Chapter 4

"Ma'am... what should we do with the other child?" I asked meekly before we departed.

Elena spat in disgust.

"That child? She's the spawn of an animal! Serena Vance that dead whore—even from beyond the grave, she tried to ruin us!"

"I'm showing mercy just by not drowning the little brat. Dump her back in an orphanage and tell the director to make her life miserable!"

Marcus, however, spoke in a quiet, detached voice.

"She's dead and buried, Elena. It's just a child. Don't let it work you up."

"Find a decent foster home for her."

Elena wanted to protest, but I gently squeezed her hand from behind while tucking the blanket around the "real" heiress.

She swallowed her grievances and pulled the newly recovered child tighter against her chest, choking back a sob:

"My sweet angel. No one will ever hurt you again. Mommy won't let you suffer another day..."

Once the true daughter was brought home to the Sterling estate, Marcus and Elena showered her with unimaginable luxury. Mansions, luxury cars, trust funds, and company shares were signed over to her name in endless streams.

I stayed by her side, watching her grow day by day.

Yet Elena never let go of her hatred for the fake heiress. Behind Marcus's back, she paid people to ensure the child was "taken care of" in the worst ways possible.

On the day of the true heiress's first birthday, the Sterling manor blazed with glittering chandeliers.

I stood behind Marcus and Elena, holding the well-behaved birthday girl in my arms.

The little girl wasn't shy at all, happily babbling:

"Daddy. Mommy."

Her sweet voice melted both their hearts.

Elena took the baby into her arms, refusing to let go.

"Yes, my darling girl, Mommy's right here."

The family of three was just about to cut the towering cake together, and the high-society guests were raising their glasses as the celebration reached its peak.

Suddenly, Martha burst through the heavy double doors of the banquet hall.

She screamed at the top of her lungs:

"Serena Vance! I knew you weren't dead!"

Martha rushed toward the stage like a madwoman before security tackled her to the floor.

Still, she shrieked at the ceiling:

"She's a demon! She planted that fake baby in your home just to get her revenge!"

"Mr. Sterling! Mrs. Sterling! Wake up!"

The entire ballroom fell into a stunned, pin-drop silence.

The name *Serena Vance* was like a slap across the face.

Elena whipped her head around, glaring at me with wide, horrified eyes. The silver cake knife slipped from her fingers, clattering loudly against the marble floor.

Marcus's expression morphed instantly into something cold and lethal.

Ignoring the hundreds of elite guests, he ordered his men to drag Martha and me down to the basement.

Down in the concrete cellar, Martha's head was still wrapped in bloody bandages. Looking utterly unhinged, she pulled a crumpled stack of documents from her coat and slammed them on the ground.

"She's not Julie Adams! That small-town background is complete bullshit!"

"And worst of all, that baby isn't yours, Mr. Sterling! She's a bastard Serena dragged in from god knows where! Here is the DNA report—black and white proof! Let's see you lie your way out of this one!"

The report fluttered to my feet. The conclusion was printed in bold, undeniable letters:

[The probability of biological parentage between the tested parties is 0.00%.]

Marcus and Elena's faces drained of color.

Even if I had an explanation for everything else, the fact that the beloved heiress wasn't biologically related to Marcus was an unforgivable offense. It was a death sentence.

Before Elena could even scream or raise a hand against me, Marcus drew a sleek handgun from his assistant's holster.

He pressed the cold barrel directly against my forehead.

Click.

The safety was off.

A single squeeze of his finger, and my skull would be blown apart. My daughter would be cast aside as an orphan once more, doomed to a life of misery.

"Any last words?" Marcus hissed.

I didn't look at the gun.

I simply looked down, turning the page of the DNA report to confirm the details.

In that moment, I knew I was safe.

Above me, Marcus let out a soft, mocking chuckle.

"Serena Vance..."

"You really are an idiot, aren't you? Did you honestly think you could fool me with this?"

BANG!

The gunshot echoed deafeningly off the concrete walls.

But I wasn't the one who fell.

It was Martha.

Her eyes bulged wide, a gaping red hole dead center between her brows. Her body collapsed stiffly to the floor, staring at nothing.

Elena was scared out of her mind. Pointing at me, she screamed:

"Why?!"

"Marcus! She's the one you were supposed to shoot!"