Chapter 2

While I packed my things, I thought back to all our memories together. How shy and awkward he'd been when he first asked me out in college. The tough years after graduation when we struggled to build our careers together. The look in his eyes on our wedding day when he made his vows.

All those feelings had been real once. So when did they turn sour? Maybe it was the moment Jessica joined the company.

Jessica was my friend from college, the one I'd recommended for the job. She'd come in with that sweet smile of hers and fit right into the team. She kept bringing up Andrew in front of me, going on about how great he was, and I'd been naive enough to think my best friend was just validating my choice in men.

I should've noticed when she started showing up at Andrew's office all the time. I should've caught on when she started copying my style. I should've realized something was wrong when she kept asking about the intimate details of our marriage.

That day, I logged into Andrew's music account—one he barely used anymore—and found a new playlist called "Jess." The playlist he'd named after me was gone.

All those songs that used to remind him of me, all the melodies we'd hummed together, all those notes that carried our memories were deleted with a single click, just as decisively as he'd decided to erase me from his life.

When Andrew finished packing and was about to leave, I leaned against the doorframe and asked him one last question. "By the way, that anniversary bracelet you gave me. Did you end up giving it to Jessica?"

His steps faltered for a moment, but he didn't answer. That was answer enough.

I laughed. "Real classy. Passing off someone else's gift as new."

After he left, I stood alone in the empty house, and I felt like someone had hollowed me out from the inside. Three years of marriage, and it was over just like that. No begging, no fighting—it was all so civil that it felt more like a business transaction than a divorce.

The next day, I went back to work, and everything seemed normal on the surface. But I could feel the undercurrent running beneath it all. My coworkers' eyes lingered on me a little longer than usual, and their whispered conversations came to an abrupt halt whenever I walked past.

During lunch, I sat alone in the corner and pulled out my phone. Andrew had posted a new update on his Instagram—a photo of him with Jessica, with a caption that read, "Meeting you was the best gift this city ever gave me."

The comments were flooded with congratulations, and I recognized some of the names—our mutual coworkers. They'd congratulated me and Andrew the same way once upon a time.

I set my phone down and looked out the window. Spring had arrived, and the trees were pushing out new buds, full of life. For a moment, I felt something unexpected—relief. At least from now on, I wouldn't have to wear a mask anymore.

"Ms. Hartley," my assistant Ryan said as he approached my table. "There's someone here to see you. He says his name is Mr. Hawthorne, and it's about your father."

"My father?" I looked up, confused. "He's in the conference room?"

"Yes, ma'am. He said it's urgent."

I pushed aside my untouched lunch and smoothed down my clothes. As I headed toward the conference room, my heart started beating faster, though I couldn't explain why.

Inside the conference room, a middle-aged man in a charcoal gray suit stood by the window, and his posture was straight and commanding. When he heard the door open, he turned around, and his sharp eyes locked onto me.

"Vivian Hartley?" His voice was deep and resonant.

I nodded. "Yes, and you are?"

"Richard Hawthorne's assistant, Michael Reed." He handed me a business card. "Mr. Hawthorne wants to meet you."

"Richard?" I frowned at the name. Everyone in the business world knew who he was. He ran Eastbridge Corporation. "I think you've got the wrong person. I don't have any connection to Mr. Hawthorne."

Michael's expression stayed blank. "Your mother is Linda Hartley, correct?"

Hearing my mother's name made my guard go up instantly. "How do you know that?"

"Mrs. Hartley was Mr. Hawthorne's lover when they were young, and they separated 28 years ago." He paused for a moment. "Your birthdate falls eight months after they split up, and Mr. Hawthorne only recently found out you exist."

The room seemed to tilt around me, and I grabbed the edge of the table to steady myself. "That's impossible. My father died when I was five."

"That's what Mrs. Hartley told you." Michael pulled out an envelope and set it on the table. "This contains everything you need for a paternity test. If you want, you can take it to any lab you choose. Mr. Hawthorne hopes to see you soon."

I took the envelope, and the whole situation felt completely absurd. "Why now? Why did he wait 28 years?"

"Mr. Hawthorne's health has been declining recently, and he wants to meet you while he still can." He handed me another business card. "Take your time to think it over, and contact me whenever you're ready."

After Michael left, I just stood there with my thoughts spinning out of control. If this was actually true, my entire life was about to get rewritten. Richard—the business legend himself—could be my biological father?