Those were the words Diane Jenkins whispered into the silence of the Abbott estate, her voice barely audible, but her resolve echoing like thunder in her heart.
What began as suspicion had become a storm. And now, it had a name: Audra Charles.
For weeks, Diane had watched her son Kyle fall apart. He smiled less. He avoided her eyes. His shoulders, once lifted by the confidence of young love and ambition, now slouched under the invisible weight of guilt, confusion, and something far darker: manipulation.
Clare — sweet, earnest Clare — had begun to drift. Not because she stopped loving Kyle, but because someone was poisoning her trust from within. And Diane knew exactly who that someone was.
Audra, the woman who walked into Genoa City with a smile like silk and a mind like a blade.
At first, it was whispers. Implications. Carefully planted seeds of doubt.
But the real blow came when Diane intercepted a hushed phone call — not meant for her ears, but delivered loud enough for someone as vigilant as her to hear.
“Just show Clare the test. Make her think it’s his.”
“That’ll keep her away for good.”
It hit Diane like a slap.
Audra was faking a pregnancy — dragging Kyle into a fabricated scandal that would fracture everything he’d built with Clare. And it was working.
Clare had withdrawn. Her voice was cold. Her gaze was no longer filled with belief in Kyle, but rather clouded by fear, by heartbreak, by the question no woman ever wants to ask:
“Did you betray me with her?”
Kyle didn’t even understand what he was being accused of. Every time he tried to explain, Clare only saw excuses. And Audra? She played the perfect role — heartbroken, confused, “just trying to protect the baby.”
Diane had seen enough.
She didn’t confront. Not yet. She investigated.
She tapped her network. Former VBronte assistants. Confidential files. Transaction logs. Medical records.
And then — like fate rewarding her fury — she found it.
The original test. Time-stamped. Blank. Unsubmitted. Then, another — identical format, altered date, photoshopped details, and no matching patient ID.
Fake.
Audra had never been pregnant. Not even once.
Diane didn’t smile. She didn’t even breathe.
Because now, she knew: this wasn’t about love or revenge. It was a war for control.
And in wars, Diane never fires without aiming straight for the heart.
She called a meeting. One room. Three people.
Clare. Kyle. Audra.
Clare arrived guarded. Kyle looked confused. Audra, as always, wore her veil of smug confidence — until she saw Diane.
Until she saw the laptop on the desk.
Until she saw the test results displayed in HD.
“What is this?” Clare asked quietly.
Diane didn’t answer. She played the audio instead.
Audra’s voice, clear as crystal:
“She doesn’t need to know it’s fake. She just needs to believe it long enough to walk away.”
The silence that followed was deafening.
Audra paled. Her eyes darted toward the exit, but the room might as well have been a cage.
Clare gasped. Her voice cracked.
“You… you lied. You manipulated me into leaving him.”
Kyle stood frozen, pain and disbelief etching into his face as his gaze moved from the screen to Audra, and finally to Clare.
“I never… Clare, I didn’t touch her. Not once.”
Clare’s hands trembled.
But it was Diane who stepped forward, calm and composed, and said,
“And that’s exactly what she counted on you never being able to prove. Until now.”
Audra, exposed and humiliated, offered weak denials. But it was too late.
Her house of cards collapsed.
And Kyle? He turned to Diane. For the first time in months, his voice steady, his jaw clenched not in shame — but gratitude.
“You saved us.”
Diane only nodded.
Because she knew: this wasn’t just about clearing Kyle’s name. It was about restoring truth, about shielding Clare’s heart, about making sure that no woman like Audra ever thought she could tear their family apart and walk away untouched.
As Audra fled the building in disgrace, her career in tatters and Victor’s fury surely awaiting her, Clare took Kyle’s hand once more. Not fully trusting. Not yet.
But willing to try.
And Diane?
She watched them walk away, her eyes wet but proud. Because once again, the lioness had protected her cub — not with claws, but with cunning.
