Chapter 8 - TWO FACES
Silence descended on the sub-basement like a heavy shroud.
Mara felt the ground tilt beneath her feet. "Twin... sister? No. I don't have a sister. I grew up in foster care in Ohio!"
"Your foster records were fabricated by the Volkov council thirty years ago," Julian said, his breath rattling in his chest. "When the Moretti and Volkov families made their peace treaty, they didn't just give one daughter to Damian. They kept one daughter as an insurance policy in case the treaty failed."
Damian stepped toward Mara, staring at her face as if seeing her for the very first time. The resemblance to his late wife, Elena, had always been subtle—masked by Mara's simple clothes, lack of makeup, and quiet demeanor. But now, under the harsh fluorescent lights of the vault, the truth was undeniable.
She wasn't just a maid who looked like Elena. She had Elena’s eyes, her jawline, her posture.
"If Mara is Elena's twin..." Damian said slowly, turning his icy gaze back to Julian, "...then who was buried in Elena’s grave four years ago?"
Julian swallowed hard, sweat dripping down his pale forehead. "No one was buried in that grave, Damian. The coffin was empty. Elena didn't die in that crash."
Lila squirmed in Mara's arms, looking around the cold basement. She pointed toward the open vault door, signing rapidly: Lady in dark coat. Watching.
Damian’s head snapped toward the entrance of the sub-basement.
Standing in the shadows near the elevator bank was a slender figure in a long tailored dark coat, her face partially hidden by the collar. Soft brown curls spilled over her shoulders.
The woman slowly stepped into the pale fluorescent light.
Mara stared at the woman's face—it was like looking into a mirror.
"Hello, Damian," the woman said, her voice smooth, cultured, and devoid of fear. "You look surprised to see your wife."
Damian lowered his gun half an inch, his voice a dangerous whisper. "Elena."
"Don't shoot her, Boss!" Marco warned, drawing his own gun and aiming it directly at the woman. "She's the one who accessed the terminal upstairs!"
Elena didn't even look at Marco. Her eyes swept over Mara, then landed on little Lila, who was staring at her with wide, innocent eyes.
"You brought my daughter into this dump, Damian?" Elena said coldly. "How predictable."
Mara stepped forward, holding Lila tighter. "She isn't your daughter! She's mine!"
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Elena chuckled—a quiet, bitter sound. She pulled a folded piece of official paper from her coat pocket and tossed it onto the concrete floor between them.
"Read the birth certificate, sister," Elena said smoothly. "You were just the surrogate. I own that child."
