Chris sat in his study at Romero, the city lights glowing cold through the glass. Elliot laid a slim file on the desk, his jaw tight.
"We dug deeper into Arabella," Elliot said. "The records were doctored. She was never Thelma's by birth. She was adopted nine months ago."
Chris froze, his knuckles white against the desk. He opened the file. The papers showed falsified dates, signatures from an orphanage, and Cindy Frederick's name inked on every line.
"Nine months..." he muttered, his throat burning. That was exactly when Bella's life had been ripped apart. The scandal, the video, the engagement announcement.
"They used her," Elliot continued. "They pulled her out, made her the face of Thelma's lie, and pushed the narrative that she was yours. Thelma bought journalists, Cindy paid off the orphanage, and Cassandra swallowed it whole."
Chris's stomach twisted. He had suspected corruption, but seeing it laid bare made his rage dangerous.
"I ran tests myself," Chris said, his voice shaking. "I used different labs, seven of them. Arabella is my blood, Elliot. That girl is mine."
Elliot's eyes narrowed. "Then the question is, if she was adopted eight months ago... who gave birth to her?"
Chris leaned back, staring at the ceiling, his chest heaving. The Fredericks had stolen a child, his child, to shackle him. And if Arabella wasn't Thelma's, then somewhere out there, her real mother was alive.
And Chris was beginning to fear the answer his mind whispered.
"Find the orphanage director," he ordered. His voice was sharp as glass. "Find every file, every payment, every record Cindy touched. Bring me the truth."
Elliot nodded once and left.
Chris sat alone, fists trembling. "If she's mine... who carried her?"
Meanwhile, Bella sat with Vera in the quiet of Romero's safe suite. Jessy lay asleep in his crib, his tiny chest rising and falling. Bella's thoughts wouldn't rest.
Alexis's warnings about Lilian replayed in her mind. The fake smiles. The small digs. The night Lilian had urged her to drink, to let her guard down.
"She tried to ruin me," Bella whispered, trembling.
Vera touched her hand gently. "And she failed. Because you're still here, and Jessy's here. That's what matters."
At that same moment, far away, Thelma sat smugly in her dressing room, Denise at her side. She had no idea the walls around her were closing in.
Because Chris was no longer waiting for the wedding to come. He was pulling every string, stripping away every mask.
And the truth about Arabella and her real mother was waiting in the shadows.
Chris's convoy pulled into a quiet street outside London. Elliot stepped out first, scanning the area before giving a curt nod. They had tracked the orphanage director to a small, run-down house at the edge of town.
Inside, the old man sat at a wooden table, his hands trembling when Chris entered.
"You know who I am," Chris said flatly, lowering himself into the chair across from him. His presence filled the room like a storm.
"Yes... yes, sir," the man stammered. "I never wanted to..."
"Save it." Chris's eyes were steel. "You helped Cindy Frederick falsify records. You changed names, buried files, and sold my child into a lie. Tell me everything."
The director swallowed, sweat sliding down his temple. "I... I was ordered. They paid me. Mrs. Frederick said the girl had to appear as Thelma's, or else—"
"Or else what?" Chris cut in.
"They threatened to shut the orphanage down. And... and worse." His voice broke. "I changed the paperwork. But the child...Arabella...she was never Thelma's. She was delivered to us as an emergency case. A baby left behind at a hospital. I was told to erase every trace."
Chris's jaw tightened. His hands curled into fists on the table. "When?"
The man's voice dropped to a whisper. "Almost eight years ago. A hospital downtown. That's all I know, I swear. Thelma and her mother only came to me nine months ago, demanding I rewrite the records to make her theirs."
Chris leaned back slowly, his chest rising and falling with controlled fury. Downtown. Eight years ago. His mind reeled. That was around the time he had first met Bella.
It couldn't be.
"Write it all down," Chris ordered, his voice sharp as glass. "Every transfer, every name Cindy used. If you lie, I'll know. And if I have to come back here... you won't see daylight again."
The man's hand shook as he scribbled on paper, nodding rapidly.
When Chris stepped outside, Elliot was waiting. "What did he say?"
Chris's voice was low, heavy with fire. "The child came from downtown. Eight years ago. Then Thelma and Cindy staged the adoption nine months ago to make it look like she was theirs."
Elliot frowned, his brows pulling tight. "Eight years... Chris, you're thinking what I'm thinking?"
Chris didn't answer. He just stared at the horizon, his mind burning with a possibility that terrified him as much as it pulled him closer to the truth.
And then, unbidden, he remembered Vera's words...words she had spat at him in Toronto, broken with grief.
She lost one of your children already. Don't you dare make her lose another.
Chris's chest tightened. Could it be?
Could Arabella truly be...
He turned away before the thought finished, his eyes cold, his fists trembling.
"Find me every file," he said to Elliot. "We're close. Too close."