When the Poor Boy Held Her Hand, the Millionaire's Daughter Stood Up

Chapter 3: The Child Who Was Buried Without a Grave

Adrian took the locket with shaking hands.

The photograph was old, creased, and faded at the edges. But there was no mistake. Evelyn sat in the garden of their old summer house, smiling down at two newborn babies wrapped in white blankets.

Adrian remembered that day.

Or rather, he remembered what Cassandra and Dr. Merrick had told him about that day.

Evelyn had gone into labor early. One child had survived. A daughter. Lily. The other, a boy, had been stillborn. Evelyn herself had died days later from complications.

That was the story Adrian had carried for twelve years.

Now a poor, mud-covered boy stood before him with Evelyn's eyes.

Cassandra laughed suddenly, but the sound was thin and cracked.

"This is disgusting," she said. "A fake photograph. A fake story. He wants money."

Oliver shook his head. "I want my sister safe."

Lily turned toward him. "Sister?"

Oliver's eyes softened. "Yes."

Adrian felt the floor vanish beneath him.

A security guard moved toward Oliver, but Adrian raised a hand.

"No one touches him."

Cassandra grabbed Adrian's arm. "You cannot believe this. Think of the scandal."

Adrian looked at her hand on his sleeve.

"The scandal?"

Her mistake was in that one word.

Not the child. Not the truth. Not Evelyn.

The scandal.

Adrian turned to his head of security. "Find Dr. Merrick. Now."

Oliver stepped closer. "He won't come. He's leaving the country tonight."

Adrian's eyes sharpened.

"How do you know that?"

"My foster mother worked at the old maternity clinic," Oliver said. "She kept records. She said if anything ever happened to me, I had to find you. Last week, she died. Before she died, she told me Lily was being poisoned the same way my mother was."

Lily began to cry.

Adrian looked at Cassandra.

Her mask had finally broken.

"You killed Evelyn," he whispered.

Cassandra took one step back.

"I saved you from her."