William S. Lancaster's eyes widened in disbelief, his breath coming in short, panicked gasps. Grace quickly rushed to his side, trying to steady his breathing, but the shock from Cynthia's words had already pierced deep.
Cynthia, however, felt no sorrow. In fact, she was almost relieved, as if the years of pent-up frustration had finally been released. Her voice was calm, detached, yet it carried the weight of years of silent suffering.
"Yes," she said coolly, "I was already conceived before you raped my mother."
The room fell into stunned silence. Everyone turned their gaze between Cynthia and the bed-ridden William S. Lancaster. Her words, though precise, seemed to reverberate through the room like an explosive force.
"Moreover, whether he raised me or not is something you all know best," she continued, her voice unwavering. "I survived through working odd jobs and the sponsorship of an orphanage. The Lancaster family offered me nothing but endless humiliation and coldness."
