Chapter 2: The Birthmark That Stopped a Billionaire
Daniel moved my hair aside.
Behind my left ear, just beneath the hairline, was a small crescent-shaped birthmark.
It was pale pink, with a tiny darker spot at its center.
I'd had it for as long as I could remember.
Adrian stared at it.
His face lost every trace of color.
"No.""
He took one step closer.
Then another.
"That's impossible.""
Daniel looked between us.
"Is something wrong?""
Adrian didn't answer.
He reached inside his jacket and pulled out a worn photograph.
The edges were yellowed. One corner had been folded and unfolded so many times that the paper was beginning to split.
He held it beside my face.
The photograph showed a little girl sitting on a white marble staircase.
She had long brown hair, enormous green eyes, and a small crescent-shaped birthmark behind her left ear.
I stared at the picture.
My breath caught.
The little girl looked exactly like me.
Adrian's fingers began trembling.
"My sister.""
He could barely get the words out.
"Her name was Isabella.""
I looked at him.
"Your sister?""
He nodded slowly.
"She disappeared in a mansion fire ten years ago. She was eight years old.""
I felt the room tilt.
Eight.
The same age I'd been when my memories began to break apart.
Adrian pulled the photograph closer.
"She had that mark from birth. My mother used to say it looked like a little moon.""
He swallowed.
"She used to kiss it every night before bed.""
I touched the mark behind my ear.
"I remember a fire.""
Adrian's eyes snapped toward me.
"What?""
"I don't remember everything. Just pieces.""
He knelt in front of my chair.
"Tell me.""
I closed my eyes.
There was smoke.
A staircase.
Someone screaming.
And a little girl crying for her mother.
"I remember waking up somewhere dark," I whispered.
"There was smoke everywhere. Someone carried me outside.""
"Who?""
"I don't know.""
"Was it a man?""
I nodded.
"He kept telling me to stay quiet.""
Adrian gripped the edge of the chair.
"What else?""
I tried to remember.
A gold necklace.
A silver car.
A man's voice saying something about money.
Then a sentence that had haunted my nightmares for years.
"Someone told him to make sure I disappeared.""
Adrian stood so abruptly that his chair scraped across the floor.
"Marco!""
A large man appeared in the doorway.
He wore a dark suit and an earpiece.
"Yes, sir?""
"Get me everything on the Whitmore estate fire. Every police report, every insurance document, every witness statement. I want the original files.""
Marco glanced at me.
Then he looked at Adrian's photograph.
His expression changed.
"Sir...""
"Now.""
Marco disappeared.
Daniel quietly stepped away, giving us privacy.
I stared at Adrian.
"Are you saying I'm your sister?""
He didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he looked at me with an expression I'd never seen on anyone's face.
Hope.
Terrifying, fragile hope.
"I don't know yet.""
I felt tears sliding down my cheeks.
"But if I am, why didn't you find me?""
Adrian closed his eyes.
"Because I believed you were dead.""
He sat beside me.
"After the fire, they found a child's body in the ruins. My uncle identified it. My mother confirmed the identification.
I was seventeen, Wren. They wouldn't let me see the body.""
"Why not?""
"They said it was too badly burned.""
My stomach tightened.
"And you believed them?""
"I had no reason not to.""
He stared at the photograph.
"Except I never believed the funeral was right.""
A silence settled between us.
I looked at the little girl in the picture.
"Did she have a family?""
Adrian gave a sad laugh.
"She had an older brother who spoiled her rotten. She had a pony named Daisy. She hated peas and would hide them under her napkin.""
He smiled faintly.
"She used to climb into my bed whenever there was thunder.""
Something inside me shifted.
A memory.
A boy with dark hair.
A wooden toy horse.
A voice promising that nothing bad would ever happen to me.
I reached for Adrian's hand.
"I remember someone calling me Bella.""
His head lifted.
"What did you say?""
"Maybe Isabella. I don't know.""
He covered his mouth.
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
Then Marco returned carrying a thick folder.
"Sir, I found something.""
Adrian stood.
"What?""
Marco opened the folder.
"The fire investigation was closed within forty-eight hours. The original report says the body was identified through dental records.""
"Whose records?""
Marco hesitated.
"Isabella's.""
Adrian frowned.
"That doesn't make sense. She never had dental records.""
"Exactly.""
He placed another document on the table.
"There's something else. The insurance payout and inheritance were transferred shortly after the funeral.""
"To whom?""
Marco lowered his voice.
"Vincent Kane.""
Adrian's jaw tightened.
His uncle.
The man who had taken control of the family business after the fire.
The man who had spent ten years telling Adrian that his little sister was gone.
"How much?"" Adrian asked.
"Approximately eight hundred million dollars.""
I stared at him.
Eight hundred million.
My entire childhood had apparently been worth more than I could comprehend.
Adrian turned another page.
Then he froze.
"What is this?""
Marco pointed to a missing-child investigation request.
It had been submitted three days after the fire.
But it had never been processed.
At the bottom was a handwritten instruction:
Close the investigation. The child has been accounted for.
And beneath it was a signature.
Vincent Kane.
Adrian slowly raised his eyes.
"Call him.""
Marco hesitated.
"Sir, are you sure?""
"Put him on speaker.""
The call connected after two rings.
A familiar older voice answered.
"Adrian. What a pleasant surprise.""
Adrian looked at me.
Then he spoke.
"Uncle Vincent, I think we need to discuss the Whitmore fire.""
There was a brief silence.
Then Vincent laughed.
"Ah. I was wondering how long it would take.""
My blood turned cold.
Because he didn't sound surprised.
He sounded like he'd been waiting for this conversation for ten years.
May you like
And then he said my name.
"Wren.""
