Chapter 1099

He meant that even if Alexander were of Russell blood, she must pretend otherwise. It felt like cannibalism.

"Don't worry about the DNA report. I've prepared it. Just read it."

He produced the report and handed it to Margaret. She read it several times. It resembled the original, but the conclusion had been altered. She glanced at Ralph. "You've outdone yourself!"

"Mom, I had no choice! You know how difficult Alexander is. If I don't do this, I can't get back what's mine."

"Get back what's yours?" Margaret's anger flared. "That's your father's legacy! Everything he worked for!" In her view, Alexander had built the business.

Though biased, she wasn't blind. Margaret, usually gentle with Ralph, erupted, shocking him.

He quickly conceded, "Yes, Dad's things. As his son, inheriting them is natural. Patrick's gone; it should pass to me. Alexander will inherit eventually, but I'm still alive!"

He felt aggrieved. How could his father favor his grandson? This explained years of outside ridicule. "You're determined, aren't you? No discussion?" Margaret felt a weight in her chest, clutching the paper. Ralph nodded resolutely. "Mom! This is my last chance! I'm thirty. Failure means no future. This is it. Please, help me!"

He knelt and bowed.

Margaret looked at her beloved son, her lifelong love. She closed her eyes, then raised her head, tears welling. "Then… do it."

"All right!" Ralph left jubilantly.

He didn't see her sorrowful gaze.

Heather exhaled, relaxing. She was silent before opening her eyes and looking at the book. It was challenging, the initial practices difficult. She persevered. Now, her breathing was smoother.

Yet, a surge of vitality tightened her chest, shortening her breath, jolting her back to reality. She had to stop, unwillingly. She felt close to a breakthrough.

She doubted Alexander's kickboxing skill. Even with these simple exercises, she believed she was superior. Her foundation and years of practice should have yielded faster results. Yet, progress was minimal.

Perhaps the environment was unsuitable. The noise and potential for attack were distractions. Returning home for training would be better.

"Chump!"

Her guard immediately appeared. "Yes, Ms. Riggs?"

"Pack up. Let's go back," Heather instructed.