looked toward the warm SUV where Dr. Cross was settling the twins. They were still mine. I had bled for them, carried them, loved them in the dark hours of the night. Biology didn’t change the fierce, maternal fire burning in my chest.
“You stole my body, Vivian,” I said, my voice dropping to a lethal whisper. “But Conrad is only half the equation. Where did the egg come from?”
Vivian’s eyes darted toward the shadows. She remained stubbornly, terrifiedly silent.
Nora pointed to a specific page in the binder. “Look at the donor registry, Evelyn. It wasn’t an anonymous egg. Dr. Selwyn tried to wipe the records, but I kept the hard copy.”
I looked down. My eyes scanned the typed name of the female genetic donor.
Donor: Vale, Celeste.
The binder nearly slipped from my grasp.
Celeste. My older half-sister.
The sister my mother told me had died
in a tragic car accident when I was only five years old. The sister whose face I had only seen in fading, hidden photographs.
“She’s dead,” I whispered, looking at Vivian. “Celeste died twenty years ago.”
Vivian let out a sharp, hysterical laugh, the sound grating like rusted metal. “Did she, Evelyn? Did she really?”
“Where is she?” I demanded, closing the distance between Vivian and me. My security guards tensed, ready to intercept, but I waved them off. “What did you do to my sister?”
Vivian backed up the marble steps, her silk robe fluttering like a broken wing. The arrogance had entirely melted away, replaced by the cornered panic of a rat.
“Conrad knew,” Vivian spat, gesturing wildly. “Conrad knew the Harrington fortune was built on a house of cards. He knew I would try to seize it when he died. So, he locked the real wealth away.”
