Chapter 8 - Flashes of the Past
Back inside the penthouse, the atmosphere had completely shifted. Medical professionals were tending to Lily, giving her warm milk and blankets, while the security team stood at attention like soldiers waiting for a command.
Alexander stood in his private study, his private investigator laying out a stack of financial documents across the mahogany desk.
"You were right, Mr. Sterling," the investigator reported, pointing to a highlighted bank transfer on a printed statement. "Dr. Evans received a wire transfer of five million dollars from an offshore account registered under a shell corporation owned by Vanessaâs family, exactly three hours before he administered the DNA test. The original samples he processed were swapped. The genetic match between you and little Lily is ninety-nine point nine-nine percent."
Alexander closed his eyes, taking a slow, deep breath to control the volcanic rage threatening to consume him. "Where is Vanessa?"
"Sheâs currently at the grand charity gala at the Plaza Hotel," the investigator replied smoothly. "Hosting the elite of New York, celebrating her upcoming wedding to you."
Alexander opened his eyes. The storm-gray depths were completely ice. "Cancel the wedding. Prepare the media outlets. And ready my car. Itâs time to crash a party."
Down in the residential wing, Clara sat by the window in a plush armchair. As the warmth of the room seeped into her bones, a strange, agonizing pressure began to build behind her temples. Flashes of lightâblinding white sunlight reflecting off the ocean, the roar of an engine, a womanâs laughing voice calling out a warningâexploded behind her eyes.
She clutched her head, crying out softly as a locked door in her mind violently blew open.
May you like
The yacht. The storm. Being pushed off the deck into the freezing dark water while pregnant.
She wasn't just a maid who had lost her memory. She was the woman Alexander Sterling had spent six years mourning.
