Chapter 396

Rosalind’s face paled.

Chloe didn’t care about her reaction anymore.

Theodore’s expression darkened as he turned to Rosalind. "What is she talking about? Do you know something?"

Rosalind forced a smile, her voice trembling slightly. "Chloe, who told you these lies? I have no idea what you’re referring to!"

"Still pretending?" Chloe’s voice was icy. "The man confessed before he died. Winifred and the Whitmores—you killed them!"

Theodore’s grip on his cane tightened, his knuckles turning white.

Rosalind’s eyes flashed with panic. "That’s absurd! Why would I harm Winifred? You’re accusing me without proof!"

"If that’s a baseless accusation," Chloe countered coldly, "then what about the car accident that nearly killed Nathan? Was that also a coincidence?"

Rosalind stiffened.

"Shane was your man," Chloe pressed. "He acted on your orders, didn’t he?"

Rosalind clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms. "Shane acted alone! I had no part in it!"

Chloe scoffed. "Convenient, isn’t it? Now that Shane’s dead, you can blame everything on him."

Theodore’s voice was sharp. "Shane is dead?"

Rosalind spun toward him, her eyes wide. "Grandfather, I swear I didn’t know! He was alive just days ago!"

Chloe’s lips curled into a bitter smile. "He went to kill Instructor Lancaster, but his car exploded during his escape. How very convenient."

Rosalind’s breath hitched. "That has nothing to do with me!"

"Then where’s your proof?" Chloe demanded. "Or are we just supposed to take your word for it?"

Before Rosalind could respond, a deep voice cut through the tension.

"The proof is right here."

Nathan’s father, Nicholas Goldmann, strode into the room, his golden cane tapping against the marble floor. Harrison followed closely behind, carrying a sleek laptop.

Theodore stood abruptly. "Nicholas?"

Rosalind’s face drained of color.

Nicholas didn’t spare her a glance. "Father, if sentiment blinds you to the truth, then as your son, I must intervene."

He took a seat, his gaze settling on Rosalind like a blade. "The Goldmanns raised you. We gave you everything. And yet, you dared to target my son and grandchildren."

Rosalind stepped forward, desperation lacing her voice. "Sir, I would never—"

Nicholas raised a hand, silencing her. "Save your excuses."

He nodded at Harrison, who opened the laptop. A video began to play—the dying confession of Shane, implicating Rosalind in every crime.

Theodore’s expression turned stormy.

Rosalind shook her head violently. "No! Shane framed me! He wanted to drag me down with him!"

Nicholas’s voice was glacial. "Enough lies."

Rosalind’s knees nearly buckled.

The game was over.