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Juliette backed away, her hands trembling as she held them out defenselessly. "She isn't, Chris! She’s Claire’s! And if Claire’s daughter is proven legitimate, the original land charter reverts to her branch of the family. You lose the estate. You lose everything."

"I don't care about the estate," Christopher growled, his voice thick with raw betrayal. "Where is my sister?"

Juliette went completely still. She didn't answer. Her eyes darted anxiously toward the far side of the room, fixing on a heavy oak door masked behind a velvet tapestry—the entrance to Estelle’s private, locked study.

Christopher didn't wait for her to speak. He strode across the Persian rug, shoved the tapestry aside, and grabbed the brass handle.

Locked.

Without hesitation, he drove his shoulder into the wood. The lock splintered with a violent crack. He slammed into it a second time, and the heavy door gave way, swinging open into the dim room.

The smell struck him first—not roses or old paper, but medicinal antiseptic and stale air.

Sunlight filtered through drawn blinds, illuminating a small medical bed set up in the center of the room. IV stands and monitoring equipment surrounded it, humming rhythmically in the quiet space.

Lying in the bed, pale and frail, was a woman with hollow cheeks and long, dark hair spread across the pillow.

Christopher froze. The air left his lungs.

The woman’s eyelids fluttered open at the sound of the door breaking. Her vacant eyes slowly focused on Christopher's soaked figure.

"Chris..." she rasped, her voice barely a breath.

It was Claire.

She hadn't died seven years ago in Switzerland. She had been kept here, hidden in Estelle's locked wing, kept sedated while Estelle erased her existence to retain control of the Pierce fortune—and while Juliette helped ensure the secret never reached the light of day.

The secret waiting in Estelle’s locked room proved the little girl had never been the real target. Emma had simply been the collateral damage of a far older, darker lie.

Sirens wailed in the distance, echoing up the long drive toward the mansion. Christopher turned back to look at Emma standing in the doorway, her small hand clutching his soaked sleeve. He pulled her into his arms, held his living sister’s hand, and turned his back on Juliette forever.