Elara's POV
Adrian's office door closed behind me with a click that sounded like a trap snapping shut.
Sit. He gestured to the leather chair across from his massive desk.
I remained standing. Where's Marcus?
I sent him home. Adrian circled around his desk, placing Marcus's phone down gently. Told him to take the rest of the day off. He seemed stressed.
My chest tightened. What did you do to him?
I gave him a mental health day. Adrian's smile didn't reach his eyes. You should be more concerned about yourself right now. What were you doing on the fifth floor, Elara?
Looking for answers.
And did you find them? He tapped Marcus's phone. Did my assistant show you something interesting?
I couldn't breathe. If I admitted it, Marcus would suffer. But lying to Adrian never worked—he always knew.
He showed me Jake's real resume, I said. You lied about him. You fabricated evidence to fire an innocent person.
I protected you from someone who wanted to use you.
He asked me for coffee!
And what would coffee lead to? Adrian's voice rose for the first time. A date? A relationship? Him worming his way into your life, into your trust, until he got what he really wanted—access to Ashford money and connections?
You don't know that!
I know men, Elara. He moved closer, and I backed toward the door. I know how they think. How they look at you and see dollar signs and opportunity. I've protected you from dozens of them.
The number hit me like a punch. Dozens?
Adrian stopped, realizing he'd said too much.
How many? I demanded. How many people have you destroyed because they showed interest in me?
Everyone who wasn't good enough for you. Which is everyone.
The casual way he said it made my blood run cold. This wasn't brotherly protection. This was something else. Something sick and twisted that had been hiding behind smiles and concern for years.
I'm leaving, I said, reaching for the door handle.
Adrian's hand shot out, slamming against the door above my head. No. You're not.
We stood frozen, his body blocking my exit, his breath warm against my hair.
Let me go, I whispered.
I can't. His voice cracked slightly. Don't you understand, Elara? I can't let you go. I won't.
Before I could respond, his phone buzzed. He ignored it. It buzzed again. And again.
With a curse, he pulled back and checked the screen. His expression changed—surprise, then something unreadable.
We're going home, he said abruptly. Now.
I'm not going anywhere with you.
Yes, you are. He grabbed my wrist, not hard enough to hurt but firm enough that I couldn't break free. There's a family emergency. Your mother just called. We need to go. Both of us.
The car ride to the estate was silent and suffocating. Adrian drove with one hand, his other resting too close to my leg. I pressed myself against the passenger door and stared out the window.
My phone buzzed. A text from Mom: Come to the drawing room immediately. Don't ask questions.
What's happening? I asked.
I don't know. But Adrian's jaw was tight, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. Dad just said it was urgent. That everyone needed to be there.
We pulled through the estate gates. There was an unfamiliar car in the driveway—expensive but not one I recognized.
My stomach twisted. Something was very wrong.
Adrian and I walked into the house together. Mom stood in the foyer, her face blotchy from crying. When she saw me, she let out a sob.
Oh, sweetheart. I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry.
Mom, what
Drawing room. Now. Dad's voice came from down the hall, strained and broken.
I ran. Adrian followed close behind, his presence like a shadow I couldn't shake.
The drawing room doors were open. Inside, Dad stood by the window, his back to us. His shoulders shook.
And sitting on the sofa was a young woman I'd never seen before. Dark hair. Delicate features. Brown eyes that looked at me with a mixture of curiosity and something that might have been anger.
Beside her sat two people in expensive suits, lawyers, from the look of them. And a woman in medical scrubs holding a folder.
What's going on? I asked.
Dad turned around. His eyes were red. Sit down, Elara. Please.
I'd rather stand.
Mom came in behind us, wringing her hands. Adrian moved to the fireplace, leaning against it with unreadable calm. Like he was watching a play instead of a family crisis.
Twenty-four years ago, Dad began, his voice shaking, your mother and I brought home a baby girl from Silvercrest Memorial Hospital. We named her Elara. We loved her from the first moment we held her.
Past tense. Loved. Not love. Loved.
Dad
There was a mistake. He looked at me with devastation in his eyes. A terrible, unforgivable mistake. Two babies were switched at birth. The hospital didn't discover the error until now.
The room tilted. I grabbed the back of a chair to steady myself.
This is Vivienne Chen, Dad continued, gesturing to the dark-haired woman. DNA tests confirm that she's our biological daughter. Our real daughter.
The words hit me like bullets. Each one tearing through everything I thought I knew.
And you... Mom's voice broke. You're not ours. Not by blood. You're Margaret Chen's daughter. She died in a car accident when you were two. We've been raising the wrong child for twenty-four years.
I couldn't speak. Couldn't breathe. Couldn't process what they were saying.
Not theirs. Not an Ashford. Not their daughter.
Everything I was, everything I'd ever been, was a lie.
I don't understand, I whispered.
Vivienne stood up, and I saw tears streaming down her face. I grew up in poverty. My grandmother worked herself to death trying to feed me. While you, Her voice turned bitter. While you lived in this mansion. Had everything. Everything that should have been mine.
I didn't know
It doesn't matter! Vivienne shouted. You took my life! You took my parents, my home, my future!
Mom rushed to her. Sweetheart, it's not her fault. It's not anyone's fault.
But Vivienne shook her head, glaring at me with pure hatred.
I looked at my parents—no, not my parents. These strangers who'd raised someone else's child by mistake.
What happens now? I asked.
Dad opened his mouth to answer, but before he could, Adrian spoke for the first time.
Nothing changes. His voice was firm, decisive. Elara stays. She's family. Blood doesn't change that.
Everyone turned to stare at him.
And then Adrian smiled—that cold, terrifying smile I was beginning to recognize.
Actually, he said, his eyes locked on mine with burning intensity, this changes everything. Because now, Elara, you're not my sister anymore.
The way he said it made my blood freeze.
And I've been waiting twenty years for this moment.