision to speak to him, not later
Chapter 187: Watching Eyes
The shift was subtle at first.It began with looks that lingered a second too long during corridor conversations, with pauses that stretched just enough to suggest unfinished thoughts. Meetings that had always been straightforward began carrying an undercurrent of calculation, as if every exchange were being quietly weighed for meaning beyond its surface.Michael noticed it without being told.He noticed it when a junior executive stopped mid-sentence and restarted with different wording after Sophia walked into the room. He noticed it when an investor laughed a little too easily at a comment that hadn’t been intended as humour. He noticed it when a liaison casually asked whether “alignment” at the summit had gone beyond projections and numbers.None of it was explicit. That was what made it dangerous.By the third day of the summit, the speculation had taken on a life of its own, moving not through formal channels but through the spaces in between, private messages, informal dinne
Chapter 186: The Soft Talks
The documents lay spread across the table between them, edges overlapping, corners curling slightly from hours of handling. The room had grown quieter as the night deepened, the distant sounds of the city reduced to a low, steady hum beyond the glass walls. Only a few lights remained on in the summit wing, casting long shadows across the floor.Sophia flipped through a printed report, pen tapping lightly against the margin as she read. Michael sat opposite her, jacket off, sleeves rolled up, eyes fixed on a column of figures on his laptop. Neither spoke for a while. The kind of silence that settles after exhaustion had begun to replace urgency.Sophia broke it first.“This section still needs tightening,” she said, sliding the paper toward him. “The wording leaves too much room for interpretation.”Michael leaned forward, scanning the paragraph. “They’ll push back if we narrow it further.”She shrugged slightly. “They always do.”He adjusted the phrasing anyway, fingers moving acr
Chapter 185: Pressure and Alignment
The call came just after dusk, cutting through the low hum of activity in the summit headquarters.Michael was halfway through reviewing revised schedules when his phone vibrated sharply against the table. He glanced at the screen, noted the caller ID, and answered without preamble.“Yes.”The voice on the other end did not bother with pleasantries. One of the consortium’s largest private investors had concerns, serious ones. Currency exposure. Political risk. A lack of assurance on phased returns. The tone was firm, bordering on final.“They’re threatening to pull out,” the liaison said. “If they do, others will follow.”Michael didn't respond immediately. He walked to the window, looking down at the dimly lit courtyard below, then asked a single question. “How much time?”“Until morning,” the liaison replied. “They want revised guarantees before market open.”Michael ended the call and stood still for a moment. Then he turned, already moving toward the conference area.Within minu
Chapter 184: Clarissa’s Clean Break
Clarissa signed the extension in a quiet office with no ceremony to mark the moment.The document lay flat on the table between her and the governor’s chief of staff, its pages already initialled where necessary. She picked up the pen, skimmed the final paragraph once more, and signed her name with a steady hand.No hesitation. No pause.The chief of staff gathered the papers, nodded once, and smiled. “We’re glad to have you fully on board,” he said, already rising from his chair. “This project will need continuity.”Clarissa returned the smile, professional and composed. “I’m aware,” she replied.When the door closed behind him, the room fell quiet. Clarissa remained seated for a moment longer, hands folded loosely on the table. She didn't feel relief in the dramatic sense people talked about. What she felt was clarity. The kind that arrived not with fireworks, but with stillness.She stood, collected her bag, and stepped back into the corridor where aides moved briskly between off
Chapter 183: What Was Never Said
The breakout room assignment appeared on the screen with no warning and no room for negotiation.Michael glanced at the list briefly as delegates dispersed into smaller groups, each assigned a specific focus area. Strategy alignment. Long-term viability. Risk mitigation. When his eyes moved down the column and landed on the names attached to his room, he did not react outwardly. He simply noted it, the same way he noted everything else that day, with a disciplined calm that had become second nature.Sophia noticed at the same time.For a fleeting second, her step slowed as she read the assignment on her tablet. Michael Ainsley. Strategy Room C. She inhaled quietly and continued walking, refusing to allow the coincidence to rattle her. This was not a trap. It was not intentional. It was logistics. She reminded herself of that as she entered the room and took a seat across the long, narrow table.The door closed behind them with a muted click.The room itself was unremarkable. Neut
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