The resolve that had carried Britney out of Klaus's office lasted until the elevator doors closed, leaving her alone with the sterile hum and her own racing thoughts. Find out. The command was simple, its execution impossibly complex. How does a legal intern with student debt and a thirty-minute commute investigate a glittering dynasty like the Finch family?
She couldn't. Not directly. But she could do what she did best: her job. Klaus had told her to be vigilant and to ensure the "enmity" didn't affect her work. The best defense was a flawless offense. She threw herself back into the Verity Labs files with a ferocious intensity, cross-referencing every clause, verifying every signature with the meticulousness of a bomb disposal expert. If someone was watching for a mistake, they would find none.
Her focus was interrupted by a soft chime from her phone. A notification from a generic-looking app she'd almost forgotten about: 'We've found a potential match! Review your updated heritage profile.'
It was one of those DNA ancestry services. She'd sent in a kit months ago, a whimsical birthday gift to herself, a hope to find some distant cousin who could explain her stubborn curls or her complete inability to sing. She'd largely dismissed the results when they'd first come in, showing a generic regional mix. But the app had apparently done a periodic update.
With a skeptical sigh, she tapped the notification. The screen loaded, displaying her profile. And then her blood went cold.
Genetic Relative Matches: High Confidence
Match: James Finch (Potential Father)
Match: Lora Finch (Potential Mother)
The names stared back at her, stark and impossible on the dim screen of her phone. James and Lora Finch. The publishing magnate. The philanthropic socialite. Serene's parents.
The world tilted. The hum of the office computer, the faint chatter from the hallway—it all melted into a distant roar. Her breath hitched. The name 'Finch' in the document. Serene's inexplicable hostility. It wasn't a coincidence. It was a cataclysm.
Her hands trembled as she navigated to a search engine. Her fingers, usually so sure on the keyboard, felt clumsy. She typed "James Finch family."
The screen filled with images. There they were: James, tall and distinguished with a kind smile; Lora, elegant and graceful beside him; and Serene, perpetually poised between them, the perfect, cherished daughter. A family portrait of effortless aristocracy.
Britney's eyes scanned the articles. "Finch Family Donates $10 Million to Library Foundation." "Lora Finch Champions Literacy Gala." "Heiress Serene Finch, a Rising Star in the Art World."
Heiress.
The word was a punch to the gut. She was their daughter. Their real daughter. The DNA didn't lie. Which meant Serene was… what? An impostor. The pieces of the puzzle she didn't even know she was holding suddenly slammed together with devastating force. The nanny. The switch. The life of struggle she'd endured while a stranger lived her life of privilege.
A wave of nausea washed over her, followed by a white-hot rage so pure it was terrifying. She gripped the edge of her desk, her knuckles turning white. She needed air. She needed to scream. She needed to march into that gleaming Finch Publishing tower and demand answers.
But she didn't. She sat there, in her cheap office chair, in the belly of Klaus Smith's empire, and she forced the emotions down. She couldn't afford to be a daughter right now. She had to be Britney Carter, legal intern. Emotions were a luxury. Evidence was a weapon.
She took several deep, shuddering breaths. This changed everything. And it changed nothing. She had no proof beyond a DNA website a court would dismiss. She was up against a family with unimaginable resources and a lifetime of lies. Serene's actions now made terrifying sense. This wasn't just about professional jealousy; this was about protecting a stolen crown.
A new email popped up. It was from Mr. Higgins.
Subject: Verity Labs - Final Review
Carter, compile your preliminary findings for my review by 5 PM. The Finch Foundation has expressed interest in partnering on the educational outreach side of this acquisition. Be prepared to present your analysis if needed.
The Finch Foundation. Again. It was everywhere. This wasn't an invitation; it was a gauntlet thrown down. Serene was circling, pulling strings, ensuring their worlds remained entangled.
Britney looked at the family photo on her screen, at Serene's perfect, smiling face. The anger cooled, hardening into something steely and determined. She would play this game. She would be the perfect, diligent intern. She would compile her report. And she would be prepared to present it, to anyone.
She opened a new document, her movements precise, her mind clearer than it had ever been. She had a name now. A target. And a king, watching from his throne, waiting to see what she would do.
She began to type, the click of the keys sounding like the cocking of a gun. The intern was gone. In her place was an heiress, hidden in the shadows, and she was just beginning to learn how to fight for what was hers.