Chapter 542 - 138 Blood Reveals Truth

Chapter 542: Chapter 138 Blood Reveals Truth

Lila’s POV

The moment my family walked through the door of Daniel’s penthouse looking like they had just attended a funeral in enemy territory, I knew something was terribly wrong. My father’s weathered face bore the weight of a man who had seen too many family betrayals, Beckett paced the marble floor like a caged wolf ready to tear apart anyone who threatened our bloodline, my sister-in-law wore that practiced smile she reserved for when Sullivan family business went sideways, and Daniel—my protector—looked like a man who had just discovered his worst fears about the underworld were true.

Something was definitely catastrophic.

Zoe had left earlier after spending the afternoon helping me recover from the recent kidnapping ordeal. We had laughed until our sides ached, watched classic crime films, devoured imported chocolates and pastries, and I had even shared secrets I normally kept buried deeper than family enemies. When Jude and Sybilla arrived later with their security detail, they had done their best to distract me from the trauma, making my recent brush with dangerous enemies seem like a distant nightmare. But they too had quietly departed with their bodyguards, leaving just my inner circle and the suffocating silence that filled rooms when mafia families faced existential threats.

"Speak," I commanded, studying their faces with the intensity I had learned from watching my father negotiate with rival families. "What’s happened now?"

"Little one," Daniel began carefully, choosing to position himself in the leather armchair across from me instead of beside me on the Italian sofa. My father and Beckett flanked me like soldiers protecting their don. "We have uncovered something that changes everything about your bloodline."

"I’m listening," I said, meeting his gaze directly. "And if you’re wondering where to begin, I suggest you start with whoever’s blood is really running through my veins."

Beckett retrieved his encrypted phone, the kind we all used for family business. "Lila, examine this photograph carefully."

I studied the image on the screen, my breath catching. It appeared to be a portrait of me, but aged using some sophisticated software. I glanced at Beckett, completely bewildered.

"That woman isn’t you," he explained, his voice tight with controlled emotion. I noticed my father’s eyes glistening with the kind of tears reserved for fallen family members.

"Then who is she?" I pressed.

"She’s my mother," Beckett replied, his words hitting like bullets. "You never saw photographs of her because Claire destroyed everything in the family estate, but our grandparents had secretly preserved several images and entrusted them to me when I took over family operations. I keep a private collection and this one secured on my device."

"Remarkable that I bear such resemblance to her," I murmured, examining the photograph again with new understanding.

"Yes, the likeness is extraordinary," Beckett confirmed. "Especially after your recent transformation—the golden highlights, discarding those conservative glasses and dental work, updating your style. The resemblance only became undeniable after you stopped hiding behind Claire’s preferred image of you."

"So that explains why everyone in the family reacted with such shock when they saw me at your estate that evening. But what are the implications?" I demanded.

"It means," Beckett said slowly, each word carefully measured, "I suspected you weren’t Claire’s biological daughter. I believed you might be my mother’s child." His revelation echoed in my mind, making the room spin like I had been drugged. "I discussed my suspicions with Daniel, and he launched a comprehensive investigation."

"What did you just tell me?" I struggled to process his words, as if they were spoken in some dialect I couldn’t quite comprehend.

My father cleared his throat with the gravity he reserved for the most serious family meetings. "Daughter, my first wife—Beckett’s mother—was carrying a child and died during delivery. She bore a baby girl who also perished. Allow me to explain the entire sequence of events."

As my father recounted the circumstances surrounding my birth, something cold and predatory stirred in my chest. He had to repeat portions of his account because my mind was reeling so violently I couldn’t focus on his words.

When he concluded, nausea crashed over me like a tidal wave.

"So what precisely are you telling me?" I asked, my voice steady despite the chaos in my head. "From what I comprehend, I’m not Beckett’s mother’s biological daughter, despite bearing her exact features. Is that your conclusion?"

"Little one, the situation is far more complex," Daniel interrupted. "My investigation led me to contact a detective contact, my most trusted ally in the force near your hometown. He’s an exceptional investigator who uncovered disturbing evidence."

Daniel described his colleague’s interview with the corrupted nurse Sonia, the suspicious death of my father’s former household staff member’s sister, the mysterious sealed documents she had transferred before her death, and finally the discovery of a medical journal with deliberately removed pages. The information flooded over me so rapidly I could barely absorb the implications.

"What does this journal reveal?" I asked, anxiety sharpening my voice. "Daniel, what secrets does it contain?"

"The journal documents that Claire was never pregnant," Daniel stated with brutal directness. "It alleges she wore a prosthetic belly and had the corrupt medical staff administer drugs to Beckett’s mother that compromised her blood pressure, and later substances to trigger premature labor."

"Is that what murdered her?" My pulse accelerated dangerously. "Is that what caused your mother’s death, Beckett?"

"Most certainly," Beckett replied, tears streaming down his face as he gripped my hand like a lifeline.

"That woman belongs in a federal prison," I said, fury building inside me like molten steel. "I don’t care if she gave birth to me or not, she must answer for these crimes." I shifted uncomfortably on the sofa, and my father gently stroked my back.

"The legal situation isn’t straightforward," Daniel explained. "The statute of limitations has expired on these particular charges."

"But if Claire was never pregnant, and you buried your wife and daughter," I turned to my father, "then who gave birth to me?"

My father couldn’t speak through his overwhelming grief.

"We cannot be certain," Daniel replied softly. "It could be the woman nurse Sonia mentioned, who reportedly delivered twins. Claire arranged for nurse Aria to deliver Beckett’s mother’s baby on the same night this other woman went into labor. But the journal entries might contain fabrications, and Claire could genuinely be your biological mother."

"I need absolute certainty," I insisted, desperation bleeding through my controlled facade. Then a terrifying possibility struck me. "Wait—if Claire isn’t my mother, does that mean you’re not my father?"

My father broke down completely, his sobs raw and devastating. I held him fiercely, refusing to accept the possibility that I wasn’t the daughter of this incredible man who had loved me unconditionally and taught me everything valuable about loyalty, honor, and family. His anguish tore through my heart like shattered glass, and in that moment, DNA seemed utterly irrelevant compared to the lifetime of devotion we had shared.