Chapter 163 The Timeline
Julian：POV
"She hates me, Blake. With every fiber of her being." I kept my eyes fixed on my whiskey, watching the liquid catch the light. "Earlier at the hospital, when our eyes met, what I saw there... it wasn't confusion or fear. It was raw hatred."
Blake leaned forward, his expression shifting from casual interest to sharp concern. "What happened at the hospital?"
"Alexander was there with a little girl—four years old, maybe three and a half. Brown hair, Elena's eyes." My voice cracked despite my best efforts to keep it steady. "Elena was holding the child like she was protecting her from me. Like I was some kind of monster."
"And Elena herself?"
"She told me to stay away from her daughter. Her daughter, Blake." I took another drink, the alcohol burning my throat. "She doesn't remember me at all."
Blake went absolutely still. "Memory loss?"
"Has to be. When I said her name—Elena Vance—she looked at me like I was insane. Said her name was Elena Hunt. This isn't the first time either—I ran into her at a store few days ago, and she had the same blank stare. But today..." I ran my hand through my hair, frustrated. "Today she wasn't just confused. She was furious. Like seeing me triggered something violent in her, even if she doesn't know why."
"Jesus." Blake sat back. "So she's been living with Alexander for four years, doesn't remember you, and now she sees you as a threat to her child."
"That's about the size of it." The bitterness in my voice surprised even me. "But Blake, think about the timeline. Elena disappeared four years ago, right after her mother died. And this little girl..."
Blake's eyes sharpened with sudden understanding. "Four years old."
"Yeah." The word came out rough. "And the last time Elena and I were together..."
The memory hit me like a freight train—Elena beneath me the night before I left for Singapore, her nails digging into my shoulders, the desperate way she'd clung to me like she was drowning and I was the only thing keeping her afloat.
"The night before I left for my business trip," I said quietly. "I never should have gone to Singapore."
Blake leaned forward, his lawyer's mind already working through implications. "Julian, are you saying what I think you're saying?"
I slammed my hand on the table, making the glasses jump and the few remaining patrons glance our way. The thought that had been circling in the back of my mind, the possibility I'd been too afraid to voice, suddenly crystallized into sharp, painful clarity.
"That little girl could be mine." My voice came out rough, barely above a whisper. "Blake, what if Elena was pregnant when she disappeared? What if she didn't know, or didn't get the chance to tell me?"
"It's possible," Blake said carefully. "The timing fits. If Elena was pregnant when she vanished, if Alexander found her somehow and she's been living with him all this time thinking he's the father..."
"Or if she did know and I was too much of a bastard to listen." The guilt was a physical weight on my chest. I thought back to those last weeks before Elena vanished—had there been signs? Had she tried to tell me? Had I been too consumed with my own shit to notice?
"You can't know that," Blake said, but his tone suggested he thought it was entirely possible. "The point is, if that child is yours, you have a right to know. But you need to be smart about this."
"I need to find out the truth." I forced myself to think through the alcohol haze. "I need to investigate Elena—where she's been these past four years, how she ended up with Alexander, medical records if we can get them, birth certificates for the child..."
"All of which will take time and discretion," Blake interrupted. "You can't just charge in demanding DNA tests and custody rights. If Elena really doesn't remember you, if she's been living with Alexander for four years thinking he's her savior, you need to understand the full situation before you make a move."
He was right. God, he was right. But every instinct I had was screaming at me to find Elena right now, to shake her until she remembered, to demand answers about that little girl who might be my daughter.
"I'll start first thing tomorrow," I said, my mind already racing ahead.
"And if the child is yours?" Blake asked quietly.
"Then I'll fight for her." My jaw clenched. "I need to know everything—when she was born, where, who's listed on the birth certificate. If that little girl is my daughter and Alexander's been raising her as his own..."
"Then you'll have legal grounds to pursue custody," Blake finished. "But Julian, even if she is yours, even if you can prove it—Elena doesn't remember you. She hates you on sight for reasons she can't even explain. You can't force her to come back to you just because you share a child."
The truth of that hit me like a punch to the gut. Even if I could prove that little girl was mine, even if I had every legal right to claim her, Elena was a stranger to me now. Whatever we'd had—the good, the bad, the devastating—was gone from her mind as completely as if it had never existed.
"I don't care," I said, and I meant it. "Maybe Elena will never remember me, maybe she'll hate me forever. But if that child is mine, I have a right to know her. And maybe... maybe that's a second chance I don't deserve but I'm going to take anyway."
Blake studied me for a long moment, then sighed and pulled out his phone. "I'll send you the contact information for that investigator. His name's Damien Ashford—former MI6, now does private work for people who can afford his rates. He's discreet, thorough, and he doesn't ask questions about why you need the information."
"Thank you." The relief that washed over me was almost painful in its intensity.
Blake stood, pulling out his wallet to settle the tab. "But right now, you're going to let me take you back to your place before you drink yourself into a coma. Because you can't investigate anything if you're unconscious in a hospital bed."