Godmother To His Son Then I Took His Kingdom Chapter 22
Three days later, I walked into Boston Family Court.
Mrs. Whitmore was already seated in the conference room.
A year had passed, and her hair was now more silver than black. Her suit was still perfectly tailored. The moment she saw me, her eyes flicked to my lawyer before she spoke.
“So you finally decided to come back.”
“I didn’t come back for you.”
“You took all of Graham’s estate, and now you refuse to care for the child he raised.” Her voice sharpened. “Mara, you claim you never wanted Whitmore money, but what, exactly, do you call this?”
Reporters were clustered outside the conference room door.
She had deliberately left it ajar.
I didn’t argue. I simply took three documents from my lawyer and laid them on the table, one by one.
The first was the DNA report excluding Graham as Leo’s biological father.
The second was the probated will.
The third was a copy of the letter from my lawyer documenting my refusal of the Back Bay property, the family trust, and the anonymous donations.
“What I inherited was Graham’s personal estate, disposed of lawfully. That money now belongs to a legal aid foundation established in my parents’ names. Not one dollar of it is going back into your hands.”
Her face turned ashen.
“Without the Whitmore family, where would he have gotten any personal wealth?”
“That’s between you and your son. Not me.”
I pushed the guardianship file toward her.
“As for Leo, the designation came from Evelyn as part of a fraudulent scheme. You knew the truth and still let Graham pay for that child’s life for eight years. You’re only remembering he’s a child now that it’s convenient.”
Outside the room, camera shutters clicked furiously.
Mrs. Whitmore shot to her feet and reached for the door.
“This is a private family matter. Who allowed the press in here?”
“The press came with you,” I said evenly. “You wanted to pressure me into accepting Leo in front of the cameras, forcing me to give up any claim to Graham’s estate in the process. Unfortunately for you, you picked the wrong person.”
Her hand froze on the doorknob.
At that moment, the court-appointed child advocate entered.
“Ms. Reyes, Leo is here. He is refusing to see anyone from the Whitmore or Cabot families. He will only see you.”
I stood.
Behind me, Mrs. Whitmore let out a cold, mocking laugh.
“Don’t pretend to be so noble. If you truly cared about that child, you’d take him home.”
I turned back to look at her.
“Caring for a child doesn’t mean taking him into your house and teaching him what he owes you.”
“It means listening to him when he speaks.”