Westley You Are Late Chapter 29
The night the project contract was signed, a representative from the Ferraro family was in attendance.
Westley’s father came over personally to congratulate me.
Westley was nowhere to be seen.
His father mentioned that Westley was no longer handling the group’s core business operations.
“He’s caused too much trouble lately. He needs some time to reflect.”
I nodded but said nothing.
Not far away, an argument broke out.
Sofia came rushing in with the baby, Leo chasing after her.
She clearly hadn’t expected to see me there; her steps faltered for a moment.
Then she squared her shoulders and marched toward Westley’s father.
“You can’t just wash your hands of me like this.”
Leo grabbed her arm.
“The report was clear. The child is mine.”
Sofia shook him off.
“And can you afford to raise him?”
Leo’s face flushed a deep red.
People were starting to stare.
He lowered his voice.
“You told me that no matter whose baby it was, you wanted to be with me.”
Sofia let out a cold, sharp laugh.
“If you were the Ferraro heir, of course I would.”
The words were like a slap across the face.
Leo stood there for a few seconds, stunned, then suddenly laughed.
“So you were never with Westley because you actually liked him.”
Sofia’s expression soured.
“What are you talking about?”
“You said it yourself,” Leo shot back, pointing at the baby. “You knew there was a chance he was mine, and you still took him to the Ferraros to claim another man was his father.”
Sofia scrambled to cover his mouth.
The two of them began to struggle, and the baby, frightened by the commotion, started to wail.
In the end, hotel security had to separate them.
Westley’s father had watched the entire spectacle, his expression growing darker by the second.
His only comment was, “See to it that neither of these two is ever allowed at a Ferraro event again.”
As Sofia was being led away, she suddenly turned and looked at me.
“Are you happy now, Brielle?”
I set down my champagne flute.
“The DNA report told you who your child’s father is.”
“You didn’t get the project because not a single word of it was yours.”
She opened her mouth to argue.
I met her gaze.
“None of this was my doing.”
In the end, she couldn’t say a word.