Chapter 14
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LETICIA’S POV
Shit. Shit, Shit!
I clenched my phone so tightly my fingers ached. The dial tone droned in my ear before finally–finally–my brother picked up.
“Damon, I need you to do something for me.”
There was a pause before his bored voice came through the line. “I’m busy.”
I rolled my eyes, frustration rising. “I don’t give a damn. I need Valeria Lancaster gone.”
Silence. Then a sigh. “Leticia-”
“She’s a threat to me, Damon! I know you have men-”
“I’m in another city,” he cut me off, irritation creeping into his tone. “Because your dear Benjamin threw me here for work. Do you really think I’m going to risk his wrath by getting involved in your petty jealousy?”
Jealousy?
I gritted my teeth, nails digging into my palm. “She’s manipulating him!”
He huffed, clearly unimpressed. “And? You think Benjamin doesn’t know? He plays his own games, Leticia. Stop acting like some desperate-”
I ended the call before I could scream at him. My whole body shook with rage. Useless. He was useless. I threw my phone onto the bed, chest rising and falling in sharp, uneven breaths. My gaze flickered down to my hand–to the damn ring Benjamin had given me. The ring that was supposed to mean something. My fingers trembled as I pulled it off. For a moment, I just stared at it, at the way it caught the light, reflecting a promise that had long since shattered. Then I threw it to the floor, watching as it bounced and spun across the marble.
I stomped on it. Once. Twice. Again and again until my heel scratched the gold, until the delicate setting bent beneath my fury.
I hated it! I hated her. I stormed over to the dresser, grabbed the remote, and turned on the news. Maybe a distraction. Maybe something to pull me from this suffocating anger- I
froze.
My stomach dropped. Her. Valeria Lancaster’s face filled the screen, her poised expression, that knowing smirk. That face. That voice. That fucking smirk.
No. No. No. No.
I felt it like a punch to the gut, like the air had been stolen from my lungs. My nails dug deeper into my palm as I took a shaky step back, heart hammering against my ribs. I know her. I fucking know her.
The way she moved. The way she spoke. The way she carried herself like she owned the entire goddamn world. That’s… Nevaeh.
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14:46 Wed, 2 Apr
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My breath hitched, the realization crashing into me like a tidal wave, drowning me in ice–cold shock. No. It’s not possible. It can’t be possible. So, Nevaeh and Valeria are one?
I grabbed my phone, fingers shaking as I scrolled through my contacts. I knew what I had to do. If no one would help me, I’d help myself. I needed proof.
I took Benjamin’s credit card from my purse–the same one he gave me for ‘emergencies’- and transferred a shitload of money. Then I called the best investigator money could buy.
And I waited.
***
Two Days Later
I sat in my room, staring at the thick envelope on my lap, fingers frozen around the edges. My hands shook as I reached for it. I had wanted proof. Now I had it.
I pulled out the files, my breath unsteady, my pulse deafening in my ears. First–Valeria Lancaster’s records. Everything. Date of birth. Medical records. Financials. Every detail meticulously documented.
I turned the page. And my blood turned to ice. The next page–Nevaeh Willoughby. The same. The same habits. The same speech patterns. The same goddamn mannerisms.
I flipped through the pictures. Before. After. The scars. The cosmetics surgery. The altered features. But the same fucking woman. My fingers lost their grip. The files slipped from my hands, scattering across the floor.
Valeria Lancaster is Nevaeh. And then–then it hit me. Romano. My breath hitched. Romano? My hands trembled as I picked up another page, my vision blurring.
Evander Romano. Valeria. She’s his sister.
Romano. Romano. The family we wiped out.
My chest tightened, air struggling to reach my lungs. We killed them. Benjamin and I–we destroyed his family before and I thought that fucking Nevaeh killed herself on that damn
car!
My whole body locked up, fear and fury tangling in my veins. I grabbed my phone and dialed Benjamin’s number, pressing it to my ear, willing him to pick up.
No answer. I called again. Voicemail.I clenched my jaw, swallowing down the sheer panic clawing up my throat.
I needed to tell him. I needed to- My phone buzzed. A message from Dominic.
“Benjamin’s having dinner. Restaurant on Fifth.”
With her. I snapped. I shoved the files into my bag, grabbed my keys, and stormed out.
I wasn’t just going to tell Benjamin. I was going to show him. And then, then I was going to kill that bitch myself.
***
VALERIA’S POV
I knew Leticia was coming before she even set foot inside the restaurant. The investigator
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VALERIA’S POV
I knew Leticia was coming before she even set foot inside the restaurant. The investigator
she’d hired? Mine. The files she thought she’d uncovered? I gave them to her. She thought she was hunting me. I led her straight into the trap.
I lifted my wine glass, swirling the deep red liquid inside as I glanced at Benjamin across the candlelit table. He was talking, something about an upcoming deal, but I wasn’t listening. My attention was elsewhere on the storm brewing just beyond the restaurant
doors.
And then–Bang.
The entrance slammed open, the soft hum of conversation in the restaurant shattered as Leticia stormed inside. Her eyes were wild, her breath uneven, and in her clenched fists- the files.
Ah. She’d taken the bait.
I took a slow sip of my wine, watching with detached amusement as she stomped toward our table, heels clicking sharply against the floor. “Benjamin,” she seethed, her voice high and shaking. “You need to listen to me–right now.”
Benjamin barely spared her a glance, irritated by the interruption. “Leticia, whatever it is-” “It’s her,” she hissed, pointing a shaking finger at me. “Valeria Lancaster is fucking Nevaeh!
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Slap. She slap me.
The restaurant gasped in collective shock. I hadn’t moved. I hadn’t flinched. I just sat there, still as death, as the sting bloomed across my cheek. Leticia’s chest heaved, her hand trembling from the force of the slap.
I reached up, gently touching the spot she’d hit. Then I tilted my head, my lips curling into the slowest, most deliberate smile. “You’re angry,” I mused. “How cute.”
“You bitch!” she shrieked, lunging again, but Benjamin shot out an arm, stopping her. “That’s enough,” he growled. His grip on her was tight, but his eyes… His eyes were on me. Fascinated. Conflicted. Obsessive. He didn’t even care that she’d hit me.
And that realization made Leticia snap. “You don’t believe me?” she spat, jerking her arm away from Benjamin’s hold. “Fine. I have proof.”
She threw the files onto the table, papers scattering like fallen leaves. Benjamin stiffened. I leaned forward lazily, plucking one of the papers between my fingers. Ah, yes. My old fingerprints. My old life. The undeniable truth that Valeria Sinclair does not exist. Only Nevaeh Willoughby.
And yet I wasn’t afraid.
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