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The Bentley mansion was even more imposing in person. I stood at the wrought-iron gates, my heart pounding a nervous rhythm against my ribs. What if they didn't believe me? What if they threw me out?
A kind-faced, older woman, the housekeeper, let me in. She led me to a sunlit parlor where a woman with familiar eyes-my eyes-was arranging flowers. This had to be her. My mother.
"Mrs. Bentley?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper.
She looked up, her hands stilling. There was a flicker of recognition in her gaze, a deep, maternal sorrow that seemed to see right through me. "Yes?"
"I... I think I'm your daughter," I blurted out, the words clumsy and raw. "I want a DNA test."
Her face went pale. The vase of flowers slipped from her grasp, shattering on the polished floor.
Before she could respond, a cold, authoritative voice cut through the air. "What is the meaning of this?"
Buster Bentley stood in the doorway, his face a mask of cold pragmatism. He looked me up and down, his gaze dismissive. "I have only one daughter, and her name is Kiersten."
His words were like a slap. He knew. He had to know.
"The Wolfe-Bentley merger is in two weeks," he continued, his voice like ice. "I will not have some gold-digging orphan disrupting things."
Just then, the front door opened, and the two people I least wanted to see walked in. Damien and Kiersten, looking like the perfect, happy couple.
Buster's entire demeanor changed. He beamed, walking forward to greet them. "Damien! Kiersten! So glad you could make it."
My hope shriveled and died. I was an inconvenience, a threat to his business deal.
"What is she doing here?" Damien's voice was sharp, his eyes fixed on me with annoyance.
"I came to find my parents," I said, my voice shaking but firm.
Damien and Buster exchanged a look of fury. But Kiersten, the master manipulator, burst into tears.
"Oh, this is all my fault," she sobbed, clinging to Damien's arm. "I should just leave. I can't bear to be the cause of so much trouble."
"Don't be ridiculous," Damien said, pulling her close.
"I only have one daughter, and that is you, Kiersten," Buster declared, glaring at me.
Damien echoed him. "Kiersten is the only Bentley heiress."
The scene was so absurdly cruel that a bitter laugh escaped my lips. "So you're all just going to stand there and lie?" I asked, looking directly at Damien. "You know the truth."
For a split second, I saw a flicker of something in his eyes-guilt, maybe. But it vanished as quickly as it came.
"I don't know what you're talking about," he said, his voice cold. "This is all for Kiersten's sake."
"Kiersten's sake?" I scoffed. "She has a family, a fortune, a fiancé. I'm the one with nothing!"
Damien's face went pale. He had no response.
Kiersten, seeing her chance, made a show of running out of the room, crying, "I'm leaving! I can't do this anymore!"
She ran toward the back of the house, toward the large, ornate swimming pool.
"Kiersten!" Damien yelled, chasing after her.
I don't know what possessed me, but I ran after them. I had to get away from this house of lies. As I reached the edge of the pool, Kiersten suddenly stopped and turned.
"He's mine," she hissed, her face twisted with malice. She shoved me.
I lost my balance on the wet tiles. My arms flailed, and I grabbed onto her, pulling her down with me.
We hit the cold water with a splash that stole my breath. Panic seized me. A childhood trauma, a near-drowning incident at a foster home, rushed back. My limbs froze. I couldn't swim. I couldn't fight. I was sinking.
Through the distorted blue of the water, I saw Damien dive in. He swam right past me, his eyes only on Kiersten. He pulled her to the surface, cradling her in his arms as she coughed and sputtered.
He got her to the edge of the pool, and only then, as if an afterthought, did he seem to remember me.
His eyes widened in horror. "Ella!"
He dove back in.
But it was too late. The water filled my lungs. The world went dark. My last thought was of his face as he chose her over me. Again.