I Was His Secret Genius, Now I’m His Biggest Regret Chapter 18

I Was His Secret Genius, Now I’m His Biggest Regret Chapter 18

The lead lawyer didn’t look at Savannah. His gaze, cold as a probe, fell on Beau kneeling in the mud. The riding outfit, soaked in mud and humiliation, was more persuasive than any words.

“Photograph the evidence,” he told his assistant without turning.

The flash lit up, capturing Beau’s pale face and Savannah’s suddenly bloodless expression.

Only then did the lawyer crouch down to Beau’s level, his voice surprisingly gentle. “Son, can you tell me who made you kneel here?”

Beau’s lips trembled. He looked at his father, then at this stranger whose eyes held no contempt. His small finger lifted and pointed straight at Savannah.

“Her.” The boy’s voice was quiet, but perfectly clear. “She kicked my pony and stepped on my hand. She made me kneel here.”

The blood drained from Savannah’s face. “No! He’s lying! Clayton, you can’t believe a child’s nonsense!”

“Mr. Montgomery,” the lawyer said, standing and looking down at Savannah, “according to Article 17, Section 3 of the family trust agreement, any non-family member who causes physical or psychological harm to a trust heir must be immediately and permanently barred from all Montgomery family properties.”

He turned to the butler. “Please call Miss Beaumont a car and ensure she gathers all her personal belongings and leaves the estate immediately.”

“Clayton!” Savannah finally collapsed. She lunged for Clayton’s arm. “You can’t let them do this to me! Say something!”

Clayton shoved her away violently. She staggered and fell to the ground. His eyes held a loathing she had never seen. “Get out of my house,” he said, each word distinct. “If I see you near my children again, I promise you won’t be able to stay anywhere in Kentucky.”

A figure stepped out from the shadows of the garden. It was Marcus, the distilling supervisor Clayton had fired.

“I was the one who called the board,” he said. He looked at Clayton without triumph, only exhaustion. “I couldn’t stand by and watch you destroy the distillery, and then destroy your children.”

Clayton looked at him, a ball of burning coal lodged in his throat. He rasped out two words. “Thank you.”

Marcus sighed, his gaze turning toward the empty main house. “If Mrs. Ava were here, things never would have gotten this bad.”

Those words were like a needle, piercing Clayton’s heart.

Yes. If Ava were here…

Late that night, Clayton personally washed the mud from his children and carried them to their warm beds. Daisy had cried herself to sleep, tear tracks still on her face. Beau, however, lay with his eyes open, staring at the ceiling.

Clayton sat beside the bed, overwhelmed with guilt. He thought of the dead stillness in Ava’s eyes before she left. He thought of how he had dismissed her care as unnecessary.

“Dad,” Beau said softly, “Savannah won’t come back, right?”

“Right. She won’t.” Clayton held his son’s cold little hand.

“Then… when is Mom coming back?” Beau turned his head. His clear eyes were full of confusion and longing. “I miss Mom.”