Chapter 4 Chapter 4

Heather Smith POV:

The car was stuffy, smelling of old leather and something cloying, sweet. Krystal Peck sat beside me, her expression a mask of concerned pity. It was a flawless performance, meant for anyone who might be watching, but her eyes, when they met mine, held a chilling triumph.

"Oh, Heather, darling," she cooed, her hand reaching out, then hesitating, as if contaminated by my touch. "You must be so traumatized. But don't worry, Derek sent me. He wants to make sure you're taken care of."

Her neck. I couldn't help but stare. A fresh hickey, dark and undeniable, bloomed just beneath her ear. The same neck I saw in the charity event picture, the one broadcasting their shared success. The same neck that had been caressed by the man who was supposed to be my fiancé.

A bitter laugh escaped my lips. "Taken care of? Is that what this is?"

She sighed, a theatrical display of patience. "Now, now, let's not be dramatic. You' ve had a rough time. But there are things you need to understand. Things about why your family didn't rush to your aid, why Derek... well, why he seemed so distant."

My breath hitched. "My family? What are you talking about?"

Her smile widened, a predatory glint in her eyes. "Oh, Heather. Didn't you wonder why your doting parents, who would move heaven and earth for you, suddenly vanished? Why Derek, the man who adored you, suddenly seemed to put business first?"

She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "It turns out, Heather, you weren't exactly who you thought you were."

My blood ran cold. "What are you saying?"

"You're not a Smith. Not biologically, anyway." She savored the words, each syllable a poisoned dart. "You're a cuckoo in the nest. A switched baby. Your parents' real daughter... well, she died years ago. A tragic accident. They kept you because they loved you, of course, but you were always just a placeholder, weren' t you?"

The ground beneath me dissolved. My identity. My entire life. A lie.

"Derek found out. He got the DNA test results just days before your kidnapping. He couldn't go through with the wedding, knowing you weren't truly a part of the family he was marrying into. He was trying to protect himself, and the Smith legacy."

A cold, hard knot formed in my stomach. The DNA test. The revelation. My parents, who had always been so loving, so present. They had fled. They had abandoned me, not just to the kidnappers, but to this crushing truth.

"He told your parents," Krystal continued, her voice devoid of sympathy. "Showed them the proof. It shattered them. Discovering their biological daughter was long dead, and the one they raised wasn't theirs... it was too much. They couldn't face you. Or anyone. So they left. They poured all their remaining assets into a trust for you, a final act of complicated love, and left it to Derek to manage. To look after you."

The truth hit me like a physical blow. My parents hadn' t just abandoned me to the kidnappers. They had abandoned me, full stop. They couldn't bear the truth, couldn't reconcile the life they thought they had with the one that was revealed. The money, it wasn't a ransom. It was a severance package.

And Derek. He had used that information. He had presented it to my parents, knowing full well the devastating consequences. He had taken their final, desperate attempt to care for me, their 80 million dollars, and folded it into his own burgeoning empire. He hadn't just invested the ransom. He had invested my family, my identity, my future.

While I was being tormented, beaten, starved, Derek Garcia, the man I loved, was rising to unimaginable heights. He was becoming a legend in the business world, a visionary who turned a crisis into an opportunity. And I was the crisis. I was the opportunity.

I drained of every single tear. My well of grief was dry. There was nothing left but numb, hollow despair. I was a fraud. A discarded relic.

The car stopped. We were back at Derek' s lavish penthouse.

He stood in the doorway, silhouetted against the bright city lights. I couldn't see his expression, but I saw the glint of something around his neck. A pendant. The male version of my silver vine design. Worn by Krystal. Worn by him.

"Heather," he said, his voice surprisingly soft. "I won't abandon you. Even after all this." He gestured vaguely at my bruised body. "But you need to understand. You have no one else. No family. No home. You need to be smart. You need to be... obedient."

Obedient.

I stared at him, the man who had been my entire world. Everyone around me-the doctors, the police, even the sympathetic passersby-had whispered about his "generosity," his "undying love" to take me in after everything. They saw his offer as an act of compassion.

But I knew better. It wasn't love. It was a threat. It was control. I was a caged bird, my wings clipped, my nest destroyed. My fate was entirely in his hands.

Fear, cold and paralyzing, wrapped around me. I had nowhere to go. Nothing to fall back on. My identity, my family, my future-all stripped away. I was utterly, terrifyingly alone.

So I nodded. A small, almost imperceptible nod. I would be obedient. I would learn to be smart. I would survive.