Stevenson walked over to the bed, but before he could sit down, he froze in place. For a long moment, he stood there, then finally perched on the edge of the mattress with his back to her, silent.
Charlotte stepped in front of him. “Mr. Donovan, you know about the 322 child abduction case, don’t you? You saw those two kids who escaped into the village, right?”
“I…” Stevenson couldn’t meet her gaze; sweat was breaking out along his hairline.
“The girl you saw that day—was she wearing a pale yellow sweater, with white overalls on top?”
Stevenson was silent for so long, the guilt over his own daughter’s situation seemed to press visibly on him. At last, he looked up. “I should’ve realized that girl was yours.”
Charlotte drew in a deep breath. “So, the person I begged for help before I lost consciousness… that was you?”
“It was me,” Stevenson admitted, his voice thick with remorse. “I’m sorry, child. My family was desperate. That reward money—it was too much for us to resist. I agreed to let my daughter pretend to be Mr. Howard’s savior. I kept telling myself, if we could just get that money, we’d finally escape this life. We could buy a house in the city and live decently, like real people.”
He wiped his tears away with hands that bore the scars of old wounds. “I never thought my daughter would end up like this. I really didn’t…”
Charlotte’s hand curled into a fist at her side.
She remembered the surge of hope and relief she’d felt when, after escaping death, she’d stumbled upon someone from the village. She’d thought, in that moment, how lucky they were.
She’d screamed for help.
At last, someone had come.
She’d given her name, her home address, everything she could before the darkness swallowed her and she passed out.
When she woke up, she was in a hospital bed. Rachel had been there, along with Hiram Sterling, watching over her.
She remembered saying her bracelet was missing.
Rachel had just shrugged and said, “You’re lucky to be alive. Does it really matter about a bracelet?”
She could still hear his words, whispered in her ear:
“When you grow up, come find me at the Howard estate. I’ll protect you for the rest of your life.”
Years later, she’d really gone to the Howards to find him.
But Evander didn’t remember her at all.
Charlotte snapped out of her reverie—the memory of working so hard to please a family who weren’t even her own blood, the memory of risking everything to marry a man for a promise he’d made to her long ago, only to be left with nothing but disappointment. And now, her entire life had been stolen and handed to someone else as if it were nothing at all.
Suddenly, a bitter laugh escaped her lips, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “You and your family got everything you wanted. Me? My adoptive parents are dead, and my real parents belong to someone else now. If I hadn’t learned the truth, would I have spent my whole life living in a lie?”
Stevenson, guilt-ridden, could only keep apologizing, his voice barely a whisper.
Charlotte turned away, dashing away her tears. If she stayed another moment, she knew she’d completely fall apart.
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