 THE IMPOSSIBLE DNA MATCH
Marcus stared at the screen.
“That doesn’t make sense.”
Miller continued.
“Her DNA matches historical medical records connected to an infant born in this house thirty years ago.”
Marcus shook his head.
“No.”
“The child was officially recorded as deceased.”
Marcus stepped backward.
“No.”
Miller didn’t move.
“Mr. Vance, the records were falsified.”
Marcus gripped the edge of the burned desk.
His mind raced through memories he had buried for decades.
Evelyn.
The pregnancy.
His father’s anger.
The overseas trip.
The death certificate.
The funeral he had never attended because his father told him everything had been handled.
His entire life suddenly looked different.
“Where is Clara?” Marcus demanded.
“She was discharged from the hospital this morning.”
“Where?”
“She has been packing her belongings in the servants’ cottage.”
Marcus didn’t wait.
He ran.
The billionaire who could command hundreds of employees and move millions of dollars with a phone call was suddenly running across his own estate like a desperate father searching for a child he had lost thirty years ago.
 THE LOCKET
When Marcus reached the servants’ cottage, the door was already open.
Clara stood beside a small metal cot.
She was packing a faded blue sweater into an old canvas bag.
Her hands were wrapped in gauze from the burns she suffered saving Leo.
She looked up.
“Mr. Vance?”
Marcus couldn’t speak.
He stared at her face.
The eyes.
The shape of her jaw.
Something about her was painfully familiar.
Clara stepped backward.
“I was just leaving.”
“Clara…”
“I don’t want to cause trouble for your family.”
“You’re not.”
She looked confused.
“Then why are you here?”
Marcus swallowed.
“Who gave you the necklace?”
Clara immediately touched the silver locket around her neck.
“This?”
“Yes.”
“It was with me when I was found.”
“Where?”
“At the orphanage.”
Marcus’s eyes filled with tears.
“What did they tell you?”
“That it was the only thing I had.”
“Can I see it?”
Clara slowly removed the chain.
Marcus took the locket in his trembling hand.
He turned it over.
His breath caught.
Two sets of initials were engraved into the silver.
A.V. & E.V.
Arthur Vance.
Evelyn.
The two people who had been at the center of the secret he had spent thirty years believing was a tragedy.
Marcus closed his eyes.
A sob escaped his chest.
Clara stared at him.
“Mr. Vance?”
He looked at her.
And finally said the words that would change both their lives.
“You’re not a maid.”
Clara’s eyes widened.
“You’re my daughter.”
