LOGINDamien didn't move.His gun remained pointed at Evelyn Sinclair, but his eyes had shifted toward the open doorway behind him.“There's nobody behind me,” he said coldly.Evelyn shook her head.“Damien, please. Don't turn around.”Arabella's breathing became shallow. She looked past Damien, toward the dark hallway.A shadow moved.Then a familiar voice spoke.“Hello, sweetheart.”Damien froze.He knew that voice.He had heard it in childhood memories, in old recordings, and in the dreams that haunted him after his mother's funeral.Slowly, he turned.A woman stood in the doorway.She wore a black dress, her dark hair tied neatly behind her head. Her face was older, but unmistakable.“Mother?”The woman smiled.“My beautiful boy.”Damien lowered his gun slightly.“Evelyn?”“Of course.”Arabella looked between the two women.They had almost identical faces.But one stood near the desk, trembling with tears, while the other looked perfectly calm.“Which one of you is my mother?” Arabella
“Call an ambulance!” Arabella screamed.Damien was already on the phone, giving the address and demanding immediate assistance. He knelt beside Victoria and pressed a hand against the wound on her chest.“Stay with us,” he ordered. “Do you hear me?”Victoria's lips moved, but no words came out.Arabella held her other hand. “Please, don't die. You still owe us answers.”Victoria's eyes slowly shifted toward her.For a moment, the older woman seemed to recognize something in Arabella's face. Her fingers tightened weakly.“Blue…” she whispered.Arabella leaned closer. “What?”“Blue room…”Then Victoria's eyes closed.“Victoria?”Damien checked her pulse.“She’s alive,” he said. “Barely.”The ambulance arrived minutes later. Paramedics rushed Victoria out while security personnel searched the estate. Damien insisted on accompanying her to the hospital, but Arabella caught his arm.“We need to talk.”“Not now.”“She said something about a blue room.”“I heard her.”“What does it mean?”Da
Arabella stared at the photograph.Evelyn Sinclair.Evelyn Blackwood.Two names. One face.“That’s my mother,” she whispered. “Why is she wearing the Blackwood name?”Damien didn't answer immediately. He kept staring at the photograph as if looking long enough would somehow make the truth change.“My mother died when I was twelve,” he finally said. “Her name was Evelyn Blackwood. She was buried in the family cemetery. I attended her funeral.”“But the woman in this picture is my mother.”“Maybe you have the same face.”Arabella shook her head. “I've seen her every day in old family photographs. I know what she looks like. That's her.”Damien placed the phone on his desk.“Then someone has been lying to both of us.”A heavy silence filled the office.Arabella walked toward the window, trying to organize her thoughts. Her mother had supposedly died when she was a child. Her father had never spoken about her. Whenever Arabella asked questions, he would change the subject or tell her that
The first gunshot shattered the hospital window.“DOWN!” Damien shouted.He grabbed Arabella by the waist and pulled her behind the reception counter. Glass scattered across the marble floor as terrified patients and hospital staff screamed. Someone knocked over a chair. A nurse crawled beneath a desk, desperately trying to shield a little girl.Arabella's heart hammered against her chest.“Damien!” she gasped. “Where's my mother?”He glanced toward the lobby.Evelyn Sinclair was gone.“Stay here.”“No!” Arabella caught his wrist. “I'm not letting you go alone.”“Arabella, someone is shooting at us.”“And my mother is somewhere out there!”Damien's jaw tightened. Another shot struck the wall above them.He looked at her, his expression turning dangerously serious.“Then stay close to me. Whatever happens, don't let go.”He pulled a small handgun from beneath his jacket.Arabella stared at it. “You carry a gun?”“I run a billion-dollar empire. Enemies come with the territory.”“That's
Arabella read the name again.EVELYN SINCLAIR.Her mother's name.For several seconds, she couldn't hear anything except the pounding of her own heart. The photograph in Damien's hand showed a woman standing outside a hospital nursery, her face partially hidden by the shadows. She wore a pale dress and held a newborn wrapped in a white blanket.Arabella recognized the delicate gold bracelet on the woman's wrist.She had seen it in an old family portrait.Her mother had worn that bracelet on the day she married her father.“Give me the photograph,” she whispered.Damien handed it over without a word.Arabella examined every detail, searching for something that would prove the image was fake. The woman had Evelyn's long hair, slender fingers, and familiar posture. Even the small scar near her wrist appeared identical to the one mentioned in an old family diary.But none of that explained why Victoria Blackwood had connected her mother to Damien's birth.“Your aunt said my mother gave bi
“This is impossible.”Arabella stared at the photograph in Damien's hand, unable to recognize the woman she had been moments ago. Her thoughts were racing, each one more terrifying than the last.Two newborn babies.Two names.And a message claiming they had been switched.“Who put that box in my room?” she demanded.Thomas looked toward the security guards. “We're checking the surveillance footage, ma'am.”“Then check faster!”The words escaped before she could stop them.Damien glanced at her, seemingly surprised by her outburst. She barely noticed. Her attention remained fixed on the photograph.If the message was true, someone had deliberately switched two newborn babies.But why?And what did it have to do with their fathers?“Give me the photograph,” she said.Damien handed it over.Arabella examined the faded image. The babies were wrapped in identical white blankets, their faces almost indistinguishable. The names had been written in blue ink, but the handwriting was unfamilia







