The cemetery is quiet at dawn, shrouded in early morning mist that clings to the headstones like ghostly fingers. I've timed my visit carefully—early enough to avoid other mourners, late enough that the groundskeepers won't question my presence.

Five years, and I still can't visit my mother's grave openly.


I park my rental car at the far end of the cemetery and pull a dark scarf over my hair. The disguise is probably unnecessary—no one from my old life would recognize me now—but old habits die hard. Survival has taught me to leave nothing to chance.

Leo is still asleep at the hotel with Marcus watching over him. I needed to do this alone, to center myself before today's confrontation with Ethan.

The path to my mother's grave is etched in my memory. Third row from the oak tree, five plots in. Eleanor Morgan, Beloved Wife and Mother, taken too soon at forty-five.


I place the white roses I've brought against the headstone and trace the engraved letters with my fingertips.

"Hello, Mom," I whisper. "It's been a while."


The silence that follows is heavy with all the things I wish I could tell her. About Leo, about my plans, about how much I miss her steady guidance.

"I'm back in New York," I continue softly. "I'm going to take back what's ours. What they stole from us."

The wind rustles through the oak tree, sending a shower of leaves spiraling to the ground. I close my eyes, remembering the last time I saw my mother alive.

---

"You need to be careful, Olivia," my mother had said, her voice weak but her eyes sharp as ever. She'd been sick for months, her heart condition worsening despite the best medical care money could buy.

I sat beside her hospital bed, holding her frail hand. "Careful of what?"

"Diana." My mother's gaze drifted to the door, ensuring we were alone. "She's not what she seems. Neither is Cassandra."

I'd sighed, attributing her suspicion to illness and medication. "Mom, they're family now. Dad loves Diana."

"Your father is blinded by grief and a pretty face." She squeezed my hand with surprising strength. "Promise me you'll watch out for yourself when I'm gone. Don't trust them."

"You're not going anywhere," I'd insisted, fighting back tears. "The new medication is working. The doctor said—"

"Doctors don't know everything." She reached for the small jewelry box on her nightstand. "I want you to have this now."

Inside was her grandmother's sapphire ring—a family heirloom meant to be passed down to the firstborn daughter on her wedding day.

"Mom, I can't—"

"Take it," she insisted. "Keep it safe. It belongs to you, not to them."

I'd slipped the ring onto my finger, humoring her, certain she'd recover and we'd laugh about her paranoia later.

Three days later, she was gone. Heart failure, the doctors said. A tragic but not unexpected outcome given her condition.

I was devastated but not suspicious. Not then.

It wasn't until that night in the hotel room, five years ago, that I learned the truth.

---

I blink away the memory and focus on the headstone before me. "You were right about them, Mom. About everything."

The sapphire ring gleams on my finger—the one possession I managed to keep when I lost everything else. I sold every other piece of jewelry I owned to survive those first desperate months, but this ring I protected fiercely. It was more than an heirloom; it was a promise to my mother that I would reclaim what was rightfully ours.

"I have a son now," I tell her, smiling despite the tears threatening to fall. "His name is Leo. He's five, and he's perfect. You would have adored him." I pause, swallowing hard. "He has his father's eyes, but your spirit. Strong, determined. He asks about you sometimes, about his grandmother in heaven."

I trace the dates on the headstone, anger rising like bile in my throat as I remember what Cassandra revealed to me that night five years ago.

---

I had collapsed on a park bench three blocks from the hotel, my world spinning from whatever drugs Cassandra had slipped me. My phone buzzed incessantly—messages from board members, from HR, from my father, all condemning me for behavior I couldn't remember.

Then Cassandra called.

Against my better judgment, I answered.

"Enjoying your walk of shame, sister dear?" Her voice dripped with malice.

"What did you do to me?" I demanded, my words slurring slightly.

She laughed, the sound like breaking glass. "I simply revealed your true nature to everyone who matters. The security footage of you throwing yourself at Ethan Knight is quite convincing. Such a scandal—the Morgan heiress seducing a competitor."

"It wasn't like that," I protested weakly. "You drugged me."

"Prove it," she taunted. "Oh wait, you can't. The tox screen will be clean by the time you think to get one. And even if traces remain, who's to say you didn't take the drugs voluntarily? Party girl Olivia, always looking for a good time."

"Why?" I whispered. "Why would you do this?"

"Because you've always had everything handed to you," she hissed, her composure cracking. "Daddy's precious heir, the true Morgan bloodline. Do you have any idea what it's like living in your shadow? Watching you coast through life on your family name while I had to fight for every scrap of recognition?"

"That's not true," I argued. "I worked hard for—"

"Save it," she snapped. "It doesn't matter now. You're finished at Morgan Group. Your reputation is in tatters. And I'm finally getting what I deserve."

I clutched the phone tighter, fighting against the fog in my brain. "My father will never believe—"

"Your father already believes the worst," she interrupted. "He's always been so easy to manipulate, especially since your mother died."

Something in her tone made my blood run cold. "What do you mean?"

Cassandra paused, and I could almost see her cruel smile through the phone. "Did you never wonder why your mother's condition deteriorated so suddenly? Heart medication can be so tricky—especially when someone's been tampering with the dosage."

The world seemed to stop. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying your precious mother didn't die of natural causes," she replied coldly. "My mother needed Charles, and Eleanor was in the way. A few extra pills here, a few skipped doses there... The doctors never suspected a thing."

I couldn't breathe, couldn't think. "You're lying."

"Am I? Ask yourself why your mother was so suspicious of us toward the end. She knew something wasn't right, but no one believed her. They all thought the medication was making her paranoid." Cassandra laughed softly. "By the time you figure out how to prove any of this, it will be too late. You'll be nothing but a distant memory at Morgan Group."

"I'll tell my father," I threatened, though my voice shook. "I'll tell everyone what you've done."

"Go ahead," she challenged. "The disgraced daughter making wild accusations to save her reputation? Who do you think they'll believe—you, or the daughter who's been loyally by Charles's side while you were busy seducing competitors in hotel rooms?"

The truth of her words hit me like a physical blow. In one night, she'd destroyed my credibility, my reputation, my future. No one would believe me now.

"You won't get away with this," I whispered.

"I already have," Cassandra replied. "Goodbye, sister dear. Enjoy your new life—whatever's left of it."

The line went dead, leaving me alone on that park bench with the devastating truth: my mother had been murdered, and the same people who killed her had now destroyed me.

---

A twig snaps behind me, jolting me back to the present. I whirl around, instantly alert, only to find an elderly groundskeeper some distance away, raking leaves.

I exhale slowly, forcing my racing heart to calm. Paranoia has been my constant companion for five years, but today it's justified. Today I face Ethan Knight and the DNA test that will confirm what he already suspects—that Leo is his son.

"I have to go, Mom," I whisper, pressing my fingers to my lips and then to her name on the stone. "But I'll be back when this is over. When justice is done."

As I turn to leave, movement near the cemetery entrance catches my eye. A black SUV with tinted windows idles by the gate, too sleek and new to belong to the groundskeeper.

I duck behind a large monument, heart pounding as I peer around the edge. The passenger window lowers, and I catch a glimpse of a face I know all too well—Diana Morgan, my former stepmother and Cassandra's accomplice in my mother's murder.

Has she recognized me? Impossible—I'm too far away, and my appearance has changed too dramatically. More likely she's here to visit my father's parents, buried in the family plot on the other side of the cemetery.

Still, the coincidence unnerves me. I wait until the SUV moves on before slipping out from my hiding place and taking a different path back to my car.

As I drive away, my phone buzzes with a text from Marcus:

*"Knight's lawyer called. They've arranged for a private lab technician at 9 AM. Should I contact our attorney?"*

I glance at the clock—7:30 AM. Ninety minutes until I face Ethan Knight and the test that will change everything.

*"Yes,"* I reply. *"And make sure Leo is ready when I get back. He needs to look perfect today."*

Perfect for meeting his father, though neither of them will know it's a meeting five years in the making.