Left at the Altar with His Triplets: The Billionaire Begs for Forgiveness - Chapter 38: Chapter 38

In the footage, Victoria clearly moved the hot water kettle closer to Elodie's direction.
She didn't unconsciously knock it over or accidentally misplace it—there was a deliberate action, a premeditated approach.
Then she stood up to get something, her elbow "coincidentally" hitting the kettle, sending scalding water splashing directly toward Elodie—if I hadn't reacted quickly, it would have been my daughter who got burned.
Arnold's eyes narrowed, his expression growing colder as he looked up at Victoria.
Victoria was obviously panicked in that moment, tears coming instantly as she shook her head frantically: "It's not like that, I... I just thought the kettle was too close to the edge—unsafe. I was afraid the children might bump into it, so I moved it. I really didn't expect this to happen..."
My gaze turned completely cold: "The surveillance caught everything so clearly, and you're still making excuses? You think I can't see your little tricks? Are you the only one in the world who's good at 'accidents'?"
Victoria looked as if she'd been wronged to the extreme, tears streaming down her face as if I were the cold-blooded villain.
"It was just an accident. What's the point of harping on it?"
Olivia appeared from somewhere and sat beside Victoria, her tone disdainful.
She glanced at me with righteous indignation: "Paisley, haven't you ever dropped things? Never made mistakes? Victoria has one accident and you treat her like she deliberately tried to hurt someone. We all know her temperament—she could never do such a thing."
Victoria immediately played along, her eyes red as if they might bleed, standing up to bow deeply to Elodie and me.
"It's my fault... I really didn't mean it... No matter what you think, I apologize..."
Watching her performance made me nauseous.
Olivia immediately pulled her back: "Alright, alright, don't do this. It wasn't your fault to begin with. It was just an accident, and they're fine anyway. Don't take it to heart."
I was completely stunned.
They could cover for her even with this?
Was this entire family blind? Or did they think Elodie and I were outsiders who didn't deserve justice?
I turned to look at Arnold, holding onto one last shred of hope.
But what I saw was his almost imperceptible frown. He was silent for a moment, then gently set down the tablet: "Let's... put this matter to rest."
I almost laughed out loud.
"Arnold!" I couldn't help raising my voice. "Can't you see she did it on purpose? If I hadn't blocked it, she would have splashed Elodie!"
But he still showed no emotional reaction, just said flatly: "She didn't mean it."
My heart turned ice cold.
So it wasn't that they couldn't see—they didn't want to see.
I stared hard at Arnold, that sense of helplessness washing over me, making me cold to the bone.
This was the Cavendish family.
This was the person I'd once trusted wrongly—he wasn't blind, he was biased. He was protecting Victoria, protecting her to the point of abandoning all principles.
Just then, the old butler broke the silence: "Master Arnold, the Old Master wants to see you."
Arnold glanced at me, said nothing, and walked away.
Third Person Perspective
In Scott's study, the atmosphere was oppressive and heavy.
He asked in a grave tone: "I heard from the servants that Elodie called Paisley 'Mommy'?"
Arnold sat across from him, brows furrowed, voice low: "The child was frightened at the time and called out instinctively. She wasn't necessarily calling her."
"Are you sure that's what happened?" Scott raised an eyebrow, his tone slightly stern.
Arnold nodded.
Given the circumstances, Elodie's cry of "Mommy" indeed lacked direct evidence that she was calling Paisley—though he wasn't entirely certain in his heart.
Scott was silent for a moment, frowning slightly, but a hint of suspicion flashed in his eyes.
Just then, there was a knock at the door.
"Sir." It was Neil's voice.
"Come in." Scott nodded.
Neil entered and stood beside Arnold, reporting quietly: "The matter you asked me to investigate has results."
Arnold looked up, his tone serious: "Speak."
"The investigation results are consistent with before. I contacted the auction house people again and learned about the lady's life over these years. They all said she's always been alone, never mentioned children, let alone had any close male companions—she constantly wore a mask and kept her distance from people."
After hearing this, Arnold's eyes darkened.
He had instructed Neil that since they couldn't find direct clues about Paisley, to try a different angle and investigate the people around her.
But the results were the same: clean to an unsettling degree.
She had no children?
Or were all the truths hidden too deeply by her?
His gaze grew heavier, his heart increasingly unwilling: Could it be... that he really was being wishful? Were the children just an absurd fantasy?
Scott's eyes moved sharply like a blade: "You suspect the reason we can't find evidence of her having children is because someone deliberately concealed it? That's why you investigated the people around her?"
Arnold nodded: "Her behavior is too abnormal. I have to be suspicious."
He didn't hide anything, telling everything about meeting Paisley in England and those inexplicable experiences.
After listening, Scott frowned deeply, pondering for a long time.
After a moment, a rare light flashed in his eyes: "Too many coincidences aren't coincidences. Since all external leads are cut off, why not use the simplest method to resolve the doubt?"
Arnold's heart shook as he looked up sharply: "You mean—a paternity test?"
Outside the door, Victoria was about to go upstairs to find Arnold when she happened to hear this sentence.
She stopped abruptly, her heart jumping violently—
A paternity test?!
Her face instantly turned pale, her fingertips clenching tightly.