Olivia stared at Nathaniel as if she were waiting for him to laugh and admit it was a joke. When he didn’t, her expression hardened.
“You’re throwing me out over a misunderstanding?” she said. “After everything I’ve done for you?”
Nathaniel led Marcus into the kitchen and sat him on a stool. “Stay here, buddy,” he said softly. “I’ll be right back.” He returned to the living room, closing the door behind him.
“A misunderstanding doesn’t leave a child shaking,” Nathaniel replied. “And it doesn’t come with words like ‘learn his place.’”
Olivia rolled her eyes. “You’re being dramatic. I was stressed. You know how hard it is living with a child who isn’t even—” She stopped mid-sentence.
“Finish that thought,” Nathaniel said quietly.
She hesitated, then shrugged. “He’s not really yours. You adopted him out of guilt. Everyone knows that.”
Nathaniel felt something settle in his chest—not rage, but clarity. “I adopted Marcus because I wanted to be his father. And I am. Biology has nothing to do with it.”
Olivia scoffed. “You don’t see it, but people talk. A wealthy man like you, raising a Black child—it raises questions. I was only trying to protect our image.”
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