“Resolve it? How exactly?”

Isabella Scott’s grandmother sat across from two uninvited women in the quiet living room of Hawthorne Residence.

Eleanor Vance had been knitting a small sweater for her great-grandson when the doorbell shattered the afternoon’s peace.

Now, she faced Victoria Blackwood and Sophia Reed.

Victoria’s expression was icy. Sophia’s was falsely sympathetic.

“Your granddaughter,” Victoria stated, her voice sharp with disdain, “has no shame.”

Eleanor’s hands stilled. “Excuse me? What about Isabella?”

“She betrayed my son,” Victoria snapped. “She had another man’s child and now expects Ethan to raise it.”

The words hit Eleanor like a physical blow. She shook her head, confused. “That’s impossible. Isabella would never…”

Sophia cut in smoothly, her tone dripping with fake concern. “I’m afraid it’s true. The boy isn’t Ethan’s. We have proof.”

Eleanor’s world tilted. Her sweet Isabella? A cheat? The mother of a… bastard?

She clutched the knitting needles tighter, her knuckles turning white.

“She lives here under your roof,” Victoria continued, sweeping a contemptuous gaze around the room. “Does her audacity know no bounds?”

Eleanor’s mind raced. She thought of Liam’s bright eyes, his resemblance to…

No. It couldn’t be.

“You’re mistaken,” Eleanor insisted, though doubt began to creep in. “There must be some error.”

“Error?” Victoria laughed, a harsh, bitter sound. “The only error was my son ever marrying her.”

Sophia placed a hand on Victoria’s arm, a gesture meant to calm, but her eyes gleamed with triumph. “Perhaps we should go. This is clearly a shock.”

“A shock she needs to process,” Victoria agreed, standing. “Tell your granddaughter her time in this house is over. She and that child are no longer welcome in the Blackwood family.”

They turned to leave, their heels clicking on the polished floor.

Eleanor remained seated, the half-finished sweater a tangled mess in her lap.

The front door closed with a definitive click.

Silence descended once more, but it was no longer peaceful.

It was heavy with the weight of a shattered illusion.