007

About an hour later…

“Five months’ pay. That’s what you’ll lose over this mess.” Alexander Hudson unbuttoned his tuxedo as he settled into the backseat of the car.

Gerald swallowed hard and hurried into the driver’s seat.

By the time they reached the airport, the flight the woman had booked had already taken off.

She was gone—vanished without a trace.

The drive back to the company was suffocatingly silent. Gerald stole a glance at his boss through the rearview mirror and shivered.

“Er… Boss,” he ventured carefully, “she might not be gone for long. Besides, we’re not even certain she’s the one we’re looking for. I can still track where she’s headed—”

Alexander said nothing. His face was blank, unreadable.

For what it was worth, his assistant wasn’t wrong. She might not have been *that* woman.

A few seconds passed.

“Cease the search,” Alexander muttered darkly.

“…”

Gerald wanted to argue, but he knew better. He had already screwed up—twice—today.

“Yes, sir.”

When Alexander returned to his office, someone was already waiting for him.

“Mother.” He bent down, kissed her hair, and hung his overcoat neatly on the rack before taking his seat.

Third Madam Hudson clicked her tongue. “Why do I feel like you’re not happy to see me? And where have you been?”

“Mother, I’m always glad to see you,” he replied, offering a brief, practiced smile. “Business.”

“Hmph. Always business.” She studied him closely. “When are you going to marry Amanda?”

“I never said I was.” Alexander adjusted his glasses and turned his attention to his computer screen.

“Alex, what is wrong with you?” Madam Hudson snapped. “Amanda’s genes are compatible with yours. She’s the only one in the world who—”

“No,” he interrupted calmly, finally looking up at her. “She’s not.”

Third Madam Hudson froze.

“I found someone.”

Her eyes narrowed as she stared at her son. Alexander was not the type to joke.

“You’re certain?” Her voice came out hoarse.

He nodded. “I confirmed it myself.”

“Then what are you waiting for?” she demanded. “Bring her home.”

His lips pressed into a thin line. “I will. Soon.”

Outside the office door, Amanda stood frozen, having overheard every word. Her hands clenched tightly at her sides, her jaw hardening.

“Whoever you are,” she hissed under her breath, “trying to take my place… you have no idea what’s coming.”

Her eyes burned with malice.

“I’ll crush you with my bare hands.”

She turned on her heel and stormed away.

---

Five Years Later…

“I’m waving right now. You still can’t see me?” Janet Hampton clicked her tongue, her round eyes darting around as she scanned the crowded terminal, excitement written all over her face.

It had been nearly six years since she and her best friend last saw each other.

“Is that you with the tiny hand?” Lovett Larson’s gentle voice teased from the other end of the call.

“Don’t you dare!” Janet shot back, scowling.

Lovett chuckled softly. “Nine o’clock.”

Janet instinctively turned.

“My baby!” With a shrill cry, she hung up and bolted toward the woman standing a short distance away.

Lovett smiled and opened her arms—only for Janet to dodge her entirely, crouching down to scoop the little girl beside her into a tight embrace.

“My babyyyy! I finally get to see you at last!” Janet sobbed dramatically, tears of joy spilling.

Lovett’s smile twitched. She slowly lowered her arms, clearly betrayed.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you too, Aunt Janet,” four-year-old Reema said sweetly, flashing a mischievous grin.

“Awww.” Janet whispered conspiratorially, “Did you bring me chocolates?”

“Plenty!” Reema giggled.

“That’s my girl!” They high-fived with enthusiasm.

As the three headed toward Janet’s car, Lovett shook her head helplessly.

“This has to be the highest form of betrayal,” she muttered.

“Stop being a crybaby.” Janet clicked her tongue, hugging Reema tighter.

After loading their luggage into the trunk, Lovett slammed it shut.

“Well,” Janet drawled smugly, “since the two of you love each other so much, why don’t you go on without me?” Lovett rolled her eyes.

“Are you abandoning me, Mommy?” Reema pouted. “Aunt Janet and I love you, you know.”

Lovett softened instantly. She bent down and kissed her daughter’s cheek.

“I know, sweetheart. Mommy has somewhere to go. Stay with Aunt Janet, okay? I’ll come pick you up later. Be good.”

Reema nodded obediently.

Once the seatbelt was fastened, Janet slid into the driver’s seat. “See you.”

Lovett waved until the car disappeared from sight. Then she flagged down a cab.

—

The driver dropped her off minutes later.

Lovett paid the fare and lifted her gaze to the towering mansion before her.

Though night had fallen, the estate was brightly lit. Laughter and music spilled from within. A celebration was clearly underway.

Her fingers curled slowly.

This place had once been her home.

She had grown up here. Laughed here. Cried here.

Five years ago, she had been dragged out of these doors with nothing but the clothes on her back. Five years ago, she had lost everything.

Her jaw tightened.

No matter the cost, she would take back everything that rightfully belonged to her—one piece at a time.

Revenge.

Lovett straightened, masking her emotions, and strode toward the Larson residence with her head held high.

Andrew, the family butler of over a decade, froze when he saw her.

“Young… Young Lady Larson?” he stammered, utterly stunned.

Lovett smirked and winked at him.

Without another word, Andrew hurried to open the double doors.

The noise hit her instantly—music, chatter, laughter. The lavish birthday banquet filled the grand hall.

Today was Madam Larson’s birthday.

Dianne Larson—her stepmother.

Lovett’s eyes sharpened as she moved deeper into the ballroom.

At first, no one noticed her.

Dianne sat regally at the center table, surrounded by her daughter, her sister, and their families—laughing, celebrating, basking in attention.

A slow smile curved Lovett’s lips.

She bypassed their table and walked straight to the podium. Before the MC could react, she took the microphone.

“Ah,” she said lightly, her voice amplified throughout the hall, “it’s my mother’s birthday today—and I wasn’t invited?”

The room fell silent.

Every head turned toward the stage.

Gasps rippled through the crowd.

Standing there was a tall, slender woman with porcelain-like skin and cascading waves of hair. Her beauty was striking—almost unreal.

“Is she a goddess?” someone whispered.

Dianne Larson, however, felt her blood boil.

‘What is this bitch doing here? How did she get in? Why isn’t she dead?’

Shock rendered her speechless.

Ashley Lice’s eyes nearly popped out of her sockets. Kennedy Lice fared even worse.

Lovett’s gaze sliced through the crowd and landed squarely on Dianne.

“Why wasn’t I informed there’d be such a grand celebration, Mother?” she asked coolly. “Everyone’s here—except me.”

‘Mother?’

‘Dianne Larson has another daughter?’

The hall erupted.

“Don’t tell me it’s because you’re not my birth mother,” Lovett continued, her lips curving mockingly. “It’s fine. I forgive you. After all, we’re family… right, Mother?”

The murmurs grew louder.

“I remember the Larsons had a daughter…”

“Wasn’t there a girl before Dianne married into the family?”

“Poor thing. She disappeared years ago.”

“So Dianne and her daughter took everything?”

Dianne’s face drained of color.

Each whisper stabbed deeper, her insides churning violently.

Damn wench.