Chapter Eight

“Then you have to die bcause I’m telling you, this property is mine. I worked for it. Do you think I’ll watch you hand it to your stepson and his bloody wife?” Teagan snapped, squeezing my hand like an anchor.

“Sweetheart, sorry for the drama. Let’s take our seats,” I heard him add, his smile forced and smooth.

Theresa’s face was still a mask of disgust when Grandpa cleared his throat.

“What’s your wife’s name?” he asked.

Before Teagan could answer, I stepped forward. “Grandpa, I’m Cora.”

He gave a small smile, the lines at his eyes softening for the first time since we’d arrived.

Murmurs rose around the table. A younger man leaned toward the guest beside him, whispering loud enough for the nearest ears to hear. “I don’t believe Teagan would actually date—or marry—someone like her. She’s too forward. Doesn’t she know we behave differently in this family?”

The woman beside him nodded, eyes narrowed. “She’s an act. Teagan is cold; he wouldn’t choose a loose woman. His mother is right—she’s a con. He must have paid her. Let’s see how long their little play lasts. People like her never last.”

Their words landed like stones. I felt every stare like a hand on my skin—heavy, judging, eager to see me fail. I forced my shoulders back and kept my smile steady.

“Do you think all couples are fake?” I shot back, my voice steady but cutting. “Perhaps you’re fake yourself to think someone else is fake.”

“Hey, girl, watch your mouth and how you speak here.” The older man, who had been quiet until now, finally spoke up. His tone was stern, like a judge passing sentence.

I chuckled, tilting my head slightly. “Sir, but you sat right here while they insulted me, calling me a con artist. Meanwhile, what Teagan and I have is pure love. We’re married — that alone proves our relationship is genuine. Why would anyone assume I’m acting, or doing this for money?” I asked, my eyes locking on him. He had to be Teagan’s uncle — the father of these two rude, whispering cousins.

“Father-in-law,” the young woman chimed in again, “I’m very sure they’re pretending. Grandpa should test them.”

Teagan finally spoke, his voice low but sharp enough to slice the air. “Why do you all love making my business yours?” He sat up straighter, the muscles in his jaw flexing. “I’m respecting you all because Grandpa is here. I’m not here for any of you. I’m here for Grandpa.”

“That’s why you have the nerve to bring a con artist here?” Theresa snapped, her eyes narrowing.

I turned to her, my lips curving into a cold smile. “Mother-in-law, aren’t you supposed to be on our side?” I asked.

Her head jerked up, her eyes blazing.

Before she could respond, Teagan cut in. “Babe, she’s not your mother-in-law. I never introduced you to one.”

But instead of letting that derail me, I leaned forward, my voice tightening with emotion. “Whether you deny it or not, she’s the one who gave birth to you. Outside this roof, anyone would call her my mother-in-law. And someone needs to talk sense into her. This is a woman-to-woman matter.”

I turned fully to Theresa now, tears pricking my eyes but my voice like steel. “If you want your own peace, then you need to respect my husband. You’re my husband, Teagan,” I said, glancing at him, “and I won’t tolerate any form of disrespect toward you. It’s clear you hate him. But why? Why would a mother hate her own child this much? If you knew you weren’t going to like him, then why give birth to him?”

My voice cracked on the last sentence. The room went silent. I felt tears gather but refused to let them fall. In my previous life, I had vowed never to let anyone treat me like trash again. Not in this life. Not now. Not with Teagan. He might be part of this contract, but he was also the man the universe had thrown into my path after my rebirth — and I would not stand by and watch them tear him down with their words.

Teagan smirked, his lips curving with quiet amusement. “You’re wasting your energy on these people,” he said, his tone calm but dismissive. “Why don’t you stop talking to them and focus on what Grandpa has to say? I brought you here to meet him — not any of them.”

The quiet authority in his voice made Theresa’s face twist with fury. I saw her fists clench tightly, her knuckles white against her skin.

“Who said this lowlife gets to comment on what I have with my son?” Theresa spat, her voice sharp and venomous. “How is that your business? You’re nothing but an outsider. I know this man — the one you call your husband — better than you ever will. He hates women. He hates me. So why shouldn’t I return the favor?”

Her words sliced through the room like shards of glass. The others watched silently, lips twitching with hidden satisfaction. Only Grandpa’s face stayed still, unmoved, as though he had seen and heard too much already.

Theresa wasn’t done. Her next words came out in a cruel hiss. “I’m not someone who yearns for love. It was already stressful enough giving birth to him. I regretted it.”

The air grew heavy. My stomach twisted. I glanced at Teagan, and for the first time, I understood. I understood why he had built walls so high around his heart. I understood his silence, his distance. These people didn’t deserve his attention, let alone his love.

But Teagan didn’t flinch. He sat still, his expression unreadable, his smirk gone but his composure iron-clad. That alone made me admire him even more.

Then Grandpa’s voice filled the room — calm but booming with power. “Then you can’t have anything to do with this family again,” he said. “If you regret giving birth to Teagan, then you’ve no place here. It’s because of him that I even allowed you to stay in this family this long. After my son’s death, you went ahead and married another man. I didn’t judge you for moving on. But after what you’ve said tonight…”

He paused, his gaze sharp as a blade. “You’re no longer part of this family, Theresa. Leave. Now.”

The room went silent. Theresa’s chair screeched as she stood. Her face was pale but defiant. She grabbed her bag and lifted her chin. “I already have a family — one that loves and cares for me,” she said bitterly. Then she turned and stormed out, her heels striking the marble floor like a series of gunshots.

I caught the faintest hint of a satisfied smirk on Teagan’s lips. He didn’t say a word, but his eyes gleamed — not with victory, but with quiet relief.

Grandpa turned to us. His expression softened. “Teagan,” he began, “I believe you and Cora share something genuine. With everything you’ve done for this family, you deserve the inheritance more than anyone here. But…” — he looked around the table, letting the suspense build — “to prove to everyone that this isn’t an act, you’ll have to wait two years. If your marriage lasts that long, and you have a child by then, the inheritance will officially be yours.”

Gasps echoed around the table. My pulse quickened. A child? Two years?

Grandpa’s gaze shifted to me. “Welcome to the Presley family, Cora.”

The tone in his voice — deep, almost approving — sent a strange shiver down my spine. My heart skipped, not out of fear, but something dangerously close to pride. For the first time, I felt like I truly belonged in this story — not just as Teagan’s fake wife, but as someone who had finally stepped into her destiny. But Teagan was he even ready for this things.