Chapter 4

The heavy ballroom doors swung open before Nathan could process her words.

A tall man in his late sixties walked into the room. He wore a tailored charcoal suit that looked expensive, but his face carried the rugged, weather-beaten lines of a man who had lived a hard life.

He leaned slightly on a silver-tipped cane.

I felt the breath leave my lungs.

It was Marcus Vance.

I hadn’t seen him in thirty years. Not since the night he abandoned my sister, leaving her pregnant and penniless in a motel room.

My sister, who died giving birth to Rebecca.

“Hello, Eleanor,” Marcus said, his voice a low, gravelly rumble. He didn’t look at Nathan. He looked directly at me. “You’ve aged well.”

My hands began to shake. “You have no right to be here.”

Nathan stepped in front of me, his tall frame blocking Marcus’s path. “Who are you, and how did you get past my security?”

“I’m the man who holds the deed to this house, Mr. Sterling,” Marcus said smoothly. He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a folded legal document. He tossed it onto the engagement table.

It landed next to the ruined wedding dress.

Nathan picked it up. His eyes scanned the legal jargon, and I watched the blood drain from his face.

“This is a transfer of ownership,” Nathan said slowly. “Dated three years ago. Signed by Rebecca.”

“Not forged this time,” Marcus smiled, leaning on his cane. “Rebecca transferred her fifty-percent stake in the Sterling Estate, and the deed to this property, to me. Her biological father.”

“Rebecca hated you,” I said, my voice cracking with suppressed rage. “She knew what you did to her mother. She would never give you a dime.”

Marcus clicked his tongue. “People do strange things when they are desperate, Eleanor. Rebecca found out she was dying. She wanted to secure her daughter’s future.”

“I have billions,” Nathan growled. “Sophie’s future is secure.”

“Ah, but Rebecca didn’t trust you, Nathan,” Marcus said, a cruel smirk playing on his lips. “She knew about your little affair.”

The ballroom went dead silent.

Sophie looked up at her father. “Dad?”

Nathan looked like he had been struck by lightning. “I never had an affair.”

“Really?” Marcus asked. He pointed his cane at Delaney, who was standing quietly by the wall now, a smug look replacing her panic. “Then why did Rebecca pawn that gold watch to pay Delaney two hundred thousand dollars? Hush money, Nathan. To keep Delaney quiet about what you two were doing while Rebecca was sick.”

“That’s a lie!” Nathan shouted, his composure finally breaking. “Delaney was her therapist! I never touched her until a year after Rebecca died!”

Delaney stepped forward, her eyes bright with malice. “He’s lying, Marcus. Nathan and I have been involved for four years. Rebecca found out. She pawned the watch to pay me to leave. But when she realized she was dying, she knew Nathan would just bring me back to raise Sophie. So she transferred her assets to you, Marcus. To protect Sophie from us.”

It was a brilliant, horrifying trap.

They had used Rebecca’s illness, forged documents, and twisted the timeline to frame Nathan. If Marcus held the deed, he could evict Nathan and Sophie tonight.

Nathan looked at the deed in his hands. He looked at the signature.

“It’s her real signature,” Nathan whispered to me, despair edging into his voice. “It’s notarized.”

I looked down at the ivory wedding dress on the chair.

My fingers traced the ripped lace Delaney had callously torn away.

Then, I remembered the blue stitches.

“Rebecca knew she was losing her memory,” I said loudly. “She knew you were confusing her with papers, Delaney.”

I grabbed the silver sewing scissors from the floor.

“What are you doing?” Marcus demanded, stepping forward.

I ignored him. I pulled the heavy, multi-layered skirt of the wedding gown onto the table.

When I sewed the dress twelve years ago, I stitched a hidden pocket into the crinoline lining. It was a tradition in my family. Something borrowed, something blue, something hidden.

I drove the scissors into the thick silk and ripped the lining open.

Inside, stitched tightly in blue thread, was a small, waterproof pouch.

I pulled it out and handed it to Nathan.

“Rebecca didn’t trust you, Marcus,” I said. “And she certainly didn’t trust Delaney. She left this for Sophie.”

Nathan opened the pouch.

Inside was a small flash drive.

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