Chapter 540

Chapter 540

The air in the private dining room had gone completely still.

Zoey studied Finn's composed expression, and suddenly everything clicked into place.

Finn had known all along. From the very beginning.

But what about Alexander?

She turned to look at him.

Alexander caught her gaze and immediately reached for her hand. "I didn't know, Zoey. I swear I didn't know."

There was an urgency in his voice — and beneath it, a flicker of something close to panic he couldn't quite hide.

He wasn't afraid of what Peter might say. He was afraid of Zoey thinking he'd kept secrets from her.

Zoey looked at him for a long moment, then gave a small nod.

She believed him.

If he'd known, he wouldn't have hidden it from her.

Alexander exhaled slowly, the tension leaving his shoulders. Then he turned to Finn, brow furrowed. "Grandfather, what are you talking about? What do you mean Peter is Lily's family? What do you mean stealing the body was for research?"

Finn let out a quiet sigh, his grip tightening slightly on his cane.

He looked at Zoey, his expression carrying the weight of something complicated. "Zoey, the King family scandal made headlines for a reason. The reason Peter took your mother's body — your mother had been poisoned. A rare, slow-acting neurotoxin."

Zoey's pupils contracted slightly.

"They needed to study it." Finn pressed on. "And they did so without damaging her remains. But if they hadn't taken her when they did, your mother's body would have been cremated. There would have been nothing left to analyze."

Peter picked up where Finn left off, his voice quiet and heavy. "Zoey, I tried going through the proper channels. I filed the requests, got all the paperwork approved, and brought every document to Aiden. He refused."

He paused, a current of controlled anger running beneath his words. "He said Lily was an orphan. That he was her only family." A beat. "He didn't know I was her family too."

Zoey watched him. Said nothing.

"Zoey." Peter's voice roughened at the edges, and the redness creeping into his eyes was impossible to miss. "If I hadn't left back then, Lily never would have married Aiden. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

Zoey still said nothing.

Peter drew a slow, steadying breath, like a man preparing to step off a ledge. When he spoke, each word came out deliberate and measured. "There's something I need to tell you. Aiden is not your father."

The private room went so quiet you could have heard a pin drop.

"I am." Peter held her gaze — hope and guilt and more than twenty years of buried grief all tangled together in his eyes. "When Lily married Aiden, she was already pregnant. I only found out a few days ago. She kept it from me, all this time. She kept it from me..."

Something jolted inside Zoey's chest.

Just once. Then it went still.

She looked at Peter — at the emotion raw on his face, at the features that mirrored her own in ways that were hard to ignore — and felt nothing move in her. It was as if some part of her had simply sealed itself shut.

So what?

"So what?" she said. Her voice was calm. Completely, unnervingly calm.

Peter stared at her.

"All I want right now is my mother's body back." Her gaze was flat, like she was looking at a stranger. "Everything else — I don't want any part of it."

She couldn't have been clearer.

Clear enough that she watched the hope on Peter's face fracture, piece by piece, into something wordless and broken.

He wasn't a fool.

He understood.

She wasn't claiming him.

Alexander sat beside her, her hand still held in his, and said nothing.

He just watched her. His eyes soft with an ache he didn't try to hide.

He knew her.

He knew how much she'd suffered growing up inside the King family. Knew how deep the shadow of that word — 'father' — ran in her.

And now some man appears out of nowhere, drops a bombshell, and expects her to just open her arms?

On what grounds?

Finn watched it all unfold, exhaled quietly, and let the silence be.

Peter opened his mouth. Closed it. The words wouldn't come.

He should have seen this coming.

Twenty years of absence couldn't be undone by a conversation.

But he'd said it anyway — because she was his daughter.

His and Lily's daughter.

Zoey sat perfectly still, her expression smooth as glass over deep water.

No one in that room could tell what was moving underneath.

The truth was, she'd already known.

The moment she'd seen Peter's photo, something had snagged in her memory. That face — the line of his brow, the set of his eyes, even the way he frowned — had felt uncomfortably familiar. Like looking at a version of herself she'd never been introduced to.

That unease had been enough. She'd called in Iron Vanguards.

They'd gotten into Peter's residence and retrieved a hair sample.

When the DNA results came back, she'd sat alone in her study and stared at that report for a long time.

Probability of biological relation: 99.99%.

And she'd felt nothing.

Genuinely nothing.

Maybe it was because she'd grown up without a father's love for so long that the concept had gone numb inside her. Aiden wasn't her father — fine. Someone else was — fine. What was the difference?

Besides. She remembered things.

She'd been young — three, maybe four years old.

One night, Aiden had come home drunk and gone after her mother. She'd hidden behind the door, listening. She'd heard him call her mother names — call her damaged goods, accuse her of coming into the marriage already carrying someone else's child.

Her mother had wept.

Then she'd disappeared for a few days.

When she came back, she was thinner. Her eyes were swollen nearly shut.

Not long after that, there was the car accident.

Then Scarlett arrived with Cleo in tow, and moved into the King family home.

Cleo, who was exactly one year older than her.

One year.

Zoey's mouth curved — barely, just at the corner. Not a smile. Something colder than that. Something that had no warmth left in it at all.

"Mr. Smith." Her tone hadn't changed. "My mother's body — where is she?"

Peter's throat tightened.

He wanted to say 'I'm your father.' He wanted to say 'let me make this right.' But looking into those distant eyes, not a single word made it out.

"She's..." He stopped, then pushed through. His voice came out rough. "She's somewhere safe. The research is still ongoing, but her remains are completely intact. Nothing has been disturbed."

Zoey nodded once. "I'll need to see for myself."

"Of course." He said it quickly. "I'll take you."

She held his gaze, her expression unreadable. "Then make the arrangements."

She stood, and looked at Alexander. "Let's go."

Alexander rose and settled his arm around her waist, and they walked out together.

As they passed Peter, Zoey slowed for just a moment.

"Mr. Smith." She didn't turn around. "It's been over twenty years. I got used to not having a father a long time ago. Let's leave it at that."

Peter's body went rigid.

He watched her walk away — back straight, steps unhurried, not a single glance behind her.

The tears came before he could stop them.

Finn crossed to him and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Don't push. Give her time."

Peter shook his head, his voice breaking. "Professor Garcia — she won't have me. She won't have me..."

Finn sighed.

Some things couldn't be forced.

---

Out in the hallway, Zoey moved quickly, the sharp click of her heels against the floor cutting through the quiet.

Alexander stayed at her side without a word, his hand holding hers — steady, and tight.

At the elevator, she stopped.

She turned to face him.

Her eyes were still calm. But Alexander could see it — something underneath that stillness, trembling just below the surface.

"Zoey." His voice was gentle.

She looked at him. Then, just barely, she smiled.

It was a faint thing — the kind a strong wind could erase.

"I already knew." The words came out soft. "I had someone pull his DNA. When I saw the results..." She paused. "I didn't feel anything."

Alexander's chest tightened.

"Zoey—"

"I really didn't." She cut him off, her eyes finding his. "Do you know why?"

He didn't answer. He just pulled her into his arms.

Zoey pressed her face against his chest and listened to the steady beat of his heart, and felt the sting behind her eyes before she was ready for it.

"Because I stopped hoping a long time ago," she said, her voice muffled against him. "I stopped hoping when I was still a little kid."

Alexander held her tighter.

"You don't have to hope for that anymore." His voice was low and warm against her ear. "You have me. That's enough."

Zoey didn't answer. She just turned her face into his chest and let herself stay there.

The elevator arrived.

They stepped in together. The doors slid shut.

Zoey leaned into Alexander's shoulder, and something came back to her.

"Do you think, when my mom disappeared for those few days — do you think she went to find him?"

Alexander tilted his head down to look at her. "Why think about that now?"

She shook her head slightly. "No reason. I just remembered — when she came back, she seemed... less broken than before."

A pause. Her voice dropped lower. "Maybe that was when she found out she was pregnant."

Alexander said nothing. He pressed a quiet kiss to her forehead instead.

The elevator descended, floor by floor.

Zoey closed her eyes and let his warmth be the only thing around her.

She was going to find out the truth about what happened to her mother. All of it.

As for Peter...

She opened her eyes and caught her own reflection in the steel doors.

He really did look like her.