The boardroom fell silent as all eyes turned to Travis. Damian’s words hung in the air, heavy with implication.
“What do you mean, ‘not your grandfather’s blood’?” Travis repeated, his voice barely above a whisper.
Damian’s lips curled into a cold smile. “Uncle, or should I even call you that? Did you really think I wouldn’t find out?”
He pulled out another file from his briefcase and slid it across the table. Travis’s hands shook as he opened it, his face draining of color as he read its contents.
“This... this can’t be true,” Travis stammered.
“Oh, but it is,” Damian replied, his voice calm. “DNA doesn’t lie, Uncle. You’re not a Blackwood by blood. My grandfather knew, and that’s why he left everything to me.”
The other shareholders murmured in shock, their earlier complaints forgo
