Chapter 3
She held his gaze, and a strength born only of motherhood appeared in her eyes.
"I don't expect anything from you. But these are my daughters."
There was such silence that even the musicians could no longer decide whether to play or not.
And at that moment another voice sounded.
— People.
The woman walking down the stairs looked like she had stepped out of a torn photograph and become flesh.
Sandra's heart sank.
The same lip line.
The same cheekbones.
The same look.
That same half of her face that she had kept in a tin box all these years.
The woman descended slowly in a silver dress, her hand brushing the railing. Her beauty had become colder, sharper—polished by wealth and calculation. But there was no doubt.
It was her.
The woman from the photograph.
Eli spun around, barely keeping his feet.
"Vivian?"
The name sounded in the hall like a dry crack, cutting through the silence.
The guests began to exchange glances. A whisper was heard somewhere:
"Didn't she die?"
Vivian smiled slightly, but her smile was cold, devoid of life.
“I didn’t die. I just… disappeared.”
Sandra felt her legs buckle.
For the first time, Layla pressed herself against her, hiding behind the folds of her skirt.
Aria stared at Vivian, unblinking, in mute amazement.
Eli's gaze darted between the woman and the girls, as if what was happening were madness suddenly given form.
"How did you end up here?"
Vivian's eyes settled on the twins, and for a moment her composure faltered. Something wild and desperate flashed across her expression.
“Because…” she said quietly, “Ayla was never your wife.”
The words sounded like a blow.
Sandra noticed Eli's face turn white.
A murmur swept through the room, but Vivian continued, her every word cold and heavy.
“My sister married you under my name,” she said. “Our father was drowning in debts he couldn’t cover, and your council needed a Hawthorne heir to complete the deal. They wanted me. I fled. She stayed. She took my place… and my name.”
Eli looked at her as if reality itself had changed.
“Do you understand what you’re saying?”
Tears glistened in Vivian's eyes, but there was no innocence in them - only tension and fear of exposure.
"The fire was deliberate. Your CFO did it. He found out the girls were alive and hadn't yet been officially registered under Ayla's false identity. If it had been revealed, the merger would have collapsed, the inheritance would have crumbled, and half the empire would have been a sham. He took the twins before the fire could get going. I found out too late."
Eli opened his mouth, but couldn't utter a word.
Sandra felt her hands trembling as they rested on the girls' shoulders.
“I followed him,” Vivian continued, her voice beginning to break. “I tried to stop him. He handed me the basket and said that if I wanted the girls to live, I had to disappear and stay silent. He promised to leave them where they had a chance to survive.” She glanced at Sandra. “But I came back. I looked for them in that alley. The basket was gone.”
Sandra's heart sank painfully.
"So you were the one who left the photo."
Vivian nodded.
"I tore it apart, trying to hide it in the blanket before anyone noticed."
Eli took a step back, as if the ground beneath him had become unsteady.
“You allowed me to mourn my children as dead.”
"I was sure they were dead!" Vivian cried. "I lived with that thought for years. And when I found out it might not be true, it was too late. He had proof—documents, records, everything that confirmed the fake marriage and the identity theft. He controlled us all."
"Controlled?" Eli's voice became harsh. "Where is he?"
There was no answer; instead, there was a slow, measured applause.
Everyone turned around.
An elderly man in a perfectly tailored tuxedo emerged from the shadows near the orchestra. His face expressed bored calm. Graham Pearce, CFO of Ashford Biolabs. Silver hair, impeccable posture, dangerous reserve.
"How awkward," he said evenly. "I was planning on putting this off until later this evening."
The guards moved towards him, but he raised his hand.
"Careful," he said. "A message has already been sent that will be distributed to all the major financial publications. Documents, records, genetic data, property fraud, identity theft—a formidable collection. Touch me, and Ashford Biolabs will collapse by midnight."
Eli's face became stony and frightening.
"These girls," Graham continued, looking at Aria and Lila, "were never a problem for me. They were a tool. And the woman who found them..." He glanced at Sandra with a slight smile, "was an unforeseen circumstance."
Sandra hugged the twins.
"Don't come any closer."
