Chapter 4

Charles had said, "Let's go to the hospital," and for a moment, I froze. The hesitation was instant, sharp.

Why would I go see my father? The man who had barely acknowledged me as his daughter? The man who had always put Diane first, while I was left as an afterthought? It didn't make sense, and yet…he was my father. No matter what he had done, no matter how much he had hurt me, that bond was undeniable.

"Fine," I muttered finally, though the word felt heavy on my tongue.

Charles waited patiently, but I wasn't about to leave looking like this. "Give me a minute," I said before heading to my tiny, cluttered room. Quickly, I changed into something less embarrassing. My reflection in the cracked mirror looked…decent enough.

By the time I made it downstairs, Charles was waiting by his brand-new Mercedes, looking every bit the golden child. Without a word, I slipped into the passenger seat, and we drove off.

As we pulled into the hospital parking lot less than thirty minutes later, the air grew heavier around me. Entering the lobby, I was hit by the sterile scent of disinfectant, making the situation feel all the more real.

The nurses recognized Charles immediately. Their smiles widened, their attention fixated on him like moths to a flame.

"Mr. Charles Morgan, right?" one of them said, her voice almost sugary. "Your father is in Room 308. You can go in, but…" She turned to me, her tone noticeably colder. "You might have to wait here. Are you his assistant? Or maybe his manager?"

I stared at her, stunned by the audacity. "Excuse me?"

Before I could say more, Charles stepped in, his tone calm but firm. "No, she's my sister."

Her eyes widened, darting between us as if she couldn't believe it. "Sister?" she echoed.

Charles didn't bother responding, simply tugging my arm and leading me toward the hallway. His grip was gentle, but I could feel the tension in it.

When we reached Room 308, I hesitated for a split second before stepping inside.

Dad lay on the bed, looking more fragile than I had ever seen him. The powerful man I remembered was gone, replaced by someone weak, pale, and clinging to life. Stepmom sat beside him, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. Whether those tears were genuine or just for show, I couldn't tell—and frankly, I didn't care.

Dad's face changed the moment he saw me. His eyes lit up, something I hadn't seen in years. Was that…relief? Love?

"Am I dreaming?" he rasped, his voice barely above a whisper.

Charles broke the silence. "Father, how are you feeling?"

For someone who rarely strung together more than two words, it was a surprisingly full sentence.

Dad turned to him, his expression shifting to one of frustration. "Charles, find your sister. Where could she be? What will the world think of us if she's not found? Why would she do this now—of all times?" His voice cracked under the weight of his anger.

Stepmom interjected, her voice sharp. "I told you not to let Diane marry him. I warned you this would happen."

Dad's gaze darkened. "Do you understand what this means?" he shot back. "If Diane isn't found, the wedding will be canceled. Do you realize what that will cost us? Mr. Volkov doesn't forget. He doesn't forgive. Not only will the company crumble, but he'll come after us. He might be a cripple, but he has the power to destroy lives."

I stood silently, my heart twisting at the sheer desperation in his words.

Stepmom glanced at me briefly, her lips curling into a subtle, satisfied smirk.

"Let him come after us," I muttered under my breath. "It's not like I'm part of the family anyway."

Dad's gaze softened as he turned to me, his hand trembling as he extended it. "Evelyn," he whispered, "please, come closer."

I hesitated before stepping forward. His frail fingers wrapped around mine, and for a moment, I saw something I hadn't seen in years—vulnerability.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice breaking. "I'm sorry for everything I've put you through. For not giving you the life you deserved. For not being the father you needed. Please…can you forgive me?"

The words hit me like a tidal wave. Forgive him? Now, of all times? After everything? My mind raced, trying to make sense of the sudden apology. And then it clicked.

He wanted me to take Diane's place.

I pulled my hand back, stepping away. "I forgive you," I said coldly. "But I'm not doing this."

His face fell, but I pressed on. "You gave Diane everything. You gave her the life she wanted, and she still ran away. You gave me nothing, and now you expect me to clean up this mess? To marry a man I've never met—for you?" My voice rose, my anger spilling over. "No. Never."

"Evelyn, please," he pleaded, his voice cracking. "I'm not asking you to marry him. Just stall for time. Pretend to be Diane. Say you're unwell, or convince them to delay the wedding. That's all I ask."

I laughed bitterly. "Pretend to be Diane? Are you serious? For years, you ignored me, never even calling me your own daughter. And now you think a few kind words will make me bend to your will?"

His desperation deepened, but I turned on my heel to leave. Charles grabbed my arm, but my glare made him let go.

I was almost out the door when Dad's voice stopped me cold.

"Don't you want to know where your mother is?"

The words shattered me, breaking through every wall i had built.

Stepmom's voice finally cut through the suffocating silence. "What? A deal? What are you talking about? You don't expect Evelyn to replace Diane. You can't just pick any girl to replace her. Diane Morgan is irreplaceable!"

Dad's voice boomed, interrupting her tirade. "Enough!" He shoved her aside, his face a mask of desperation. "This is not up for debate."

I stood frozen, the chaos swirling around me as if I weren't there. Their words blended into a blur, but fragments lodged in my mind.

"Evelyn is not Diane," Stepmom spat, her voice sharp with disdain.

"I know she isn't Diane," Dad snapped, his voice cracking under the weight of his words. "But she's all we have."

Then he turned to me, his eyes dark and unwavering. "Don't you want to know where your mother is, Evelyn?"

Those words hit me like a tidal wave. My mother. My real mother. Memories of sleepless nights flooded my mind, nights spent crying over the stories I had heard about her suffering. A woman trapped in this family's web, a woman who had endured hell. I had spent years imagining her face, her voice, her touch.

"Yes, I want to know," I whispered, my voice trembling.

"Then do this for me," Dad said, his tone softening, but the manipulation was clear. "Marry Mr Volkov, and I promise you, I'll find her. After the wedding, I'll start searching. Within a year, you'll have your mother."

My heart ached at his words, but my mind screamed at the unfairness of it all. "So you know where my mother is, and you've kept it from me all these years? You didn't even try to reunite us?"

Dad's expression didn't falter. "I know you're smart enough to understand, Evelyn. Just do this one thing for me, and I'll give you the reunion you've always dreamed of."

Stepmom's face twisted with fury, but she remained silent. Charles, my quiet stepbrother, stood on the sidelines, observing the spectacle with a furrowed brow. "Dad, I don't think she can do this," he finally said. "Let's call off the wedding."

But Dad shook his head. "No. My company, my life, my everything is on the line. This wedding must happen. Either Diane or Evelyn must marry him. And since Diane isn't an option, it has to be Evelyn."

The room spun as his words sank in. I felt like a pawn in a cruel game of chess, being moved to save his empire.

I stormed out of the room, my anger bubbling over. The house that had once been my prison felt even smaller now. As I walked through the halls, a nurse approached me. "What's wrong, ma'am?"

I glared at her, my dead stare silencing whatever concern she might have had. Without a word, I left the house and called my taxi driver, the one person who always arrived when I needed him. Within ten minutes, he was there.

But instead of escaping to Stella's house like I had planned, I found myself back at the Maldon mansion. My anger and frustration had led me back to the very place I wanted to leave behind.

The maids glanced at me, their faces filled with curiosity, but I ignored them and ran to my room. Once inside, I collapsed onto the floor, the weight of my emotions finally breaking through.

I reached under my bed and pulled out a cardboard box filled with letters and scribbled notes from my childhood. Each one was a cry for help, a plea for a mother's love, a father's kindness. The pain of my childhood hit me like a wave, and tears streamed down my face.

I clutched a letter to my chest, my resolve crumbling. I wanted to see my mother, to feel her arms around me, to hear her call me her daughter. The little girl in me, the one who had spent years yearning for love, couldn't let this opportunity slip away.

But the price was too high.

Marrying Mr Volkov, a man I didn't know, a man who was crippled, felt like a death sentence. But if I refused, Dad would make my life even more miserable. His company would collapse, and he would blame me for it.

I picked up my phone and dialed his number. He answered immediately, as if he had been waiting. "Evelyn, I know this is hard for you, but think about the bright side. I've already signed the contract. Just sign it, and I'll find your mother. I promise."

His voice was calm, persuasive, and I hated how it made me waver. A knock on the door interrupted my thoughts. One of the maids handed me a stack of papers, her face emotionless. "Make it quick," she said before leaving.

I stared at the contract, my hands shaking. Every word was a chain, binding me to a future I didn't want. But the thought of my mother kept pulling me back.

Tears blurred my vision as I grabbed a pen and signed the papers, each stroke of the pen feeling like a betrayal to myself. When it was done, I sat back, my chest heaving with sobs.