Chapter 4 - THE FIANCÉE WHO FEARED A MAID|
Vivian Sinclair had been raised to believe that everything could be managed if she controlled the story first.
When she was ten, her father left the family without warning. Her mother told her that he had chosen a poorer life because he could not handle success. When she was sixteen, a school rival accused her of cheating, and Vivian convinced half the class that the rival was lying. By twenty-five, she could turn an insult into a compliment, a mistake into someone else's fault, and an ordinary disagreement into a public humiliation.
It was how she survived in a family where money was never enough to guarantee affection.
Julian had always been different.
He was not impressed by her connections. He did not flatter her. When she spoke, he listened carefully enough to notice when she changed the subject.
At first, she found the challenge exciting.
Then she began to fear that he could see through her.
Three weeks earlier, she had married into the Ashcom family's future. The wedding date was scheduled for six months ahead, and her mother had already begun planning the guest list.
Everything seemed secure.
Until Nomi Dwart smiled at Julian across a terrace.
Vivian had watched from the ballroom doors as the billionaire stopped speaking to a group of investors and looked toward the maid. It lasted only a second, but Vivian recognized the expression on his face.
It was tenderness.
She had never seen him look at her that way.
Now, standing in the estate's dressing room, she stared at the torn uniform and felt something close to panic.
Her mother entered without knocking.
"Tell me what you know about the girl."
Vivian turned.
"Nothing. She's a maid."
"Don't lie to me."
"I don't know her."
Eleanor placed the doctor's drawing on the dressing table.
"This was found in your father's old files."
Vivian looked at it.
Then her expression changed.
"Where did you get that?"
Eleanor's voice sharpened.
"Why do you recognize it?"
Vivian stepped back.
"I've seen it before."
"Where?"
"In a folder Julian keeps locked in his father's study."
Eleanor stared at her.
"You've been in that study?"
"Julian asked me to help sort papers before the engagement. I found a medical file and a photograph. I thought it belonged to someone in the family."
"What did you do with it?"
"I put it back."
"Did you tell Julian?"
Vivian hesitated.
"No."
Eleanor closed her eyes.
"You have no idea what you've done."
Vivian's composure cracked.
"Why does everyone keep saying that? She's nobody! She's a woman who serves drinks at parties. She has no education, no family, no money. Why should Julian care about her?"
"Because the scar matches a record that should not exist."
"And if she is the lost child, what happens to me?"
Eleanor studied her daughter.
"Your engagement is not the center of this story."
"It is the center of my life!"
The words echoed against the mirrors.
Vivian covered her mouth, surprised by her own desperation.
Eleanor softened slightly.
"You are my daughter. Nothing about this discovery changes that."
"But if she inherits the Callaway trust, she could take everything."
"What everything?"
"The foundation. The property. The shares you promised me."
Eleanor went still.
"I never promised you the trust."
"You promised that when I married Julian, our families would be united."
"I meant the families. Not the money."
Vivian's eyes filled with tears.
For years, she had believed that wealth was the only thing protecting her from becoming insignificant. If Nomi turned out to be the missing heiress, she would lose not only her place in the Ashcom world but also the story she had built around herself.
She looked at the drawing again.
"Suppose the scar is real," she said. "Suppose she is related to you. That doesn't make her innocent."
"No," Eleanor replied. "But it doesn't make you entitled to hurt her."
Vivian turned away.
"You're choosing her over me."
"I'm choosing the truth."
Eleanor left the room.
Vivian stood alone until the sound of the door had faded.
Then she took out her phone and called a number she had memorized years earlier.
A man answered.
"Did you find it?" she asked.
"Not yet."
"Then keep looking. I don't care what you have to do."
"Are you sure you want to continue?"
Vivian stared at the mirror.
"That girl walked into my life and started taking everything."
The man sighed.
"She hasn't taken anything yet."
Vivian's expression hardened.
"Then make sure she never gets the chance."
She ended the call.
Outside the dressing room, someone had been standing in the corridor.
May you like
Julian Ashcom had heard every word.
And in his hand was the original key to his father's private archive.
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