Chapter 276
“Do you reckon she’s gonna end up waiting on the old man hand and foot?”
Just the thought of delicate Greta having to cater to Patrick’s every whim tugged at Miranda’s heart. “Cameron loves her too much to let her do all that dirty, exhausting stuff.”
“But what if Cameron’s hit rock bottom and can’t afford to hire someone to look after Patrick?” Nathalie wondered aloud.
Miranda’s face fell at that. She insisted on going back, “This place is way too posh for me. I’m just a simple old lady. Please, let me go back.”
Nathalie didn’t budge.
Lizzy had had enough of Miranda’s whining. With a mischievous grin, she pinched Miranda’s chin and teased, “Oh, you old gal. I oughta dig out that twisted heart of yours and see what’s inside. You’ve got two daughters, and here Nathalie treats you like royalty, while Greta
ist uses you like a handy tool. Yet, you still wanna go back and help her?”
Miranda’s eyes flickered with guilt.
Lizzy caught that flicker and muttered, “Could it be that Nathalie isn’t really your biological daughter?”
Miranda jumped like she’d been stung, trembling with panic written all over her face. “Nonsense, they’re both my daughters.”
Her reaction only made Lizzy more suspicious.
Miranda tried to cover up, but it was weak. “Greta’s always been frail. It’s only natural that I worry about her more. Nathalie’s strong; she doesn’t need my fussing.”
Lizzy glared at her incredulously. “Never seen a mom play favorites like that.”
Nathalie sat in a rocking chair, her eyes closed, lost in thought. Lizzy’s words made her doubt her own identity even more.
“Lizzy.”
“Yeah, Nathalie?” Lizzy moved closer to Nathalie.
Out of the blue, Nathalie grabbed a handful of her hair and yanked hard, handing over several strands, follicles and all. “Help me get a DNA test done with these.”
“Sure thing, Nathalie,” Lizzy nodded.
Miranda’s face stayed neutral.
Nathalie added, “Try to snag some of my dad’s hair, too, and check mine against his as well.”
Miranda panicked right away. “What’s with all that trouble? If you’re testing mine, why bother with his? Don’t you think you’re just burning money?”
Nathalie sat up straight, fixing Miranda with a steely gaze. “I’ve thought about it. I might be your daughter, but maybe not his. Otherwise, why would he dote on Greta and not care about me?”
Miranda was flustered. Finally, she burst out, “You guessed it.”
She paused, then admitted in a defeated tone, “You’re right; you’re not his daughter.”
Nathalie’s world cracked open, piece by piece, as she recalled the humiliation of trying to win Patrick’s approval, only to be mocked and taunted. Her pride shattered, making her almost obsessively believe she was inherently unworthy of a father’s love.
However, the naked truth was absurd. It turned out that Patrick wasn’t her father at all.
How ridiculous. She had been wrong from the start.
Nathalie erupted, yelling hysterically, “If he’s not my real dad, what right does he have to guilt–trip me into doing things for him as his daughter? What right does he have to boss me around? On what grounds?”
Miranda was terrified by her outburst. She shrank back in her wheelchair, looking like she wished she could vanish into thin air. Nathalie finally broke down. She clutched her head and cried her heart out.
