Chapter 3

The next morning, I woke up to find a man sitting in the chair beside my hospital bed.

It wasn't Dominic.

It was his grandfather — Edward Ashford, 82 years old, sharp as a blade, and the only person in the Ashford family who had ever shown me kindness.

He was holding a cup of tea and watching me with sorrowful eyes.

"My dear girl," he said softly. "I am so sorry."

That single sentence undid me.

I broke down and cried — ugly, gasping sobs that I had been holding in since the night before.

Edward moved to the edge of my bed and held my hand. He didn't say anything. He just let me cry.

When I finally stopped, he handed me a handkerchief and spoke in a measured tone.

"I heard what happened. All of it. And I need you to know — I did not raise my grandson to be this kind of man."

"He's always been this kind of man," I whispered. "I was just too foolish to see it."

Edward shook his head. "You were never foolish, Elara. You were kind. There's a difference."

He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out an envelope.

"I had my lawyer draw this up this morning. It's a divorce settlement — separate from whatever Dominic offers you."

I opened it and my hands trembled.

Inside was a property deed, a trust fund, and a letter of recommendation to one of the top medical schools in the country.

"Edward, I can't accept this—"

"You can, and you will." His tone left no room for argument. "You spent three years caring for my grandson and this family. You lost a child because of his negligence. This is the least I can do."

I stared at the documents, overwhelmed.

"There's something else." Edward hesitated, then pulled out a second envelope. "This arrived at my office last week. I had it verified."

I opened it.

Inside was a DNA report — and a photograph of a woman I had never seen before.

No. That wasn't true.

I had seen her. In the mirror. Every day.

The woman in the photograph looked exactly like an older version of me.

"Her name was Catherine Laurent," Edward said carefully. "She was the eldest daughter of the Laurent family — one of the oldest and wealthiest families in Europe."

My heart began to pound.

"Twenty-six years ago, Catherine's daughter was kidnapped and never found. The family spent a fortune searching but eventually gave up."

He looked at me with an expression I couldn't decipher.

"Elara, the DNA test confirms it. You are Catherine's daughter. You are the missing Laurent heiress."

The room spun.

I — the orphan, the nobody, the disposable contract wife — was an heiress?

Before I could respond, the door burst open.

Dominic stood in the doorway, his face dark with fury.

"Grandfather, what the hell are you doing here?"

His gaze swept from Edward to me, then to the documents scattered on the bed.

When he saw the divorce settlement, his expression twisted.

"You went behind my back?"

Edward stood slowly, leaning on his cane.

"No, Dominic. I went ahead of you. Because you clearly lack the decency to do what's right."

Dominic's eyes locked onto mine.

And for the first time, I saw something I had never seen before.

Fear.