Chapter 5

The sound of the phone dropping echoed in the silent boardroom. Brigham Conway stared at nothing, his face ashen. The words from the doctor repeated in his mind, a deafening mantra.

She's the one. She's Eloise. She's your father's daughter.

His phone was on speaker. Everyone had heard. His father, Denton, who had been reviewing quarterly reports. His mother, Alicia, who was planning the wedding seating chart. And Eve, his fiancée, who was sitting right next to him.

"Brigham?" Eve's voice was a small, high-pitched query. "What was that? What did he mean?"

Denton looked up from his papers, his brow furrowed. "What's this about a DNA test?"

Alicia stood up, her face a mask of confusion. "Brigham, who was that?"

Brigham didn't answer. He felt like the floor had dropped out from under him. The homeless woman. The scars. The tattoo. The eyes that had pleaded with him.

Eloise.

It was her. He had looked his former love, his stepsister, in the face and called her filth. He had ordered her to be thrown out like trash.

The full weight of it hit him. The acid. The crushed hand. The severed vocal cords. Someone had done that to her. And he had done nothing.

Eve's face was pale. She was trying to maintain her composure, but a flicker of panic was in her eyes. "It must be a mistake. A prank. The test was done two years ago. I'm your daughter, Daddy." She turned to Denton, her voice trembling.

Denton looked from Eve to Brigham, his expression hardening. "Brigham, explain yourself. What is going on?"

"The woman," Brigham said, his voice a hoarse whisper. "The homeless woman from the other night. I had my assistant find her. I had the doctor run a test." He couldn't look at them. He could only stare at his hands on the polished mahogany table. "He said... he said the original test was a fake."

"That's impossible!" Alicia gasped, putting a hand to her chest. "The lab was the best in the country!"

"No..." Eve whispered, shaking her head. "No, he's lying. Why would he lie?"

Brigham finally looked up, his eyes locking onto Eve's. He saw it then. The terror behind the mask of innocence. The guilt.

"Why, Eve?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous. "Why would you do it?"

"Do what?" she cried, tears welling in her eyes. "I didn't do anything! I'm the victim here! Remember? Eloise attacked me! She stole from us!"

"The Eloise I knew would never have become that," Brigham said, the pieces clicking into place with horrifying clarity. "She was proud. She was a fighter. Someone had to break her. Someone had to destroy her completely."

His gaze was relentless. "Someone like you."

The memory of Eve's story from two years ago surfaced. She claimed Eloise had fled to Europe. She had even produced credit card statements showing lavish spending in Paris and Rome.

"The credit cards," Brigham said aloud. "We never saw her face on any security footage. Just transactions. Anyone could have used them."

"Brigham, stop it!" Alicia cried. "You're upsetting Eve! She's your fiancée! She's carrying your child!"

The mention of the baby, the supposed heir to the Conway dynasty, gave Eve a surge of confidence. She straightened up, placing a protective hand on her still-flat stomach.

"He's right, Brigham. You're scaring me. And it's not good for the baby."

But Brigham wasn't listening. He was remembering the alley. The desperate look in Eloise's eyes. The way she had flinched when he spoke. The raw, animal pain. He had seen it, and he had chosen to ignore it. He had chosen the easier truth. He had chosen Eve.

A wave of self-loathing so powerful it made him physically sick washed over him. He was just as guilty as the person who had wielded the acid and the hammer. He had abandoned her.

He picked up his fallen phone. Mark's voice was tinny and frantic.

"Sir? Sir, are you there? There's a problem. She's gone. The woman... Eloise... she left the clinic. No one saw her go."

A cold dread, worse than anything he had ever felt, seized him.

"Find her," he commanded, his voice shaking with a new urgency. "Use every resource we have. Check her credit cards, her phone... wait, she has nothing. Check the city shelters, the hospitals. Now, Mark. Find her now!"

He hung up and stood, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. He looked at his family, at the life he had built on a foundation of lies.

"This meeting is over," he said. He looked at Eve, his eyes full of a cold fury she had never seen before. "We're not done. You and I are going to have a talk when I get back."

He strode out of the room, leaving a stunned silence in his wake.

Denton slowly sank back into his chair, his face pale. "Alicia... what if it's true?"

Alicia wrung her hands. "It can't be. Denton, think of the scandal. Think of the company."

Eve was silently crying, her carefully constructed world crumbling around her. But beneath the tears, her mind was racing, searching for a new lie, a new escape. She was a survivor. She wouldn't let them take this away from her. Not now.

Brigham was already in the elevator, his mind a chaotic storm of guilt and fear. Where would she go? A woman with nothing, broken and alone. Where does someone go when they've lost everything?

He thought of the bridge they used to walk across at night, looking at the lights of the city they thought they owned.

Please, El, he prayed to a god he didn't believe in. Please be alive.