Sterling asked, now paying close attention.
“He shouted, ‘God forgive me!’ and then he was gone. He never came back.”
The room fell silent. Arthur closed his eyes. A limping man, an old pickup truck.
“Thank you, Sister,” Anna whispered and ended the call before the nun could ask more questions.
Sterling loosened his tie, clearly unsettled.
“That proves nothing, Arthur. It could have been anyone. A remorseful father abandoning his illegitimate child.”
“Eleanor died that night,” Arthur said in a grim voice. “And the baby was gone.”
“If this man was at the scene of the accident, if he saved her… or if he stole her…” Sterling countered. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. If that DNA test comes back negative, I’m suing this girl for fraud and extortion. I’ll make sure she spends the next ten years in prison.”
Anna felt a knot tighten in her stomach, but she held her head high.
“If the test is negative, I’ll walk into the police station myself,” she said. “But if it’s positive, I want an apology from you on your knees.”
Time crawled by. One hour, two, three. No one ate, no one drank. Arthur stood at the panoramic window, staring out at the city lights. Anna sat on the sofa, hugging her knees. Sterling reviewed documents on his tablet, but his eyes kept flicking to the clock.
At three in the morning, Arthur’s phone rang. The sound was jarring in the silent room. Arthur turned slowly. The screen read: ‘Dr. Evans.’ Arthur stared at the phone as if it were a bomb about to detonate. Anna shot to her feet, her heart pounding against her ribs.
“Sterling, put the tablet down.”
Arthur answered and put the call on speaker.
“Talk to me,” he said.
Dr. Evans’s voice was tired but clear.
“I ran the samples three times, Art. I didn’t want to make a mistake.”
“And?” Blackwood pressed, his hands clenched into fists.
“It’s a perfect match,” the doctor said. “99.9 percent. Arthur, she’s your daughter.”
The world seemed to stop. Sterling dropped his pen on the floor. Anna covered her mouth with her hands to stifle a sob.
Arthur said nothing. He slowly ended the call and looked up. His gray eyes, usually as cold and hard as steel, were filled with tears. He crossed the room in three long strides. Anna backed away, frightened by the intensity in his gaze. But he didn’t stop. He simply stood before her, his composure cracking for the first time in decades.
“You’re alive,” he whispered, his voice raw, reaching out to grip Anna’s arms as if they were a lifeline. “My God, you’re alive.”
Anna looked at the man she had feared just hours ago, now standing before her, weeping silently. The truth hit her with the force of a physical blow. She wasn’t an orphan. She wasn’t a mistake. She was someone’s daughter.
“Dad…?” The word escaped her lips before she could think. It felt strange and new.
Arthur pulled his daughter into a fierce hug, burying his face in her hair and letting out 23 years of pent-up grief. Sterling, pale as a ghost, picked up his briefcase and slipped out of the room, realizing he had just witnessed a miracle he couldn’t possibly dispute.
Arthur pulled himself together, wiping the tears from his face with the back of his hand. In an instant, the vulnerability was gone, and the mask of the ruthless tycoon was back in place.
“You’ll need new clothes,” Arthur said, pulling out his phone, “and a proper room. I’ll have the housekeeper prepare the blue guest suite. It’s the largest.”
Anna, still reeling from the shock of finding her father, pushed herself off the sofa, unsteady on her feet.
“Wait a minute,” she said, holding up a hand. “I’m not staying here.”
Arthur stopped, his thumb hovering over his phone screen.
“What did you say?”
“I have an apartment,” Anna explained, feeling small under her father’s intense gaze. “I have things to do. I have to feed my cat. I can’t just move into a luxury penthouse because a piece of paper says we’re related.”
“That piece of paper says you’re a Blackwood,” Arthur countered, stepping toward her. “And Blackwoods don’t live in rented apartments on the south side. You’ll live here, with me.”
“I’m not your property!” Anna shot back, taking a step away. “I’ve lived for twenty-three years without you. I don’t need you to come in now and control my life.”
The tension in the room skyrocketed. Arthur’s jaw tightened, accustomed to his orders being followed without question.
“This isn’t about control. It’s about safety,” he said, his voice lowering. “Think about it, Anna. My wife died in a car accident that the police ruled as accidental. They said there were no survivors, that the car was completely incinerated.”
A chill went through Anna.
“So?”
“And yet, here you are,” Arthur continued, gesturing to her. “Alive, without a single burn. That means the police report was a lie. It means someone pulled you from that car before it exploded and hid you in a children’s home.”
Arthur walked to the panoramic window, his eyes dark as he looked out over the city.
“Someone knew you were alive and didn’t tell me. Someone stole you from me. Until I find out who and why, you will not leave this building without security.”
Anna fell silent. Arthur’s logic was terrifying but undeniable. If her mother had died in that fire, who had saved her? And why had her rescuer hidden?
“I need to go to my apartment,” Anna insisted, her voice softer now. “I have pictures of my friends from the home. I have a journal I started when I was a kid. I can’t just leave all that behind.”
Arthur sighed and gave a single, curt nod.
“Fine. We’ll go tomorrow. But you’ll go with my security team, and you’ll come back with me.”
“Deal,” Anna agreed, crossing her arms. “But don’t call me Charlotte. My name is Anna.”
“Your name is what your mother chose for you before she died,” Arthur said gently, pulling an old photograph from his wallet. “She wanted to name you Grace.”
He held out the photo. Anna took it with trembling fingers. It was a faded image of a young woman, laughing, with dark hair and the same honey-colored eyes Anna saw in the mirror every morning. The resemblance was undeniable. Anna felt a lump form in her throat.
“Grace…”
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