Married to the Wrong CEO

Chapter 76: Lies

"There was nothing much at first," Namira said, continuing in the same slow, steady tone she had been using since the conversation began. "Your records were clean—nothing unusual, nothing out of order. I even double-checked because I thought maybe someone had tampered with something, but everything was perfectly normal. At least that’s what I thought until I saw the actual report and—"

"This is insane. Whatever you hope to find you won’t —" Dora cut in sharply, unable to hold herself back, but Namira kept talking right through her interruption.

"—and imagine my shock," Namira continued smoothly without pausing for even a second, "when I found out your mother committed suicide by jumping in front of a bus."

"It was actually a pretty gory and horrific death from what my private investigator found out. Memorable even!" She emphasized not feeling the slightest thread of discomfort as she talked about a woman’s death like it was nothing but entertainment.

Dora’s words died in her throat. Her first instinct was disbelief, followed by irritation that hit her fast, strong, and in a way she didn’t bother hiding.

"What lies are you trying to sprout?" Dora snapped, her tone sharp as she leaned forward. The accusation stung more than she expected, enough that she felt her heartbeat pick up. Namira slowly removed her shades again—pulling them off with unnecessary force—almost like she wanted Dora to see her face clearly while she spoke.

"My mother died giving birth to me," Dora said, emphasizing every word. Her jaw tightened, and she glared hard enough that anyone else would have backed down. "So whatever you’re trying to do, stop it."

"If you think lies would somehow endear me to you you are dead wrong! I’ld go out of my way to make life harder for you if it’s the last thing I do" Dora promised with a hardened expression on her face.

Namira didn’t back down. Instead, she let a smirk form, starting small and spreading in a way that looked deliberate.

"Stop saying the truth?" she asked with a quiet laugh. "I’m guessing you weren’t aware." Her tone was light, but the intention behind her words wasn’t subtle at all. She looked like she was enjoying the entire moment.

"I could say more, but—" She paused, lips parting slightly as if she wanted to continue — then snapped her mouth shut again as she slowly shook her head.

Her eyes twinkling in amusement that she seemed to relish in as she stared at the confused look in Dora’s eyes.

Dora stared at her, her irritation turning into something deeper and heavier. She pushed herself to her feet, unable to stay seated any longer.

"This conversation is over," Dora said, her voice tight. "I’m not going to sit here and listen to—"

"Lies?" Namira asked, also rising to her feet, her expression unbothered. If anything, she seemed even more amused.

"I would try and find out the truth first," Namira added casually. She bent down, grabbed the blanket she had brought, folded it with no haste whatsoever, then picked up the rest of her things. "If I were you."

Ordering her own bodyguards who had followed her

go ahead and pack the rest of the things she couldn’t pack.

She didn’t wait for Dora to respond. She simply turned around and walked away with a smug expression that made it clear she thought she had already won whatever silent battle she had started.

Dora remained standing for a few seconds, watching Namira leave with a heated gaze. Her breathing came out slightly uneven until she forced herself to calm down. She turned and headed into the changing area, needing a moment to regain control before facing anyone else.

Inside, she changed into black pants and a simple white shirt. Her movements were quick, almost stiff, like she was trying not to let her thoughts wander too far. The irritation stayed with her, simmering beneath her expression even after she finished changing.

She stepped out, signaled Ettore, and told him to alert the driver. The bodyguards moved without question, splitting into two groups—one taking the lead, the other falling behind her. Dora walked straight to the car, still feeling the weight of Namira’s words pressing on her mind.

’My father wouldn’t lie to me,’ she reminded herself silently. The thought came automatically, almost like she had repeated it to herself before. ’There’s no reason for him to lie.’

Yet no matter how hard she tried to rationalize what she knew about her father with the new information she had just received, she couldn’t.

She got into the car. The door closed behind her with a soft thud. Ettore leaned in, gave brief instructions to the driver, and the vehicle pulled out the moment the convoy behind them was ready.

Dora stared out the window. She tried to convince herself that Namira was simply trying to stir trouble. The woman enjoyed planting doubts—she made a habit of it. Dora knew that. Everyone knew that. But the specific nature of the accusation bothered her in a way she couldn’t ignore.

Her mother had died giving birth to her. That was the story she had grown up with. Her father had said it, everyone around her had known that version. So why would Namira claim something completely different?

She thought about the photos she had seen of her mother—smiling, relaxed, standing beside her father. The two of them had looked content. Dora couldn’t imagine her mother taking her own life in the middle of that.

Suicide wasn’t something small. Something someone did at the drop of a hat. Her step mother had lost a whole leg and even she herself hadn’t considered taking her own life.

The more she thought about it the more furious she became as she willed the car to move faster unwilling to waste any more time before speaking to her father.

The hospital came into view sooner than she expected. The convoy pulled into the parking lot and stopped with practiced coordination. Dora stepped out, ignoring the curious glances people threw their way. The number of guards around her always drew attention, but she had learned to ignore it.

She followed Ettore inside, took the escalator up to the familiar floor, and headed straight toward Maria’s room. Her steps were steady but filled with tension she couldn’t shake off.

Her expression was neutral even as her heart thumped hard in her chest as she tried to maintain a calm facade that was threatening to break.

Maria’s room had become almost like a second home to her father. He spent most of his time there. Dora knew she’d find him inside.

She opened the door with more force than necessary, stepped in, and shut it behind her. Every head in the room turned toward her immediately.

Maria was propped up against her pillows, looking tired but awake. Elisa sat on a chair at the side, flipping through a magazine she wasn’t actually reading. And Rossi—her stepbrother—stood near the bed with a stiff expression that shifted instantly into irritation when he saw her.

Dora not surprised since that was the way he looked at her and at that moment she could care even less than usual.

Dora ignored all of them. Her eyes went straight to her father who sat beside Maria’s bed with a gentle and concerned look as usual. Now turned to look at her.

He looked surprised. Not just surprised that she had come, but surprised at the look on her face as she walked up to him. ƒгeewebnovёl.com

"How did my mother die?" Dora asked.

The question came out with no buildup, no softness, no hesitation. She walked closer to him, her gaze steady. Her father blinked, clearly trying to understand where the question had come from.

"What do you mean by—"

"Father," Dora cut him off, her tone sharper this time. She didn’t raise her voice, but the firmness was enough to silence him. She wasn’t interested in explanations that danced around the truth. She wanted one answer. One real answer.

"...how did my mother die?" she repeated, stepping close enough that he couldn’t avoid her eyes.

He looked at her for a long second—long enough that the guilt in his expression became obvious. He swallowed hard, the muscles in his jaw tightening in a way Dora had never seen before.

And that was when she knew.

Her chest tightened as she watched his reaction. She didn’t want to believe Namira. She didn’t want to give the woman the satisfaction of being right. But the truth was written all over her father’s face long before he spoke.

His eyes began to water.

"How?" Dora asked, her voice controlled but trembling at the edges. "Why?" The questions came out quietly, but they carried the weight of everything she had believed her entire life.

Her father reached out slowly, like he wanted to take her hand or touch her arm, but she didn’t move. He lowered his hand halfway, then exhaled a shaky breath.

"You were young," he said quietly. "And the time just didn’t seem right."

Behind him, Maria, Elisa, and Rossi all exchanged looks of disbelief. It was obvious this was the first time they were hearing it too. The shock on their faces was almost identical.

Dora didn’t look at them. She kept her eyes on her father, waiting for him to continue.