Chapter 2 - Unraveling the Web
The room fell into a suffocating silence.
Julian blinked, a nervous chuckle escaping his lips. “What kind of sick joke is this? My father died in a plane crash over the Pacific when I was three years old. My mother showed me the death certificate!”
“She showed you a forged paper, Julian,” Dr. Vance—or Arthur Sterling—said, his eyes gleaming with unshed tears. “Twenty-five years ago, when Sterling Holdings was first founded, your mother sought total control of the company. She orchestrated my disappearance, framed me for financial fraud, and paid off officials to declare me dead. I barely escaped with my life. I had to abandon my name, my identity, and my entire past just to survive. I rebuilt my life under my mother’s maiden name, Vance, and dedicated my life to medicine.”
Eleanor’s lips trembled, her composure entirely destroyed. “You’re lying! You’re an impostor!”
“Am I, Eleanor?” Arthur stepped closer, pointing toward the newborn baby resting peacefully in the bassinet. “Look at the boy’s left ear. Look at his eyes. The Sterling genetic mark—the star birthmark and central heterochromia—has passed down through five generations of true Sterling men. I have it. You pretended Julian had it, but Julian never bore those traits because Julian isn't even my biological son, is he?”
Julian’s face went entirely pale. “What... what did you just say?”
“When Eleanor realized she couldn't conceive with me back then, she secretly adopted an orphan from an overseas agency and claimed it was mine to secure the trust fund,” Arthur revealed, his voice steady now. “I found out right before she framed me. But this child... this baby girl or boy...”
Arthur looked at me, a profound look of reverence in his eyes. “Vivian... how is this possible?”
I took a deep, steadying breath, sitting up despite the burning pain in my abdomen.
“Because, Julian,” I said, looking my ex-husband straight in the eyes, “you aren't the baby’s father. But not for the reasons your mother lied about.”
Julian stared at me, bewildered. “What are you talking about? You never cheated on me!”
“No, I didn't,” I replied calmly. “When you forced me to undergo routine fertility checks before our divorce, your mother arranged for the samples to be handled by a private clinic she bribed. But I suspected she was up to something. I secretly requested the genetic storage facility to use the genuine, preserved specimen from the original Sterling family vault—the lineage bank established by the founding board decades ago. Your mother thought she was manipulating me, but she inadvertently allowed me access to the true, untouched biological legacy of the original Sterling line.”
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I reached under my pillow and pulled out a thick, sealed Manila envelope—the very evidence I had carried with me through every late-night cleaning shift and grueling hotel hour.
“You thought I was just a naive wife who enjoyed your money, Eleanor,” I said, holding out the envelope. “You forgot that before I married Julian, I was a senior forensic contract auditor. While you were busy kicking me out onto the street, I spent every night analyzing every piece of paper Julian left behind.”
