A Turning Point

He shoved me outside, and I nursed my wrist, wincing at the sharp pain. The secretary rushed towards him, but Kyle's anger was palpable.

"So you let her in?" Kyle snarled, his eyes flashing with fury.

Before the secretary could respond, Kyle stormed towards me, still wrapped in his towel. His gaze blazed with intensity.

"This is the last time you set foot in this house," he growled. "Else, you'll regret it."

He turned and disappeared inside, leaving me seething. The scene felt like a cliché movie moment ,being thrown out of the house.

The secretary approached me, his expression cautious.

“I think you should leave now." He said 

I glared at the closed door, then at him. 

"Tell him I'll be back."

With that, I turned and left, determined to uncover more about this Kyle Prescott. I knew just the person to help me.

****

"Wait... What?!" Vivian exclaimed, eyes wide with shock. "You're carrying Kyle Prescott's child?"

Her disbelieving gaze locked onto mine, and I sighed, unsure where to begin.

"I thought the video was fake," Vivian muttered, still stunned. "The man in that video... was Kyle?"

I nodded, and Vivian's expression turned urgent. "So, are you ready to tell me everything now."

I hesitated, recalling Amy's confession. 

She had drugged me at the party, orchestrating the events that led to this moment. A chilling thought crept in, had Amy planned this with Kyle?

But Kyle hadn't known I was the woman from that night until I revealed it to him. How did Amy arrange this?

Vivian's concerned voice snapped me back to reality. "Naina, are you okay?"

I took a deep breath. "Vivian, I need your help."

She nodded without hesitation.

After sharing every detail, Vivian agreed to help me. Her knowledge of the Prescott family would prove invaluable. After having a conversation with Vivian and telling her everything, she agreed to help me with my plan.

"You know, Naina, even though Kyle is the heir, his grandmother, Chairwoman Prescott, holds the highest authority in the family," Vivian said. "She's the one person Kyle might actually listen to."

I nodded, determination growing within me.

"Then that's who I need to meet," I said.

Vivian nodded gently. "But the Prescott family is notorious for their ruthlessness." She said and I just managed to smile 

***

As I stepped onto the Manor's grounds, the imposing stone facade loomed before me, its grandeur intimidating. Unlike Kyle's modern mansion, this estate exuded tradition and power.

I took a deep breath, steeling myself for the encounter ahead. Ascending the steps, I reached for the door knocker, but the heavy wooden door swung open, revealing a tall, stern-looking butler.

"May I help you?" he asked, his tone cold and formal.

His skeptical gaze lingered on my disheveled appearance and determined expression.

"What is your business here?" he pressed.

I straightened my back, refusing to be rattled. "I'm here to see Mrs. Prescott."

The butler's eyebrow raised slightly, surprised I knew the matriarch's name.

"And what exactly is the purpose of your visit?" he asked, his tone dripping with skepticism.

I prepared myself for his doubt. "It's personal. I have something important to discuss with her."

The butler's eyes narrowed, gauging my intentions.

"I'm afraid the chairwoman isn't accepting visitors at the moment," he replied stiffly.

Frustration surged within me. I'd come too far to be denied.

"Please," I implored, my voice strained. "It's imperative I speak with her. It's urgent."

The butler remained unmoved.

"I apologize, but my instructions are clear: no visitors."

My frustration boiled over. I took a step closer, meeting his gaze.

"Listen, I've gone through a lot to get here. I need to talk to Mrs. Prescott, and I won't leave until I do."

The butler's expression softened slightly.

"I'm afraid she has specifically requested no visitors today, ma'am," he reiterated. "I cannot go against her wishes."

Desperation crept in. I couldn't give up now.

"Is there anything I can do to convince you to let me speak with her? Something I can tell her?"

I held my breath as the butler pondered my request. His lips were pursed, and his expression unreadable.

"Please," I silently pleaded, "just let me see her."

Finally, he spoke. "I'll ask her if she's willing to see you. But I make no promises."

My heart pounded in anticipation. This was my chance.

"Thank you," I replied, gratitude lacing my voice.

The butler studied me a moment longer before nodding. "Wait here."

The door closed, and I was left alone on the doorstep. The silence stretched out, each passing moment feeling like an eternity.

My mind wandered, imagining the worst. What if Mrs. Prescott refused to see me? What if she didn't believe me?

But I pushed those thoughts aside. I had come too far.

After what felt like an eternity, the door swung open again. The butler's expression was stoic.

"She will see you in the garden," he informed me. "But she is not pleased."

I let out a sigh of relief, feeling a glimmer of hope.

"Thank you," I said, steeling myself for the encounter. "I understand."

The butler stepped aside, gesturing for me to enter. I took a deep breath, composing myself as I followed him through the grand foyer.

"This way," the butler directed, leading me toward the unknown.

I trailed behind him, my heart pounding in my chest. 

As we walked through the grand corridors, lined with exquisite artworks and antique furnishings, I barely noticed the lavish surroundings. My focus was fixed on the impending encounter.

We reached the double doors leading to the expansive garden, where Mrs. Prescott awaited. The butler paused, his hand on the handle.

"The chairwoman will await you in there," he said sternly. 

I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment. Meeting the butler's gaze, my resolve strengthened.

"Thank you."

The butler nodded curtly, opening the door for me to proceed. Squaring my shoulders, I summoned my determination and stepped into the garden.

The meticulously maintained paradise enveloped me , vibrant flowers and lush greenery surrounded Mrs. Prescott. She sat poised, her expression unreadable.

Approaching her slowly, my heart pounded in my chest. Mrs. Prescott's icy blue eyes studied me with skepticism, her stern face and pressed lips exuding disapproval.

Halting a few feet away, my palms sweated with nerves. Meeting her gaze, I fought to maintain composure.

"You're the one who insisted on seeing me," Mrs. Prescott said, her voice sharp and cold. "I assume you have a good reason for disrupting my peaceful afternoon."

My throat dried suddenly. No difference existed between her and Kyle – both cold. But I hoped she'd help.

Recalling my purpose, I steeled myself.

"Yes, I do," I replied, surprisingly steady. "I have something important to discuss."

Mrs. Prescott raised an eyebrow, her piercing gaze unwavering.

"Well, speak then. I don't have all day."

I took a deep breath, gathering my thoughts as I sat across from Mrs. Prescott. Her imposing presence and stern expression made my nerves flutter, but I knew I had to tread carefully.

"It's about Kyle," I began, my voice trembling slightly. "Your grandson."

Mrs. Prescott's expression hardened at the mention of Kyle's name, her eyes narrowing.

"What about him?" she asked, her tone guarded and wary.

I hesitated, unsure how to approach the sensitive topic. But I knew I had to be honest.

"I kinda met Kyle at a party," I started, recalling the night that changed everything. "We... ended up spending the night together."

Mrs. Prescott's eyes widened slightly, surprise flitting across her features before being quickly masked by a stoic expression. She didn't say anything, merely gesturing for me to continue with a subtle tilt of her head.

I took another deep breath, steeling myself for the reaction my next words would likely elicit.

"Well….

Mrs. Prescott's gaze sharpened, suspicion growing in her eyes.

"What exactly are you trying to say?" she asked, her voice laced with warning, her tone implying that I better be truthful.

I clenched my fists, summoning every ounce of courage.

"I came to tell you that I'm carrying Kyle's child," I said, the words tumbling out in a rush.

Mrs. Prescott's eyes narrowed, her lips pressing into a thin line.

"A child?, you’re pregnant?” she asked , her tone laced with disbelief and skepticism.

I nodded, desperation creeping into my voice.

"Yes, and I went to confront him, but he threw me out," I added, the memory of Kyle's rejection still stinging.

Mrs. Prescott's expression turned skeptical, her eyes glinting with doubt.

"I've seen many women claim such things," she said, her voice dripping with disdain. "I'm not surprised."

My eyes widened, outrage flashing.

"I'm not lying!" I exclaimed, my voice rising. "Your grandson took my virginity, and now I'm carrying his child. I don't care if he wants me or not, but he should honor his responsibility."

Mrs. Prescott's gaze lingered, her expression unreadable.

"So, what do you want?" she asked finally, her tone still guarded. "Money?"

I scoffed, indignation burning within me.

"No, I want him to honor his responsibility," I replied firmly. “And I want you to help me make him listen” 

After what felt like minutes, Mrs. Prescott smiled, a small, enigmatic smile.

"You're definitely different," she said, her words hanging in the air like a puzzle.

I furrowed my brow, unsure what she meant.

Different from whom? Different from what?

But before I could ask, Mrs. Prescott leaned forward, her eyes glinting with a hint of intrigue.

"Tell me young lady ," she said, her voice softer, "what makes you think Kyle will listen to me?"