Chapter 385

The private investigator had barely left when Evelyn Sinclair found herself still seated, her gaze fixed on the now-cold cup of coffee before her.

She pinched her arm sharply. The pain was real. Her eyes darted back to the stack of documents on the table. There was no denying it anymore - this nightmare was actually happening.

For years, she'd lived as Genevieve Prescott's beloved daughter. The sole heiress to the Prescott fortune. Never once had she imagined the real Prescott daughter might still be alive... and possibly returning to claim what was rightfully hers.

Dominic Blackwood's face flashed through her mind. She squeezed her eyes shut against the wave of anguish.

Her love for that man ran deeper than the ocean. If only he'd shown her even a fraction of the affection she craved.

Olivia Kensington.

A twisted smile curled Evelyn's lips.

Dominic was utterly obsessed with that nobody from nowhere. If Olivia turned out to be Jonathan and Genevieve's biological daughter... if the truth ever came out... Genevieve would shower all her love and attention on Olivia instead.

She'd be discarded like yesterday's trash.

The thought made Evelyn's blood run cold. "Over my dead body," she whispered viciously.

Prescott Manor.

Evelyn arrived home to find her mother absent from her usual spots. Remembering Genevieve's yoga schedule, she headed straight for the sunlit studio.

There she was - Genevieve Prescott in her element.

Nearly fifty but with the complexion of a woman half her age. Time seemed to have frozen for her flawless beauty.

Dressed in pristine white yoga wear that hugged her toned figure, Genevieve moved through advanced poses with effortless grace.

Evelyn couldn't help but marvel. Without knowing her true age, anyone would assume this elegant noblewoman was barely thirty.

"Mother," Evelyn cooed, her voice dripping with honey. "You're defying time itself. Other women age, but you? You're becoming more radiant by the day."

Genevieve's serene expression softened at the sound of her daughter's voice. "Always knowing just what to say, darling. Rough day at work?"

"Not at all, Mother." Evelyn tucked a stray lock behind her ear. "Actually, I've just been cast as the lead in that medieval fantasy film you loved..."

"My brilliant girl." Genevieve sighed wistfully. "I always dreamed of acting, you know. Seeing you live that dream for me... it's everything."

Evelyn unrolled a mat beside her mother, mirroring her poses. She caught the hopeful glint in Genevieve's eye and pressed her lips together. A shadow crossed her delicate features. "Though... my recent projects haven't been well received. I've disappointed you."

Genevieve pinched her daughter's cheek affectionately. "Nonsense, darling. I have no expectations about your career. Act as long as it brings you joy. When you're ready, you can join the family business. Or simply stay home and let me spoil you rotten."

"You're too good to me, Mother." Evelyn's voice trembled with emotion. "Promise you'll always love me this much?"

"Of course, my precious girl." Genevieve's smile was beatific. "You're my only daughter. Who else would I lavish with love?"

Evelyn nearly blurted out the question burning in her throat: Would you still love me if your real daughter returned?

She swallowed the words like bitter poison.

Rising gracefully, Evelyn produced a silk handkerchief and dabbed at Genevieve's glistening forehead. "You must be parched after your session, Mother. Let me fetch your favorite floral tea."

As Genevieve closed her eyes in relaxation, Evelyn's fingers deftly plucked two loose strands of silver-blonde hair from the yoga mat. She concealed them in her handkerchief with practiced ease.

Her expression darkened as she pocketed the precious strands.

Now she just needed Olivia's DNA sample.

If the test confirmed Olivia was Genevieve's biological daughter...

Then God help you, Olivia Kensington, Evelyn thought with venomous intensity.

T Corporation.

Evelyn had just emailed her presentation to Yvonne Blackwell when she heard retching sounds from the next cubicle.

Abigail Thornton looked positively green. "Are you ill?" Evelyn asked with genuine concern.

"Just... urgh... morning sickness. I'm fine... URK!"

Abigail barely made it to the restroom in time.

Evelyn followed, hovering anxiously outside the stall.

When Abigail emerged, her usually impeccable curls were disheveled, her complexion ashen. Evelyn handed her a tissue. "You should see a doctor."

"Probably just food poisoning," Abigail rasped.

Evelyn frowned. "This looks more serious than indigestion."

Then it hit her - the symptoms were painfully familiar. She'd experienced them herself while pregnant with Alexander and Isabella.

"Abigail..." Evelyn hesitated. "Could you be... pregnant?"

Abigail's bloodshot eyes widened comically. "That's impossible!" Her voice cracked with panic.