Chapter 3

Grace POV:

Dressed in a dark hoodie and jeans, I felt like a ghost haunting the edges of a life that should have been mine. I hid in the woods bordering the farm, the scent of pine and damp earth filling my lungs, a stark contrast to the sterile lies I'd been breathing for years.

Through the trees, I saw them. My parents, Robert and Catherine Miller, were there. They weren't grieving their lost adopted daughter; they were doting on their secret grandson. My mother was pushing Dylan on a swing, her face alight with a gentle joy I had so desperately craved my entire life.

A memory, sharp and painful, surfaced. Last year, I had asked my mother if she would help me plant a small rose garden in our backyard. It was something I'd always dreamed of. She had brushed me off with a sigh. "Oh, Grace, I'm just too busy with the foundation's work. Maybe next year."

But she wasn't too busy for Dylan. She had all the time in the world for him.

It wasn't that she couldn't. It was that she wouldn't. Not for me.

The farm's housekeeper came out with a tray of lemonade, and her cheerful voice carried on the wind. "Mrs. Miller, you're a natural with him! He just adores his grandma."

"He's a true Miller, isn't he?" my mother replied, her voice thick with pride. "The spitting image of Caleb at that age."

The words struck me with the force of a physical blow. A true Miller. What did that make me? The placeholder? The convenient, talented daughter who could run the company until the real heir was old enough?

In that moment, I understood. I was an outsider. I had been found, brought home, and given a name, but I had never truly been let in. This was their family. I was just a temporary guest.

I watched as Caleb arrived, kissing Paige on the lips before scooping Dylan into his arms. He had missed so many of our anniversaries, so many birthdays, for "urgent business trips." Now I saw the truth. He wasn't missing my life; he was living his. With them.

The digital files on his laptop were damning, but a cold, practical voice in my head-the voice of a girl who had survived the system-whispered that it wasn't enough. Digital evidence could be deleted, denied, dismissed as a fabrication. I needed something more. Something tangible. Something happening in real-time that they could not possibly deny.

A scream built in my throat, a raw, primal sound of agony. I clamped my hands over my mouth, biting down on my knuckles to stifle it. I couldn't fall apart. Not here. Not yet.

Suddenly, the sound of a truck rumbling up the private road startled me. Headlights swept across the trees. I ducked behind a large oak, my heart leaping into my throat. The truck belonged to one of the farmhands. The immediate physical threat shocked me out of my emotional spiral, forcing a cold, sharp focus.

From my new hiding spot, I was closer. Too close. I could see the lines around Caleb's eyes as he smiled at Paige. I could see the way she rested her hand on his arm, a gesture of easy, familiar intimacy. They moved around each other with the unconscious grace of a couple who had spent years together.

Then I heard their voices, low and conspiratorial.

"The board meeting is next week," Paige was saying. "After that, once the new agricultural contracts are secured, we can finally move forward."

"I know," Caleb sighed. "It's just... Grace. I don't know how she'll take it."

"She's stronger than you think," Paige said, her tone dismissive. "She'll be upset, but she'll have to accept it. We can't live like this forever, Caleb. Dylan deserves to have his father full-time."

My blood ran cold. They were planning my disposal. I was an obstacle to be managed, a problem to be solved before they could have their happy ending.

Then came the words that shattered the last remaining fragments of my heart. Caleb pulled Paige closer, his voice a low murmur meant only for her.

"Don't worry," he said, stroking her hair. "I'll handle Grace. She'll never find out until we're ready. I promise."

That was it. The final betrayal, delivered in a lover's whisper.

My gaze darted around, frantic. I needed something. Something tangible. I saw it on the patio table next to Caleb's forgotten glass of lemonade. His phone. His *other* phone.

My mind went blank of everything but that one objective. I waited until they went inside, their laughter echoing behind them. With my heart pounding in my ears, I slipped from the trees, moving across the lawn like a shadow.

My fingers closed around the cool metal of the phone. My own was in my pocket, an identical model. It was a risk, a stupid one, but I didn't care. I swapped them.

As I turned to flee, the patio door slid open. Caleb stepped out, silhouetted against the warm light of the house. We were only a few feet apart. We nearly collided.

I froze, pulling the hood deeper over my face, my back to him.

"Who's there?" His voice was sharp, cutting through the evening quiet. He couldn't see my face, but he sensed something was wrong. His instincts, the ones he'd honed lying to me for years, were screaming at him.

He took a step closer, his shadow falling over me. I could feel his presence behind me, a suffocating weight. He was going to find me. It was all over.