Chapter 3 Cheated On!

Evelyn sat on the hospital bench waiting for the DNA result. Her heart was beating erratically and within her, she hoped Logan Dawson had lied. She'd give anything to be a Dawson. Not because of the wealth and power, but for the sake of the man who had raised her from infanthood until moments ago.

Chairman Dawson was the only family she knew. His children and other grandchildren had never accepted her as part of them.

Growing up, Evelyn thought it was because her parents had met a disastrous end after she came into the world–her mother dying a few minutes after her birth and her father on his way back home with her. That was what her grandfather had told her. She used to think she was a cursed child whose birth had claimed the lives of her parents. She believed it was the reason the others despised her and never fully accepted her.

But...it turns out she wasn't one of them. Their gut feeling could never just accept her. After all, they say you can't deceive blood.

Now that Evelyn thought back to her pàst, the story her grandfather had told. Was it a lie? If yes, then why did he feel he had to lie.

After reminiscing on her life. She sighed heavily. She felt empty. The kind of emptiness that came with loneliness.

She heard a sound, the door beside her opened and the doctor walked out.

"Ms. Dawson." He said.

Evelyn rose from the bench. She felt exhausted. "Just call me Evelyn."

The doctor nodded. "The result is ready. Will you like me to explain it to you?"

"No!" she said. "I'll go through it myself." To her that piece of paper wasn't just a medical report. To her, that piece of paper held the truth about her identity. She wanted to take her time reviewing it.

"Okay!" The doctor handed a sealed envelope to her and walked away.

Evelyn took it and left the building. She drove a little further from the hospital and parked somewhere quiet. Then she tore the envelope, her fingers trembling nervously.

She had always been the type to face situations head on, never shying away from challenges. That was how she had driven Dawson Groups to a global height. She had never had nervous moments nor experienced trembling fingers even when she stood in front of thousands in numerous business conferences. Yet, today, for something so trivial, her hands trembled.

She swallowed hard. Preparing herself mentally before unfolding the paper. She stared at that one sentence.

Probability of Paternity: 0%

Her world seemed to stop for a moment.

She stared at the result, unmoving. Indeed she wasn't a Dawson. Logan Dawson had said it, so why did it still slice through her? Why was her heart squeezing this way?

Evelyn stayed still for a while and in the end, she smiled, tore the DNA result and threw it into the wastebasket in her car. She had never been one to cry or throw tantrums when things didn't go her way. So she just smiled. After all, if she chooses to throw a fit, who would listen?

She drove home. The day had been the most eventful in her twenty five years on earth. Her heart was full but she held all her tears back. At this moment, all she wanted to do was turn the lights off and sleep hoping that by the time she woke up the next morning, this would all be a dream.

Driving into the yard, she parked her car and got down. She walked to the front door and realized it was open.

Confused, she pushed the door open and walked in. There in her parlour sat the members of the Dawson family. Her two uncles and aunts, their spouses and some of their kids. Then at the extreme sat Mr. Song, her Grandfather's lawyer.

What were they doing in her house?

Everyone saw her but ignored her.

"You're here!" She heard someone say. "Mr. Song is going to read Grandpa's will." she turned to see a handsome face smiling at her. The person was Zed, Logan Dawson's son. Aside from her grandfather, he was the only member of the family who truly treated her like she existed.

Evelyn brows furrowed. Her Grandfather just died. Shouldn't they be mourning him? How were they reading his will already?

Mr. Song adjusted his glasses and opened the brown folder in his hand.

"This is the notarized last will and testament of the late Chairman Hartford Dawson, dated three months ago."

Evelyn remained standing near the doorway, her eyes scanning the room. No one glanced her way. No one asked her to sit. It was as though she wasn't in the room.

Mr. Song cleared his throat and began.

"To my first son, Logan Dawson, I leave the entirety of our residential estate in S country, along with the company and all its branches."

Evelyn turned to her uncle. For someone so greedy, he didn't react. As though he already knew he'd get that much.

"To my second son, Marcus Dawson, I bequeath all overseas real estate holdings-including the high-rise in Midtown Manhattan and the Chateau in France."

A soft gasp came from Marcus's wife. She quickly covered her mouth, but her delight showed in her gleaming eyes.

Evelyn's fingers curled into her palm.

"To my first daughter, Clara Dawson, I leave full ownership of Dawson Pharmaceuticals and the shares tied to its name."

Clara Dawson frowned. But she said nothing.

Evelyn's eyes didn't move. She stood still as stone, her heart thudding slowly in her chest.

"And finally," Mr. Song flipped the page, his tone unchanging, "all remaining shares of Dawson Groups amounting to 41% of total holdings will be divided equally among my three children."

Murmurs of satisfaction followed suite.

Evelyn listened to it like she was listening to strangers laughing at a funeral.

Mr. Song paused.

Not a mention of her.

He turned another page.

"To my grandchildren. Each will receive a trust fund and ownership of a select regional office within our holdings. A detailed allocation will follow separately."

Another pause.

Still nothing.

Evelyn's voice finally came, quiet but cutting.

"And me?" she asked.

The room stilled. Everyone looked at Mr. Song.

Mr. Song hesitated only briefly.

"There is no mention of you in the will, Evelyn."

The words dropped like iron on a marble floor.

Evelyn gave a soft, humorless laugh. "Not even a thank you?"

The room remained quiet.

"I managed this company when all of you refused to," she said, her voice steady but icy. "I carried Grandpa's vision on my back and broke myself to put Dawson Groups where it is."

"You were a helper," Clara Dawson muttered. "Our father took you in. Fed you. Raised you. That should've been enough."

Fed me... like a pet? Evelyn thought. Her gaze shifted from one face to another. So this was how easily they dismissed her.

"You were never really one of us." Clara Dawson continued. "It's time to move on."

Evelyn's head tilted slightly.

"Move on?" she echoed.

Marcus Dawson stood, clasping his hands in mock diplomacy.

"This is over, Evelyn. My father's will is final. Mr. Song can confirm that it was signed, sealed, and witnessed properly. If you're thinking of contesting-don't. You have no legal claim."

Evelyn looked briefly at Mr. Song. He looked away.

Marcus walked forward and stopped a few steps away. "You have no blood ties to this family. You're not a Dawson. You're nothing."

Evelyn felt the chill in his words.

But still... she did not break.

Instead, she smiled.

It was small at first. Then it grew into something cold, sharp, and haunting.

"Thank you," she said.

Marcus blinked. "For what?"

"For finally confirming what I've always suspected. None of you ever saw me as family."

She turned toward Mr. Song.

"And thank you, Mr. Song, for reading the will."

Mr Song avoided her eyes.

She took one final glance around the room, letting her eyes burn each of their faces into memory.

She had devoted her entire life to Dawson Groups. She had eaten, breathed, and bled for that company. For her grandfather. For a family that never truly saw her. And they had the nerve to sit in her living room like this?

She lifted her chin and narrowed her gaze.

"This house," she said, voice low but firm, "was given to me by Grandpa. I've lived here for five years. This is my home."

Clara Dawson scoffed. "No deed was ever filed in your name. It was owned by the company."

"Which I ran," she snapped. "I was president."

"Weren't you relinquished of that position?" someone asked.

Evely fingers clenched so tight her knuckles were paling.

"You think you're entitled to stay here after everything?" Clara Dawson said. "Get a grip, Evelyn. You were a charity case. We tolerated you for Father's sake. Now that he's gone. So are your privileges."

Evelyn laughed bitterly. "So you all came here today not just to strip me of the company, but to rip the roof from over my head too?"

"Why leave a Dawson property to someone who isn't family? Dawson family doesn't run a charity home."

"You have one hour to leave," Logan said, checking his watch. "We have people who can help speed up the process if you need encouragement."

Evelyn blinked. "You're throwing me out? Today?"

Logan's expression hardened. "Now."

Two of the household staff who had been standing silently by the side looked at her, unsure what to do. Evelyn caught their hesitation. They had always respected her. Served her faithfully.

Her stomach twisted.

"I packed your things," said one of the maids finally, her voice barely above a whisper. "They're in the foyer."

Evelyn's lips parted. She didn't even get the dignity of packing her own clothes.

"She isn't allowed to leave with anything." Logan declared.

Evelyn looked at him. Her fists turning paler. Her small face showed no expression but behind that calmness, her anger brewed.

Clara Dawson motioned toward the door. "You can walk out, or we'll make you."

Evelyn's lips twitched and she smiled but her hazel eyes remained cold. She said nothing, only nodding and turning around.

She went down the perron, entered her car and drove out of the yard, driving very fast. She picked her phone and tried to call someone but no one was answering the phone. Her lips were still trembling, but she kept a calm face.

When she arrived in front of a luxurious apartment, she rushed up to the highest floor as quickly as her legs could carry. While waiting to get to the next floor, she nibbled on her lower lip.

The elevator dinged, signalling that she had reached her destination. Evelyn rushed out and ran to the unit in the middle of the long hallway. The only thing she had in mind at that moment was to throw herself in the arms of Henry, her fiance and let out all the tears she had been withholding until now.

She tapped in the password of Henry's apartment and entered. But the moment she closed the door and turned around, she froze at the sight of a pair of pink high heels in the parlor.