Chapter 157 The Twin Revelation？
Charlotte: POV
I slumped in my office chair, my whole body feeling like someone had wrung it out and left it to dry. The confrontation with David at Riverside Café still echoed in my head—his voice, his threats, his fucking audacity to call my mother a whore.
Michael appeared in the doorway with a glass of water, his expression carefully neutral but his eyes concerned. "You should drink something."
I took the glass, my hands trembling slightly. The cool water did nothing to ease the knot in my stomach. "If he actually goes through with it... if he releases that shit about my mother..."
David would do it. I knew him well enough to know that. When cornered, he'd burn everything down rather than surrender.
"One step at a time," Michael said quietly.
Just then, my office door burst open.
Olivia strode in, her expression grim. "David's definitely going to leak it."
I shot to my feet, nearly knocking over the water glass. "Olivia, is it too late to hire a hitman? I'm serious. I want that bastard dead."
"Illegal," she replied flatly, but there was a hint of amusement in her eyes.
"I can't just—"
"Don't panic." She cut me off, pulling a photograph from the folder in her hands. "Look at this first."
I grabbed the photo, my eyes scanning it quickly. Then I threw it on the floor with enough force that it skittered across the hardwood. "David. I want him fucking dead."
"Look again," Olivia said, her voice patient but insistent.
Michael had already moved to pick up the photo. He glanced at it, then handed it back to me. "Ms. Caldwell, that's not David Grant."
"What?" I snatched the photo back, studying it more carefully.
The man in the picture looked exactly like David—same sharp features, same cold eyes, same calculating expression. But something was off. He was sitting in a wheelchair, and behind him, I could make out a sign: [Bay Area Psychiatric Institute.
"Why is he in a wheelchair?" I asked, my voice rising. "And what the hell is he doing at a mental hospital?"
Olivia's expression was deadly serious. "Identity swap. Classic bait-and-switch."
Her finger pointed to the man in the photo. "I've already arranged for him to be brought here. He'll arrive this evening. And I've confirmed something else—David has visited this hospital three times a year for the past fifteen years to see this man, Cole Stone..."
My brain started piecing together the puzzle, and what emerged made my stomach turn.
I knew some things about my mother's husband—that he was an orphan, that he'd done well in school, that he'd met my mother by chance and married her. Their early relationship had been harmonious, loving even.
Olivia and I had initially theorized that my mother didn't know I wasn't David's biological child because her husband had been replaced. If this was a premeditated substitution from the start, then deceiving everyone would have been possible...
But we needed proof. A DNA test would be enough.
In that moment, I felt my confidence solidify. No wonder Olivia had told me to trust my mother.
Turns out there was an even more fucked-up possibility than we'd imagined.
"Olivia, how did you even discover this?" I rushed forward and grabbed her in a fierce hug, my arms wrapping tight around her shoulders.
Thank God for Olivia. Without her, I never would have thought of something like this. She'd been the one to suggest the DNA test in the first place. These kinds of twisted scenarios—who the hell would even think of them?
Olivia was my biggest asset, my secret weapon.
"I had people dig into David's background," she replied, her voice matter-of-fact. "Found some interesting financial transactions and travel patterns. This was an accidental discovery, really."
She paused, her expression thoughtful. "Your mother's family and the company were both stable back then. Your mother didn't know you weren't her husband's child, yet the photos show her looking at him with complete devotion. That contradiction bothered me."
"Humans have a sixth sense," she continued. "An evolutionary quirk that picks up on things our conscious minds miss. So I had Rachel dig deeper into David's past. Turns out, we hit gold."
I pulled back from the hug, my mind racing. "So you think... you think this Cole guy might actually be my biological father?"
"Only one way to find out." Olivia glanced at her watch. "He arrives at five. We'll do the DNA test tonight at a private facility I've arranged. Should have results by morning."
The afternoon crawled by. I tried to focus on work—reviewing contracts, answering emails, pretending like my entire world wasn't about to shift on its axis again.
Michael stayed close, bringing me coffee when mine went cold, gently reminding me to eat when I forgot about lunch. His presence was grounding, even if he maintained that careful professional distance.
"You're doing that thing again," I said around three o'clock, catching him watching me from his position by the window.
"What thing?" He didn't even pretend not to know what I meant.
"That protective hovering thing. Like I'm going to shatter into a million pieces if you look away."
His lips quirked slightly. "Would you?"
The question caught me off guard. "Would I what?"
"Shatter." His eyes met mine, and there was something vulnerable in them. "If I looked away?"
My throat went tight. "Relax, I won't. I'm not that weak."
He crossed the room then, moving to stand beside my desk.
"Then I won't look away," he said simply.
Before I could respond, my phone buzzed. Olivia: He's here. Bay Area Medical Center, private wing. Room 304.
I stood, my legs feeling shaky. "It's time."
Michael's hand found the small of my back, steadying me. "I'm right here."
Bay Area Medical Center's private wing was all hushed tones and expensive art on the walls. Olivia met us in the hallway outside Room 304, her expression unreadable.
"He's... fragile," she warned. "Mentally and physically. The hospital staff says he has good days and bad days. Today seems to be a good one, but be prepared."
I nodded, my mouth too dry to speak.
Michael's hand pressed more firmly against my back. "Want me to come in with you?"
"Please," I whispered.
Olivia pushed open the door, and we stepped inside.
The man in the wheelchair looked exactly like David—and nothing like him at all. Same features, yes, but where David radiated cold calculation, this man seemed... broken. Hollow.
His hands trembled in his lap, and his eyes—those familiar cold eyes—darted around the room nervously. He was thin to the point of gauntness, his hospital gown hanging off his frame.
"Cole," Olivia said gently, moving to crouch beside the wheelchair. "This is Charlotte Caldwell. Emily's daughter."
Cole's head snapped up, his eyes locking onto my face. For a long moment, he just stared.
Then his eyes filled with tears.
"Emily," he whispered, his voice cracking. "You look just like Emily."
I felt Michael's hand tighten on my back, anchoring me.
"Hi," I managed, my voice coming out small. "I'm Charlotte."
"Charlotte." Cole repeated my name like a prayer.
I moved closer, pulled by something I couldn't name.
Cole's trembling hands reached toward me, then dropped back to his lap. "That I'm your father. Your real father. Not him. Me."
The room tilted. I felt Michael's arm slide around my waist, holding me upright.
"How?" The word came out barely audible.
Cole's face crumpled. His mental state suddenly deteriorated again. “I don't know; I don't remember.”
Looking closer, I could see traces of abuse on his body; his skin was marked with needle punctures. My heart squeezed tight.
"We need to do a DNA test," Olivia said, pulling out a testing kit. "To confirm."