Chapter Four

Lucia slowly opened her eyes.

She was lying on a bed, facing a white ceiling. All she could smell was the sharp scent of disinfectants.

She tried to sit up, and a voice said, “Take it easy, Miss Harrington.”

“Miss Harrington?” Lucia frowned and she turned.

A man wearing a perfectly tailored suit, sat in the leather chair next to her. He had a briefcase on the floor beside him, and his hands were crossed over his legs in a professional manner.

“Who are you?” Lucia asked promptly.

Her voice sounded rough. How long had she been unconscious, she wondered.

“My name is Tony Langford,” said the man. He leaned forward and handed her a glass of water, along with a white business card. “I’m the head lawyer for the Harrington family.”

She took a sip of water, then looked at him again. “Your voice sounds familiar.”

“Yes, I was the one who made the anonymous call last night,” the lawyer said with a faint smile.

Lucia’s eyes widened. “You…you’re the one who warned me about the documents?”

Langford nodded. “Yes. I’m sorry I had to do it that way, but time was running out.”

Lucia pushed herself up, confusion and anger mixing together. “What is going on? Where am I?”

The sharp pain that had tormented her for weeks was almost gone. Only a dull ache remained.

“You're in one of the best private hospitals in the city. Don't worry, you're in safe hands,” Langford said, leaned forward. “Now, I have something important to tell you, Miss Harrington...”

“I’m not…That’s not my name.”

He smiled kindly. “What I’m about to tell you will be difficult to believe. You are not Lucia Hale. Your real name is Elara, and you are the sole heir to the Harrington family fortune.”

Lucia stared at him for several seconds, then let out a bitter laugh. “What the fuck? What kind of a joke is this?”

“It’s not.” Langford’s face was as serious as stone.

Lucia dropped the glass of water angrily. ”You have no idea what I’ve been through. And you still have the guts to come here and toy with me, telling me that I’m some secret heiress to one of the wealthiest names in the city?”

“I know your spouse is cheating on you with your best friend and they plan to take over your brand after your death. I know they have a child together. I also know you were diagnosed with cancer a few weeks ago, and you were told that you have months left to live.”

Lucia opened her mouth and closed it again. How did he know all that? Just who was this man?

“Like I said, I am the head lawyer of the Harrington family,” Langford said, as if he had heard her thoughts. “And you are the only one who can inherit their fortune.”

He took up the briefcase and opened it. From within, he took out a folder and handed it to her.

She went through it carefully, uncovering several documents. A birth certificate with her picture on it, a DNA result, some pictures of herself as a child being carried by a beautiful couple, a testament signed by Edward Harrington that named her as the heir to his title and wealth.

“But I don’t understand,” she said. “I-I grew up in an orphanage.”

“You were given up for adoption when you were very young,” Langford said. “Your biological parents made that painful decision to protect you from certain dangers at the time. It took us a while to find you, but we did, anyway. And just in time, too.”

Lucia looked at the documents. It all looked real: from the pictures of her as a child, to the DNA test that confirmed her as Elara Harrington.

“I had them run the DNA test as soon as we found you in the car crash,” Langford explained.

“You should have just let me die,” she sighed. “Just end it all…”

“No, Miss Harrington. You do not have cancer like you were told. You were slowly being poisoned with a metal toxin, exhibiting symptoms similar to late-stage cancer. But it was still in the early stages. We’ve already started the proper treatment while you were unconscious. You will make a full recovery.”

That was why the pain was reduced, she thought.

Lucia clutched the bedsheets.

“I was….poisoned?” She repeated.

“I believe your husband and friend wanted you dead, so they could take over Hale Fashion. Fortunately, we found you before then.”

The cancer was fake. Logan's infertility was fake. Their marriage was fake.

The past five years of her life had been a big, cruel lie, right under her nose.

She had sacrificed her future, her scholarship, her health, her entire life for a man who never loved her. For a best friend who had stabbed her in the back.

Poisoned and played like a fool.

For a long moment, Lucia said nothing, silent tears rolling down her cheeks.

“Are you alright, Miss Harrington,” Langford asked quietly.

Something had shifted inside her. Something cold and deadly.

“I want them to pay,” she whispered, her hands clenched into fists. “I want to destroy them myself. Slowly.”

The lawyer smiled. “As you wish, Miss Harrington. You now have the full resources of the family at your disposal.”

“Good.”

She stared at the documents again, at her birth certificate and her inheritance claim. Her earliest memories had been of the orphanage, but she could not deny that something had been missing before then. She had felt it for the longest time, even before she met that devil, that bastard, Logan Hale.

“When do we leave?” She asked.

“Whenever you wish,” he replied, “Although, there is one more thing I would like to reveal to you.”

Lucia cocked her head. “What is it?”

Just as he was about to reply, the door swung open.

A man walked in, carrying a bouquet of flowers. He was tall and broad, like an athlete, with sharp features and an aura that seemed to fill the room.

His cold blue eyes rested on her suddenly, and she felt her breath catch in her throat.

Langford got to his feet and said, “Miss Harrington, allow me to introduce Lord Atlas Thorne.”