Chapter 147: A Change of Fate
Harry felt utterly trapped.
He couldn’t escape now. Alaric was carrying him in his arms, and Harry—who had always prided himself on his independence—felt more embarrassed than ever. Being held by Alaric in public, as a six-year-old boy, was mortifying.
But the embarrassment didn’t matter anymore. The DNA results were about to be revealed, and Harry’s thoughts were consumed by the consequences.
“Caspian,” Cormac called out, rushing over when he saw Harry in Alaric’s arms. “What happened? Did he break a bone from the fall? That’s not normal. Falling is one thing, but breaking a bone?”
“Some people can choke on water and die, and I’m just unlucky,” Harry muttered, avoiding eye contact with Cormac. He couldn’t bring himself to admit he had fallen off the wall while trying to escape. That would be even more humiliating.
As Harry spoke, his eyes flicked toward the paper in Cormac’s hand. The DNA results.
His stomach tightened. Harry could barely swallow. He had to buy more time.
“Uncle Cormac, I feel so unlucky… and in pain,” Harry groaned, trying to sound pitiful.
The word “uncle” made Cormac smile warmly, but Harry didn’t notice. “Do you still want to call me uncle?” Cormac asked, his tone soft.
It was a surprise to Harry. Cormac wasn’t really his uncle, and they had no blood relation at all. Still, Harry smiled faintly.
“Of course, Uncle Cormac. I like you, even though I don’t like Orion and Griffon,” Harry added, his words surprising Cormac.
Cormac’s face softened. “Caspian, you really know how to touch my heart. I’ll be your uncle forever, and I’ll always take care of you.”
Moved by Harry’s words, Cormac gently took Harry from Alaric’s arms. Meanwhile, Alaric held the DNA results, but didn’t seem eager to open them.
Harry tried to peer at the paper, but he couldn’t get a good look. He was dying to know, yet afraid to see the truth. What if it was exactly what he feared?
“Do you really not want to open it?” Cormac asked, sensing Alaric’s hesitation.
“No need,” Alaric said, his voice firm. “I’ll show these results directly to Mrs. Marigold.”
Harry shifted in Cormac’s arms, hoping to get a glimpse of the results, but the angle was wrong. He couldn’t see a thing.
“Caspian’s got a broken bone. He needs to rest and avoid moving around,” Cormac said to Alaric, his voice full of concern.
“Understood,” Alaric nodded, then turned to Harry. “I was planning to take you to see Galatea and have a meal together, but I guess that’ll have to wait now.”
“It’s just an accident,” Harry said, trying to keep his voice light, though his focus was entirely on the paper Alaric was holding.
Later, Cormac carried Harry to the car, where Harry had to lie on his stomach in the back seat due to the pain in his rear.
At six years old, Harry had never felt so helpless.
“After you get Caspian home, make sure he stays in bed and doesn’t move around too much. We don’t want any complications,” Cormac advised Alaric.
“I know,” Alaric replied, sliding into the driver’s seat. The car engine roared to life, and they headed back to the Knight family villa. Harry lay in the back seat, staring at the paper in Alaric’s pocket, his mind racing.
The temptation to grab the results from Alaric’s pocket was unbearable, but the pain in his backside made movement almost impossible. Every shift brought a sharp sting.
“Ouch,” he winced.
“Don’t move,” Alaric cautioned, his tone calm but firm.
“I got it,” Harry muttered, resigned. There was nothing he could do but wait.
“Dad, are you sure you don’t want to open the DNA results?” Harry asked, his voice tinged with anxiety. “What if it’s not what you think?”
Alaric smiled, his gaze still focused on the road. “Caspian, why are you so nervous? Are you worried you’re not my son?”
Harry felt his heart sink. He wanted to cry but held it back.
“Are you going to show these results directly to Mrs. Marigold?” Harry asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
“Yes,” Alaric replied, still keeping his cool.
“But what if it shows we’re not father and son? Do you think Mrs. Marigold will blame you or me?” Harry’s voice trembled. His biggest fear wasn’t Alaric’s reaction, but Mrs. Marigold’s.
Alaric laughed softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Don’t worry. No one dares hurt you with me around.”
Harry fell silent. He couldn’t shake the feeling that no matter how Alaric reacted, things were about to change drastically.
When they arrived back at the Knight family villa, Alaric carefully carried Harry inside, straight to his bedroom. Lying face down on the bed, Harry could only lie there helplessly.
“Aunt Lindsay, take good care of Caspian,” Alaric said, his tone serious.
“Yes, Mr. Alaric,” Aunt Lindsay replied, bowing slightly.
Alaric had already arranged for a personal doctor, a nutritionist, and a kitchen staff to attend to Harry, so there shouldn’t be any complications from the injury.
“I’ll be back soon. Stay in bed and rest,” Alaric said before leaving, his footsteps fading as Harry was left to contemplate his fate.
In the meantime, Mrs. Marigold was in a foul mood when Alaric entered her study. Her expression was dark, and she wasn’t in the mood for small talk.
Alaric, sensing the tension, didn’t waste any time. “This is the DNA result between me and Caspian,” he said, handing her the paper. But Mrs. Marigold didn’t even reach for it. Joe, who had been standing nearby, quickly grabbed it instead.
“You two aren’t father and son, are you?” Mrs. Marigold asked, already assuming she knew the answer.
“The result is right here, Mrs. Marigold. Are you still in denial?” Alaric replied, his voice calm but firm.
Joe opened the result, and after reading it, his face went pale. He quickly handed the paper to Mrs. Marigold. “This DNA result shows they are indeed related!” he said, panic in his voice.
“What?” Mrs. Marigold couldn’t believe it. She snatched the paper from Joe and read it herself, rubbing her eyes in disbelief. “This can’t be.”
The DNA test from six years ago had shown no relation between them. How could it be different now?
“The truth is right in front of you,” Alaric said. “Caspian is your grandson. I don’t expect you to treat him well, but I just hope you won’t hurt him anymore.”
With that, Alaric turned on his heel and left the room, leaving Mrs. Marigold standing there, trembling with the DNA results in her hands.
“How could this happen?” Mrs. Marigold muttered to herself, staring at the paper in shock. She turned to Joe. “Why is the result different from the DNA test six years ago?”