Andrew approached the polished wooden door of Henry's office and knocked firmly. Inside, Henry sat behind a massive oak desk cluttered with papers and files, his expression one of focus until the sound broke his concentration. Without glancing up, he called out, "Come in."
The door opened, and Henry lifted his gaze to see Andrew standing there. His demeanor immediately hardened. Andrew's presence was unwelcome, and his expression reflected it.
"What are you doing here?" Henry asked, his voice cold. "Claire just left, and now you show up. What do you want?"
Andrew stepped into the office, his face devoid of the usual smirk that often accompanied his visits. Today, his demeanor was serious—he wasn't here to play games.
"I don't care why Claire was here," Andrew said flatly. "I came to talk to you, man to man. This is about my kids."
Henry's jaw tightened. "Talk about what exactly?"
Andrew leaned forward slightly, his tone steady but firm. "I want us to make peace. I just want you to give me my kids back. They shouldn't be a burden on you. You and Chantel can live a happy life without them. I promise I'll take full responsibility."
Henry's eyes narrowed. "Vincent and Vivian are my kids, Andrew. They are not, and never will be, a burden to me."
Andrew's calm facade began to crack. "Don't act stubborn, Henry. You'll regret it if you do."
Henry leaned back in his chair, a wry smile playing on his lips. "Is that a threat?"
Andrew's voice grew sharper. "It's not a threat—it's a promise. If you don't hand over my kids, I'll make sure the world knows the truth about you and why you don't deserve to have any rights over them."
Henry stood, his temper rising. "Stop calling them your kids. They're mine now. You have no right to them."
Andrew's fury erupted. "They are *my* kids!" he yelled, slamming his fist on the desk. "You think you can just take them away from me?"
Henry reached for his office phone and pressed a button. "Security, come to my office immediately. Get this man out."
Moments later, two burly security guards entered the office and grabbed Andrew by the arms. Despite his protests, they escorted him out of the building. Henry sank back into his chair, exhaling sharply. His patience was wearing thin—not just with Andrew, but with the chaos Claire had already stirred earlier. He made a mental note to leave work early that day.
---
Meanwhile, at Henry's home, Chantel was preparing to go shopping for the kids. Dressed stylishly, she stepped outside just as Claire's car pulled up in front of the gate. Chantel's eyes narrowed as she watched Claire exit the vehicle and approach. Sensing an opportunity, Chantel quickly took out her cellphone, switched on the recording function, and slipped it back into her handbag.
As Claire approached the gate, Chantel moved to intercept her, standing confidently between her and the entrance. "What are you doing here, Claire?" she asked coolly.
Claire scoffed, glaring at her. "You've really grown wings, haven't you? No respect. You have the nerve to address me by my name. Don't forget I helped you when you were nothing."
Chantel smirked. "And you think I should still call you 'Ma'am Claire' after everything? After I found out you're my half-sister? After I learned the truth about you and Andrew? You drugged me and let him—" Her voice broke slightly but quickly regained its edge. "You two are monsters, and I swear you'll pay for what you did."
Claire's face darkened with fury. "I don't regret anything I did, Chantel. Not a single thing. And for the record, Vincent and Vivian are *my* children. I'm here to take back what's mine, including Henry."
Chantel's smile widened. "Your children? Last I checked, you're barren. A barren woman like you could never be the mother of *my* kids."
Claire's face flushed red with anger. "Take that back," she hissed.
"Why should I?" Chantel challenged. "Does the truth bother you? Does it hurt to hear it out loud? You deserve it, Claire. You and your mother never gave me peace or a chance at a good life. Now it's your turn to face the consequences."
Claire's voice rose as her anger boiled over. "You'll regret this, Chantel. I promise you. I know you've poisoned Henry against me, but I'll take back everything that's mine."
Chantel's smirk didn't waver. "You'll take back nothing, Claire. In fact, I've got all the evidence I need now." She patted her handbag. "We'll see each other in court soon. Now, get off my property before I call security."
Claire's fists clenched at her sides, but she knew she couldn't do anything with the gate separating them. "You'll regret this," she snarled before storming back to her car.
As her driver pulled away, Chantel pulled out her cellphone and replayed the recording, her smile growing with satisfaction. Claire had admitted everything. This was the evidence Chantel needed to expose the truth and protect her children.
"Now," she murmured to herself, "I just need something from Andrew, and it'll all be over."
---
In the car, Claire seethed with rage. Her plan to confront Chantel had backfired spectacularly. As she fumed, her phone buzzed with a notification. An email from her lawyer confirmed that the divorce papers were ready. She barked an order at her driver, "Turn around. We're going to the lawyer's office."
The driver obeyed, and Claire sat back, her mind racing. She wasn't ready to give up—not on her marriage, not on the children, and certainly not on Henry.
Sharon stood in the spacious, elegantly furnished living room of Andrew's house, sipping a steaming cup of coffee. The morning light streamed through the large windows, but Sharon's attention was on her cellphone, which buzzed loudly on the coffee table. She picked it up, glanced at the screen, and her brow furrowed. The message was from Jake. A sinking feeling overtook her as she read the text:
**"I need one million dollars urgently. You better get it for me soon."**
Sharon's grip tightened on the phone, her fingers trembling slightly. "One million dollars?" she muttered to herself. "Is this some kind of joke?"
Fuming, she immediately dialed Jake's number. The phone rang only twice before he picked up, his tone casual and nonchalant. "I'm guessing you got my message," Jake said without preamble.
"I did," Sharon snapped. "How do you expect me to get that kind of money? One million dollars isn't pocket change, Jake!"
Jake chuckled darkly. "Your boss has the money, doesn't he? Figure it out. I need the money in 48 hours, Sharon. Don't waste my time."
"Forty-eight hours?" Sharon's voice rose. "Do you think I can just snap my fingers and make that kind of money appear? This is insane!"
"I don't care how you get it," Jake interrupted coldly. "Just get it. I'll be waiting." With that, he ended the call, leaving Sharon staring at her phone in disbelief.
She paced the living room, her mind racing. Anxiety clawed at her as she considered her options. There was no way she could ask Andrew outright; he would undoubtedly want to know what she needed the money for. And in his current state—angry and stressed—it wasn't the right time to approach him. She had to come up with a plan, something that would make Andrew sympathetic enough to help her without asking too many questions.
Her thoughts were interrupted as Andrew entered the house, slamming the door shut behind him. His face was taut with anger, his movements rigid. Sharon quickly put her coffee cup down and approached him, trying to appear calm despite her own turmoil.
"What happened?" she asked gently, following him as he headed toward the kitchen. Without waiting for a response, she grabbed a glass from the cabinet and filled it with water, handing it to him.
Andrew took a long sip before setting the glass down with a sharp clink. "I went to Henry's office," he began, his tone laced with bitterness. "I tried to make peace, tried to talk to him man to man. I just wanted my kids back. But do you know what he did? He called security on me and had me thrown out. It was humiliating."
Sharon hesitated, her heart pounding. She wanted to comfort him, but she also needed to broach the topic of the money. Yet, looking at his furious expression, she realized it wasn't the right moment. She bit her lip, deciding to wait.
Andrew noticed her silence and frowned. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice softening slightly. "You seem... distracted."
Sharon snapped out of her thoughts and forced a smile. "I'm fine," she said quickly. "I was just thinking... maybe you should let go of this whole thing with the kids. Focus on us instead. I can give you children, Andrew. I'm not barren like your ex-wife."
The words were barely out of her mouth when Andrew's expression darkened. "Don't you dare bring that up," he snapped, his voice rising. "Do you think I can just forget about my own flesh and blood? They're my children, Sharon. My children! I won't abandon them, no matter what."
Sharon flinched, realizing she had made a mistake. She nodded quickly, murmuring, "I'm sorry." But in her mind, she scolded herself: **This isn't the right time. I'll have to wait.**
---
At Henry's house, he returned home looking visibly drained. Chantel, hearing the door open, rushed downstairs to greet him. "Babe! You look so tired," she said, concern etched on her face.
Henry sighed, sinking into the couch. "It's been a long day. Claire and Andrew were both at my office, stirring up trouble."
Chantel's eyes widened. "Claire was at your office?"
Henry nodded. "Yes, and Andrew too."
"What did Andrew want this time? Was he trying to convince you to drop the charges?" Chantel asked.
Henry shook his head. "No, he's determined to get the kids back. He begged, but I wasn't having it. I had security escort him out."
Chantel nodded approvingly. "You did the right thing. And Claire? What did she want?"
"She was trying to mend things between us, said she wanted to be friends again. I told her to leave before she caused a scene."
Chantel's face lit up. "I have some good news, by the way."
Henry leaned forward slightly. "What is it?"
She pulled out her phone and played the recording she had taken earlier of Claire admitting to her wrongdoings. Henry listened intently, his expression shifting from curiosity to satisfaction as Chantel stopped the playback.
"This is incredible," he said. "How did you get her to admit all of that?"
"She came here earlier, and I made her spill the truth without even realizing it. This is solid evidence, Henry. With this, we can make sure she and Andrew pay for what they've done. But I still need more evidence—this time, from Andrew himself."
Henry frowned. "How are you planning to get that?"
"I'll meet with him," Chantel said confidently.
"That's dangerous," Henry warned. "Be careful."
"I will," Chantel assured him, a determined smile on her face.
---
Later that evening, Claire returned home, clutching the divorce papers she had picked up from her lawyer. She entered Andrew's house without knocking, not expecting Sharon to be there. But as she stepped into the living room, she froze. There, on the couch, were Andrew and Sharon, locked in a passionate kiss.
Claire's heart sank, her face pale with hurt and anger. Sharon noticed her first and quickly stood up, straightening her dress. Andrew followed suit, glaring at Claire.
"What are you doing here?" Andrew demanded. "And why didn't you knock?"
Claire's voice trembled with rage. "Not even 48 hours have passed, and this is what you're doing? Bringing this trash into our home?"
Andrew sneered. "Well, maybe if you knocked, you wouldn't have to see things you don't like. And let me remind you—this isn't *your* home anymore."
Sharon smirked. "Now you know who's taken your place, Claire."
Furious, Claire stepped forward, raising her hand as if to slap Sharon, but Andrew caught her wrist. "Don't you dare," he warned, his voice cold.
Claire glared at Sharon. "You're nothing but a secretary. Stay in your lane, or you'll regret it."
Sharon laughed mockingly. "A barren woman like you shouldn't be giving advice."
The word struck Claire like a physical blow. Tears welled up in her eyes. "Take that back," she said shakily. "Did you just call me barren?"
"Are you not?" Sharon retorted. "Everyone knows you are."
Andrew, clearly fed up, barked, "Enough! Claire, stop being dramatic."
Claire's hands trembled as she pulled out the divorce papers and threw them onto the coffee table. "These are the divorce papers," she said. "We're finalizing this tomorrow. Make sure your lawyer is present." She turned to Sharon. "And as for you, you'll regret everything you've said."
She stormed out, slamming the door behind her.
---
Back at her mother's house, Claire collapsed onto the couch, sobbing. Her mother entered the room, alarmed. "What's wrong?" she asked.
Through her tears, Claire choked out, "Three people called me barren today—Andrew, Chantel, and that witch Sharon. I'll make sure they regret it."
Her mother sat beside her, stroking her back. "What are you going to do?"
Claire wiped her tears. "Tomorrow, Andrew and I will finalize the divorce. After that, I'll make my move." She stood and retreated to her room, leaving her mother to worry about what would come next.