Chapter 146
In the passenger seat, his subordinate, Finn, hesitated for a moment, his surprise evident. "Mr. Moretti, you mean..."
"DNA test." Vincent opened his eyes, a flash of ruthlessness crossing his gaze. "He's always wanted to prove Elizabeth isn't his daughter, hasn't he? Help him. Give him the most authoritative institution, the most irrefutable evidence."
"And," he paused, then continued, "check into Sawyer's assets in the country. Move what can be moved. And for those that can't, make sure he understands this isn't a place for him to run wild."
Finn acknowledged with a nod and immediately began making arrangements.
Vincent leaned back into his seat, watching the rapidly receding cityscape through the window. His eyes were dark and stormy, his face devoid of any expression.
'Elizabeth, you took my daughter away from me. I'll make sure you lose everything.'
A few days later, a piece of news exploded in the city like a bombshell.
An authoritative testing agency issued a DNA test report, plainly and unmistakably stating that Charles and Elizabeth have no biological relation.
Charles personally held a press conference, tearfully denouncing Elizabeth for "impersonating a Windsor family member" and "usurping others' property," demanding that the court re-examine Hughes's will and revoke Elizabeth's inheritance rights.
Reporters swarmed, cameras flashing incessantly.
Someone asked, "Mr. Brown, why didn't you reveal this fact earlier?"
Charles wiped his tears, choking up, "Because I always treated her as my own daughter! I wanted to spare her the embarrassment! But what she did to my daughter, I can't tolerate anymore!"
Someone asked, "What did Ms. Windsor do to your daughter?"
Charles shook his head, feigning a "family matters should not be aired" kind of pain, without giving a clear answer.
But the more he withheld, the more the reporters' interest piqued. Speculations, rumors, and conspiracy theories began to spread wildly across the media.
Elizabeth became the target of public scorn.
Some called her a "fraud," others a "deceiver," and many questioned her marriage to Jacob. Even her "black history," the incident of having a child at eighteen, was dredged up and sensationalized.
Outside Smith Manor, reporters gathered in droves.
Elizabeth stood by the window, gazing at the crowd wielding cameras and microphones, her face an unreadable mask.
Behind her, Jacob's voice emerged. "Do you need me to handle this?"
Elizabeth shook her head, a faint smile playing on her lips.
"No need," she said. "Let them have their circus."
She turned to face him, her eyes clear and calm. "In fact, I'm curious to see how many more will come out of the woodwork."
Jacob regarded her, then unexpectedly laughed.
He approached and enveloped her in his arms, resting his chin on her head.
"Alright," he said. "If you want to play, I'll play along with you."
The commotion outside persisted, but the two, wrapped in their embrace, seemed like a fortress impervious to the storm.
Elsewhere, Sawyer glanced at the newspaper in his hand, a smile of complex meaning curling his lips.
"Interesting," he murmured. "It's getting more and more interesting."
He set down the newspaper, gazing out of the window.
The moon hung high, and beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, the city's nightscape glittered like a river of stars.
Sawyer's smile gradually stiffened.
He picked up the newspaper again, his eyes fixating on the DNA test report.
The result contradicted the one he had painstakingly obtained.
Which one was true? In his heart, Sawyer already knew the answer.
Elizabeth was his half-sister.
He wanted to laugh, or perhaps rage, yet found himself capable of neither.
He recalled the night he first saw her, in a private booth at Aurora Bar. She stood beside Jacob, cool and distant, yet her gaze lingered on him for a fleeting moment. At the time, he thought it was mere curiosity from a woman toward an unfamiliar man.
He remembered the parlor's probing conversation and her watertight responses. He remembered her standing on the yacht beside Uri, wearing a mask, her figure graceful and poised. He remembered her shielding Jacob with unwavering resolve.
He remembered those unfathomable feelings he harbored for her.
Those stray thoughts that surfaced at night, those fleeting moments of discomfort when he saw her and Jacob together, those inexplicable heartbeats when he thought of her.
He thought it was just curiosity about an intriguing woman. He thought it was simply because she was Jacob's woman, a vulnerability of his rival. He thought...
But it turned out to be the pull of blood.
It was sibling instinct.
Ridiculous.
Utterly ridiculous.
Sawyer closed his eyes, drawing a deep breath. When he reopened them, the icy calmness in his gray eyes had returned, devoid of any emotion.
He set the report aside and walked to the liquor cabinet, pouring himself a drink.
That woman, who had once sparked both curiosity and interest, was his sister.
A Scott family bloodline.
The true master of Nightfall, the manipulation of the DNA test revealed she was far more cunning than she appeared. Not only did she know her heritage, but she was orchestrating everything from behind the scenes. That man named "Uri" was merely a decoy, a stand-in. The real "Noel" was her.
His sister.
Sawyer downed his drink in one gulp, the spirit burning its way down his throat. He placed the glass down, turning to head for the door.
"Prepare the car," he instructed Justin at the entrance. "We're going to that place."
In the basement of an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the city.
Sawyer pushed open the door, the stench of mildew, blood, and despair hitting him in a wave. He wrinkled his nose but didn't stop.
In the dimly lit basement, a single yellow light bulb dangled from above, illuminating the corner where a huddled figure lay.
Lilith Moretti.
She had been kept here for nearly half a month. Her body bore a crisscross of fresh and old wounds, her once meticulously maintained hair now a tangled mess, her makeup smeared beyond recognition, her frame gaunt and frail.
The once arrogant and haughty Moretti family heiress now resembled a discarded stray, cowering and shivering in the corner.
At the sound of footsteps, she jerked her head up. Recognizing Sawyer, a flicker of fear crossed her eyes, quickly replaced by desperation.
"Mr. Scott, please, let me go..." She croaked, trying to crawl toward him but held back by the chains on her ankles, leaving her to cringe on the ground, her voice hoarse. "My father will pay... whatever you want... please..."
Sawyer looked down at her, his face expressionless.
Lilith had been an arbitrary capture, initially valued for her status as a potential bargaining chip, now unexpectedly showing some worth.