Barren Heiress Returns With Quadruplet

Ellen’s POV

Calmly seated at the desk in my room, I scrolled through the evidence that was released on Liz and Gabriel. The video clips, the pictures and other recordings. There was too much evidence to be gotten just by anybody.

If Kamille had taken these pictures, made these videos and given them to Belle before dying, why would Belle wait till now to release them?

Belle was the only known friend of Kamille at the time of her death, but that fragile looking Belle did not look like she had the guts to do this.

Except she had an alibi too.

I stood up and began to pace anxiously in my room. I needed to be sure a tail was placed on her. I walked back to the desk and picked up my phone. Dialing Mr. Finley’s number, I waited for him to answer.

“Ms. Ellen,” Mr. Finley echoed through the phone.Content provided by NôvelDrama.Org.

“Mr. Finley, there is someone I want you to place a tab on,” I said immediately.

“Who might that be Ms. Ellen?” He asked.

“I will send to you the details of where she lived and where she worked and her personal details.” I replied.

“Okay Ms Ellen. I will get everything processed immediately.” Mr. Finley echoed back.

“Good. I want even the tiniest details of what is going on with her. I need to know the mall she goes, the restaurant she frequents, who she visits, details of every fucking person in her life, just be sure to give me everything Mr. Finley.”

Mr. Finley assured me. “Be rest assured Ms Ellen, we will be monitoring her every move and we would not miss a beat.”

Relief flooded through me. “Good. I want to know her every movement, every interaction. I need to understand what she’s up to and if she’s behind all of this.”

“We’ll keep you updated,” Mr. Finley promised before we hung up.

I let out a heavy breath and went back to sit at my desk. Just as I sat, a sharp knock on my door landed on my door. “Who the hell is that?” I muttered irritably, before calling out, “Who is it?”

The voice of one of the household staff came through the door. “Ms. Ellen, your father has requested your presence in his study.” She announced.

I frowned, wondering what could have been so urgent to bring him home early.

With a sigh, I closed my laptop and made my way to my father’s study, curiosity gnawing at me.

As I approached my father’s study, I overheard him speaking on the phone in an agitated tone.

“How could that have happened under your watch?” he bellowed into the receiver. “I pay you guys to ensure these things are done discreetly and orderly without any trace leading back to us. So how could all the men have died with no trace of whoever killed them?”

I paused outside the door, my heart pounding in my chest as I listened to his frustrated complaints. My mind raced with questions, trying to piece together the puzzle of what he was talking about. Before I could dwell on it further, my father abruptly ended the call with a muttered curse.

I rapped thrice on the door and stepped inside his study. “Good afternoon dad.” I greeted.

“There actually is nothing good about this afternoon Ellen, we have been compromised again!” He replied angrily.

My heart sank as I listened to his words. “Dad, please calm down,” I urged, trying to keep my own rising panic in check. “What’s going on? I overheard your call on the phone. Which men? What happened?”

My father’s expression darkened as he explained the situation. “All the men we stationed to tail Zeke’s kids are dead. Every single one of them,” he revealed.

“And at the time of their deaths, Zeke’s security detail was occupied with the kids. So who killed them? There’s no trace, no leading evidence, nothing. Just a dead end.”

With his men lying there. Fuck!

I was stunned into silence by the magnitude of the revelation. “Who could have done this?” I wondered aloud, my mind racing with possibilities.

My father shook his head, his frustration evident. “That’s the same question I have on my mind,” he admitted.

“But for now, we need to reassess our approach. We’ll have to lay back our attacks on the kids and find another route to getting at Zeke.” He added grimly.

His next words took me by surprise. “You have to get pregnant, Ellen,” he declared firmly. “And I don’t fucking care who owns the child.”

I blinked as I realized the hidden meaning in his words. “But dad, you know that Zeke would not take in any child. He would try to confirm if the child is his.” I protested.

“When we arrive at that bridge we will cross Ellen.” Father said. “The most important thing is to get back with him. Remember when you mentioned going to Zeke’s house with him?” He reminded me. “That’s our opportunity. Once you’re pregnant, we’ll deal with the paternity test later.”

“Okay dad.” I replied. This was a dangerous game we were playing, but there was no turning back now. “I will have to call Becky.”

“Go ahead. Call her. We cannot back down now.” Father replied.

I stepped out of my father’s study, feeling the weight of urgency pressing down on me. I quickly dialed Becky’s number. Father was a genius when it came to these things, so I had to trust him to protect me.

It would be very devastating to give birth to a child, no one would want.

After a few rings, she finally answered, her voice calm and collected. “Hello El. How are you?”.

“Becky, it’s time,” I said urgently, my tone leaving no room for hesitation. I would have wanted to indulge her, but there was no time for a tea party, as I did not want to keep my dad waiting too long for me.

“Time for what?” Becky’s voice was tinged with concern, sensing the urgency in mine.

“We need those sperms now,” I replied firmly.

Becky hesitated, clearly caught off guard by my request. “Ellen, I’ve told you, Zeke has stopped donating sperm,” she began, her voice trailing off uncertainly.

I cut her off, my impatience getting the better of me. “Not Zeke’s sperm. Get me any sperm from any good donor,” I insisted, my voice tinged with desperation.

Becky’s concern grew evident as she spoke. “Ellen, what the hell do you think you are about to do?” she asked cautiously, sensing that something was amiss.

“Don’t ask me any fucking questions, just do what I ask, okay?” I snapped, my frustration bubbling to the surface.

After a brief pause, Becky relented, her voice still sounding unsure. “Okay, but you have to be careful with what you’re about to do,” she warned.

“That should be my problem, not yours, Becky,” I retorted sharply. I did not want her schooling me on the implications of what I was about to do.

There would only be unwanted consequences if we failed, but we won’t.

She sighed. “Okay El. I’ll get it done. When are you coming?” Becky asked.

“I’ll text you,” I replied curtly, ending the call before my resolve wavered.

“Alright. Take care of yourself.” Becky said before we hung up.

After hanging up, I stepped back into my Father’s study to meet him staring at grandma Monica’s picture.

“Are you okay dad?” I asked and he raised his face to look at me.

He didn’t look like he was okay.