Chapter 4 - A Familiar Stranger

The world seemed to stop spinning for Damian Xavier. The low hum of gallery guests and the clinking of champagne glasses suddenly fell silent, replaced by the thundering beat of his own heart echoing in his ears.

The woman in front of him stood tall, holding a crystal glass of red wine with steady fingers. She was so different from the Camila of the past, who had always trembled whenever he looked at her too sternly.

"Ca... Camila?" Damian’s voice was hoarse, barely a whisper filled with pain.

Sheina Blake did not flinch. She tilted her head slightly, revealing her sharp jawline and diamond earrings that glittered under the gallery lights. She stared at Damian as if he were just another overly enthusiastic admirer of her paintings.

"I’m sorry?" Sheina arched an eyebrow. "I am not Camila. Do you have the wrong person, Mr. Xavier?"

Damian stepped forward; they were now only an arm’s length apart. The faint scent of jasmine—the same scent that always lingered on his wife’s body—assaulted his senses.

"Don’t play games with me. I know it’s you. How is it possible that you’re still alive? And how can you be here?"

Sheina laughed—an elegant laugh that felt like a razor blade slicing through skin.

"Mr. Xavier, I’ve often heard that the wealthy of Manhattan tend to have delusions of grandeur, but I didn't expect you to suffer from facial delusions as well. My name is Sheina Blake. I was born and raised on the outskirts of London. If you are looking for your ex-wife or an old flame, I suggest you look elsewhere, not in my gallery."

"You’re lying!" Damian reached out and grabbed Sheina’s wrist quickly.

However, before his fingers could tighten their grip, Julian Thorne roughly brushed Damian’s hand away. Julian stood in front of Sheina, shielding her, glaring at Damian with the fury of a protector.

"Watch your manners, Xavier! You are in London, not your personal kingdom. Touching Ms. Blake without permission is an act that could have you dragged out of here by security," Julian hissed.

Damian ignored Julian. His eyes remained locked on Sheina’s. He searched for a flicker of fear, for even a single drop of hesitation. But all he found was a pair of eyes that were cold, clear, and filled with pure disgust.

"Mommy... why is this man so mean?"

The small voice made Damian flinch. He looked down and saw Leo hiding behind Sheina’s silk dress, clutching the fabric tightly while staring at Damian with large, round eyes.

Damian’s heart felt as if it were being squeezed. Those eyes... they were his eyes. The line of those eyebrows, the shape of those lips...

"This child..." Damian knelt to be at eye level with Leo, his voice trembling violently. "How old is he, Sheina?"

Sheina stroked Leo’s hair calmly, her eyes fixed on Damian without expression.

"Leo is four years old. He is the son of myself and my late husband, a British sailor who was lost at sea a few years ago. Why? Are you going to claim my son as yours too, because of a 'resemblance'?"

Damian was rendered speechless. Four years? If Camila had been pregnant when he threw her out five years ago, the child would be four years and a few months old now. His logic was running wild.

"I never knew you were pregnant..." Damian groaned, more to himself than anyone else.

Sheina looked at Damian with a look of utter disdain. "Mr. Xavier, you seem to be suffering from a serious mental breakdown. Perhaps the death of your sister truly shattered your sanity. Julian, please call security. I feel uncomfortable with this particular guest."

"Wait!" Damian stood back up, his breath hitching. "If you aren't her, show me your lower left arm. Camila had a small scar from a piece of broken glass when she was a child. Show it to me!"

Sheina stared at Damian for a moment, then she slowly lifted her lower left arm, which was covered by an elegant black lace glove. She peeled the glove off slowly, as if performing a dramatic act to torture Damian.

As her smooth white skin was exposed, Damian froze.

There was no scar. The skin was clear, flawless, and perfect.

"Is that enough?" Sheina asked coldly as she put her glove back on. "Or would you like me to strip here to prove that I am not the woman named Camila you speak of?"

Damian took a step back, his face deathly pale. Is it possible I’m truly wrong?

Could my guilt be creating this illusion? he thought. Yet his heart kept screaming that this woman was his wife.

"I will prove it," Damian said in a heavy voice full of both threat and desperation. "I will find out who you really are, Sheina Blake."

Sheina smiled, and this time her smile looked almost pitying. "By all means, Mr. Xavier. Spend your money on that. Meanwhile, I will continue to create works that remind the world how fragile people like you truly are."

Sheina turned, took Leo’s hand, and walked away toward the crowd of other guests without looking back once.

Damian stood frozen in the middle of the gallery, surrounded by paintings that seemed to be mocking him. He felt like a man drowning in the middle of the ocean, and the woman who had just left was the only lifebuoy—the one that was instead pushing his head deeper under the water.

"Mark," Damian called out without taking his eyes off Sheina’s back.

"Ya, Sir?"

"Find out everything about Sheina Blake. From the day she was born to that husband who is supposedly dead. And I want a DNA sample from that boy."