Chapter 464 I'm Pregnant, I'm Carrying Nicholas's Child!
Silence hung heavy between them on opposite ends of the call.
After about a minute, Matthew hung up. His pride wouldn't allow him to utter a single word of plea.
On the other end, Oliver tossed his phone aside carelessly. The conversation had sobered him considerably.
Beside him, Sarah knelt in shock.
Nicholas stood accused of embezzling over a hundred million dollars—something she could barely comprehend. Her instincts told her Oliver had orchestrated it all.
She looked up at him, questions in her eyes though she couldn't bring herself to ask.
Oliver didn't wait for her to speak. "Yes, I arranged it," he admitted plainly.
"His mistress Azalea, the embezzled funds—I set it all up. Whether Nicholas gets the death penalty or walks free is entirely my decision. But as you can see, Matthew refuses to bend."
Sarah sat there, stunned into silence.
Oliver pulled her into his arms. "Do I frighten you?"
She shook her head gently.
He cradled her head against his chest and explained in a low voice, "Matthew's power runs too deep to attack directly. Nicholas was the weak link—the quickest way in. Trust me, Sarah, Nicholas isn't my target. Matthew is."
After a long moment, Sarah gave a soft murmur of acknowledgment.
The alcohol began to affect Oliver again. He caressed her delicate face, whispering, "I'll always tell you everything. No secrets between us. Sarah, let's be true partners, shall we?"
Sarah could barely breathe in his tight embrace.
"We're not even married," she protested.
"Not married? Then why were you beneath me last night, calling me 'husband' and begging for mercy?" he teased.
His crude words made Sarah roll her eyes. She couldn't be bothered to respond.
But a man with alcohol in his system was impossible to deal with.
The Moore family had been dealt a devastating blow.
Vaughn was frantically calling in favors, Isabella was inconsolable, and Hestia was smashing plates and berating servants in her fury.
As night fell, a car pulled away from the Moore Mansion.
Half an hour later, it stopped outside the police station.
Aaron went inside to negotiate and emerged much later.
Opening the rear door, he informed Matthew, "They've made an exception, but you only have ten minutes. Say what you need to quickly. Save the scolding for when we get him out."
Matthew gave a cold laugh. "Get him out? Let him wait for his death sentence."
Despite his harsh words, Matthew moved quickly once he stepped out of the car.
In a small visitation room, Nicholas appeared, silver handcuffs on his wrists. In just half a night, he looked like a different man—haggard and worn.
Matthew slapped him five or six times in quick succession, leaving Nicholas's ears ringing.
"Nicholas! Didn't I tell you there are two things you should never get involved with—money and women? Did you forget everything I said? What else are you hiding from me? Tell me!"
"There's nothing else. I swear."
The night was still. Matthew's face was ashen, his eyes filled with disappointment.
The Moore family had fallen!
Even if he exhausted every connection to save Nicholas's life, his grandson would never return to respectability. The foundation the Moore family had built over decades was destroyed because of a woman.
Matthew looked at Nicholas steadily.
"That woman Azalea," he said calmly, "you lavished her with gifts, you turned against Hestia for her, and in the end, she was Oliver's spy all along. You couldn't help yourself from keeping her. You're a complete fool."
Matthew's expression grew more severe. "Think about what you've done while you're in here. I'll handle things outside."
With that, he signaled Aaron to open the door.
After a moment of shock, Nicholas lunged toward the door but was roughly forced back down. He could only shout at Matthew's retreating figure, "Azalea isn't what you think! She isn't! What are you going to do?"
"I'm going to eliminate Azalea! Then there will be no one left to distract you!"
Behind him, Nicholas's curses grew hysterical.
Matthew paid no attention.
Dressed in black, he walked down a corridor darker than the night itself. As he moved further away, Nicholas's voice faded from frantic to weak—clearly, he'd been subdued with a stun baton.
Matthew didn't look back.
But there were tears in his eyes as his lips trembled into a forced smile for Aaron. "How disgraceful! Let him suffer a bit to learn his lesson. In this world, people only use each other—there's no such thing as true feelings, especially not with a woman of questionable virtue!"
With thunderous determination, he made his way to Azalea's residence.
Azalea had had a chance to escape because Zoey had warned her in advance.
But poverty had made her fearful. She couldn't bear to leave behind her closet full of designer clothes, nor the jewelry Nicholas had given her.
She spent two hours packing her belongings.
Just as she was about to leave, Hestia intercepted her.
Nicholas had been arrested for buying jewelry and mansions for his mistress—how could Hestia not hate her?
She humiliated Azalea mercilessly.
Azalea's clothes were torn open, exposing her smooth, voluptuous body. Held down by two middle-aged women, Hestia slapped her repeatedly in a vengeful rage, as if she wanted to beat her to death right there.
She had seen footage of Nicholas being intimate with Azalea.
Nicholas had promised to come back to the family, yet for months he hadn't so much as touched her, treating her as if she were invisible. The humiliation and her unmet needs left her feeling empty and changed her emotionally.
Taking out her anger on Azalea gave her a twisted sense of satisfaction—something not even Isabella could stop.
It was at this moment that Matthew entered the room.
He looked around at the lavish, almost decadent luxury, then at the woman before him—despite her pitiful state, was clearly a beauty.
Matthew felt no chivalrous impulse to protect her.
Nor did he show any overt hostility. He looked down at Azalea, his tone cold and detached, "I'm taking you away now. Any message for Nicholas?"
Azalea clutched herself tightly, curling up in silence.
Her entire body trembled.
She knew what being "taken away" meant—she would never see tomorrow's sun.
Aaron's eyes showed reluctance, but he still raised his hand, signaling for her to be dragged away.
The moment those rough hands touched Azalea, she screamed, "Don't touch me! Keep your hands off me! I'm pregnant—I'm carrying Nicholas's child!"
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