Chapter 4

"At the VIP lounge in Teterboro Airport, I suddenly felt severe palpitations. The images... they were too real. Driven by some ghostly instinct, I canceled the trip. On the way back, I used the emergency clearance your grandfather left me to have someone investigate Kevin's offshore accounts and crypto wallets."

Mother pulled a thick manila envelope from the crevices of the sofa cushions, her knuckles turning white as she gripped it.

"That monster we raised for twenty years. Not only has he transferred nearly thirty million dollars of Winslow Holdings' liquid assets over the past two years through fictitious consulting contracts and overseas shell companies, but what's more terrifying is..." Mother's voice trembled with rage. "Lillian Moore is not some pitiful orphan whose parents died! She is Kevin's biological sister! She is the biological sister that the trafficking ring deliberately split up and left in the orphanage as a backup pawn, just to ensure Kevin, that 'smart and beautiful boy,' could be successfully adopted into a prominent family!"

I flipped rapidly through the documents in my hand, the paper feeling both cold and scorching to the touch.

Paternity tests, photocopies of original orphanage records that had been tampered with, images of old birth certificates from an Eastern European country, and the criminal file of Kevin's biological father—a petty leader of an international fraud ring specializing in weaving "perfect adoption" traps.

So that was it.

No wonder Kevin had defended Lillian unconditionally and funneled resources to her in my previous life; no wonder Lillian had been able to enter the Winslow family trust committee so easily and access core financial information.

This was not a spur-of-the-moment betrayal.

This was a plundering that had been meticulously planned and lying in wait for twenty years. Like two parasitic vines, they had wrapped themselves tightly around the great tree of the Winslow family, sucking its nutrients, waiting for the moment to strangle it completely and claim it as their own.

*Click-clack.*

The crisp sound of a key inserting into the lock came from outside the door.

It was followed by my father Richard's furious roar, audible even through the heavy wood: "Open the door! Isabella! Is Emily in there? Get her out here! Look at the 'good deed' she's done today! The Harrington family has already called to terminate all cooperation!"

My mother and I exchanged a quick glance.

There was no fear, only a cold, synchronized resolve.

Isabella quickly dabbed the corners of her eyes with her sleeve, straightened her collar and hair. In the blink of an eye, the elegant, composed, slightly melancholic Mrs. Winslow returned, only her straight back and tight jawline betraying a will of steel.

I walked to the door, placing my hand on the cold bolt.

"Ready?" I asked in a low voice.

"Let them in." Mother's voice was calm and waveless, yet it carried the low pressure of an approaching storm. "It is time to clean house."