Chapter 76 Indulge in enjoy

The heir returned. The phrasing made me sound like a character in some fantasy novel, not a real person with a real life that had nothing to do with family vendettas.

"I’m still trying to adjust to my new identity," I admitted.

“First of all, I’m glad that you don’t reject or deny the truth.

"

Bernard surprised me with its insight: "You're Diana Peters, who is also Elizabeth Diana Morris. Both are true. Neither negates the other."

I stared at those words for a long time.

Can I keep myself when I really maintain two identities?

Maybe, but not now, the future maybe can.

The topic made me a little tired, and I finally changed the topic over.

"Enjoy your meetings in Chicago."

"I rarely enjoy meetings," His response was a little dry.

"But I appreciate the sentiment. Rest well, Diana. We'll talk more when I return."

I set my phone aside and moved back to the window, watching as Manhattan turned to a sea of lights beneath the darkening sky. Down there, people were going about their normal lives—heading to dinner, returning home from work, meeting friends for drinks.

My stomach growled, reminding me I hadn't eaten since that coffee shop pastry hours ago. I rummaged through the kitchen, finding it stocked with gourmet ingredients that would require actual cooking skills to transform into a meal.

Remembering Bernard's text about a chef on call, I hesitated before finally picking up the apartment phone and dialing zero.

"Guest services," a pleasant voice answered.

"Hi, this is Diana Peters in the guest suite," I said, feeling awkward. "I was told there might be a chef available?"

"Of course, Ms. Peters. Chef Marco is on duty this evening. Would you like him to prepare something specific, or would you prefer his recommendation?"

"Um, his recommendation would be great," I said. "Nothing too fancy though."

"Certainly. Chef Marco will prepare something suitable and have it sent up within thirty minutes. Would you like wine paired with your meal?"

"Sure," I agreed, figuring I could use a glass of wine after the day I'd had.

True to promise, exactly thirty minutes later there was a knock at the door. A young man in a service uniform stood there with a covered tray.

"Your dinner, Ms. Peters," he said with a smile. "Chef Marco prepared his signature pasta primavera with a side of garlic bread and a glass of Pinot Grigio."

"That sounds perfect," I said, surprised by how hungry I suddenly felt. "Thank you."

The meal was delicious—the pasta fresh and the vegetables perfectly crisp-tender. The wine was excellent too, though I limited myself to one glass because I wanting to keep my head clear.

As I ate at the dining table overlooking the city, I tried to imagine what my life might look like if I fully embraced being Elizabeth Diana Morris.

"One step at a time," I reminded myself, echoing Tommy's advice.

After dinner, I drew a bath in the enormous soaking tub, adding some of the expensive bath salts I found arranged on a silver tray. As I sank into the hot, fragrant water, I felt some of the tension begin to leave my body. My body has already begun to enjoy, although I have not yet recognized my new identity.

I closed my eyes, letting the warmth envelop me, trying to quiet my mind for the first time since learning about my true identity.

"Hello, Elizabeth Diana Morris," I whispered to myself, testing the name, feeling its pronunciation. "Nice to finally meet you."

It felt strange, foreign.

For the first time since Bernard's truth, I felt a flicker of curiosity rather than just shock and anger. What would it be like to meet Gregory Morris as his granddaughter rather than an employee? To visit the woman who had given birth to me? To explore the Morris family unknown history that was, apparently, my birthright?

And what about Bernard? Could I ever see him as just Bernard again, not Uncle Bernard? Could we find some way to continue the love between us without being defined by it?

Questions for tomorrow, I decided as I reluctantly left the cooling bath water.

As I slipped into the bedroom-my phone buzzed one last time. A text from Bernard:

"You're safe where you are. Johnson's people still monitoring your apartment but have no way to track you to current location. Try to rest. And Diana—whatever you decide about your place in the Morris family, know that finding you matters more than any corporate interest or inheritance. It matters because you matter."

I stared at the message, surprised by the soft emotion with it. It sounded almost... heartfelt.

I set the phone on the nightstand without responding. Bernard's words, like everything else in this situation, would need to be processed later, when I had more emotional bandwidth.

For now, I crawled into the obscenely comfortable bed, turned out the light, and let exhaustion claim me. My last conscious thought before sleep took over was a question I couldn't yet answer:

Finally I indulge in luxury life, enjoy，love，the truth, perhaps, who cares.