Chapter 17
In the car, Damien’s brow was furrowed. Something felt… off.
2012 C
The silence in the car was too absolute. Something was missing. He wracked his brain, and then it hit him. The familiar, soothing scent of jasmine that always relaxed his frayed nerves was gone.
“Why was the car’s air freshener changed?” he asked the driver, his voice sharp.
The driver glanced at him in the rearview mirror. “Sir,” he said cautiously, “the previous scent was custom–blended by the madam. She said it was calming. But… she hasn’t provided a new one recently.”
Damien froze. A series of images flashed through his mind.
Coming home late from work to find a single lamp left on in the entryway, a glass of warm honey water waiting on the table
The way she would add a bit of yam to his porridge when his stomach was acting up, making it soft but not sweet.
The small jasmine sachet she would secretly tuck into his suit pocket on rainy days, saying it would ward off the damp chill.
All those small, gentle acts, so subtle he had barely noticed them, now felt like a thousand tiny needles piercing his heart.
The atmosphere at the Vance estate was thick with tension.
Seraphina pointed at her injuries, her voice seething. “That idiot was living my life and still ended up this pathetic! Absolutely usel-
ess! It’s an insult to me!”
Her mother hugged her, her own voice filled with pity. “Don’t be angry, my sweet girl. We’ll get revenge for you!”
“Revenge?” Seraphina scoffed. “Our family isn’t what it used to be. And after giving her that five million, how are we supposed to fight the Blackwoods?”
At her words, her parents‘ faces went pale. Seraphina was right. The Vance family was in decline, their wealth a hollow facade.
Against the Blackwoods, all they could do was put up a brave front.
Just then, the butler announced that Damien and Isabelle had arrived.
Mr. and Mrs. Vance exchanged a look and stormed out, their angry gazes zeroing in on Isabelle.
“Is this the bitch who bullied my daughter?” Mrs. Vance shrieked, pointing at Isabelle. “And you have the nerve to bring her
home to flaunt her? Do you think the Vance family has no one left to defend it?”
She lunged forward, ready to attack.
Damien raised a hand to block her, his voice cold. “I’m here today to ask a few questions.”
Mr. Vance snorted, but given the Blackwoods‘ power, he stepped aside. “Come inside.”
In the study, the air was heavy.
Damien cut straight to the chase. “Where is the real Seraphina Vance?”
to
our
The Vances‘ faces changed. After a quick glance at each other, Mr. Vance tried to remain calm. “Damien, what are you talking abo-
ut? The woman living in your house is our daughter, Seraphina!”
“Is she?” Damien let out a cold laugh and threw the file from his suit pocket onto the desk. “The substitute bride from three years ago. Did you really think you could hide it forever?”
Mrs. Vance’s fingers trembled. Before she could retort, the study door was pushed open.
“I am Seraphina Vance. What about it?”
2012
Chapter 17
2012
A cool voice cut through the tension. Damien turned to see the woman from the hospital standing in the doorway. She held up an
ID card. The name on it was clearly “Seraphina Vance.”
Damien stared at the ID, his brow furrowed. The photo was a perfect match for the face in front of him, but his gut told him somet-
hing was deeply wrong.
“If you doubt my identity, Mr. Blackwood, feel free to investigate,” she said flatly, then turned to leave.
Damien grabbed her wrist, his voice low. “Who are you?”
She met his gaze, her expression so calm it was almost cold. “Does it matter? In your heart, Mr. Blackwood, there has never been a
place for ‘Seraphina Vance‘ anyway.”
Her words were a knife to his chest. He instinctively let go, and she walked away without a backward glance.
That night, his assistant called.
“Sir, I’ve found out.” The assistant’s voice was tense. “The Vance family does have two daughters. Twins.
The
one who married you
three years ago was the younger sister, Elara. The elder sister, Seraphina, ran away before the wedding, so the family had Elara
take her place. But for some reason, the real Seraphina has recently returned…”
Damien gripped the phone, his knuckles turning white.
So that was it.
The woman who cooked for him, who waited up for him, who silently endured everything… was never Seraphina.
It was Elara.
He shot to his feet, his eyes glacial. “Get some men to the Vance estate immediately. I want Mr. and Mrs. Vance ‘invited‘ over here.”
2012
