Forgotten Daughter, Unforgettable Comeback

Lilah Walsh had just returned from the countryside when a bucket of cold water drenched her before she could even step through the door.

For an instant, instinct urged her to fight back—but a sharp, disdainful voice cut through first. "Who knows what kind of germs you picked up out there? Since you're already soaked, you might as well wash up and get examined before setting foot inside."

Lilah's gaze hardened as it landed on Lachlan Walsh—her father, the man who had discarded her like unwanted baggage years ago.

Ignoring the startled servants rushing to restrain her, Lilah strode into the living room, water dripping from her hair and clothes. Without hesitation, she seized a glass from the table and flung its contents squarely at the maid who had drenched her. "Better to be physically sick than rotten to the core," she muttered evenly as she fixed her gaze on Lachlan, her voice cold enough to still the room.

Years back, Lilah's mother—Lachlan's first wife—had become seriously ill and eventually died after giving birth to Lilah. Within weeks, Lachlan had sent the infant Lilah to her grandmother's remote village and married his longtime mistress, the secretary who had warmed his bed for years.

For eighteen long years, not once had Lachlan bothered to visit Lilah.

Not long ago, after suffering serious injuries during her last mission, Lilah had been left with lingering complications. Her grandmother, believing Lilah's condition to be terminal, had reluctantly contacted Lachlan to send Lilah to his side for proper treatment.

Accepting that her days might be numbered, Lilah had agreed to return—partly to ease her grandmother's concern, and partly to make Lachlan answer for his past cruelty.

The weight of Lilah's gaze made Lachlan stiffen, a pulse of indignation tightening his features. He'd already confirmed with the doctor that Lilah's condition was terminal—half a month left at best. That was the only reason he'd caved to the old woman's plea. Yet, two full weeks had passed, and Lilah was not only alive but standing there, very much defiant.

Lachlan had agreed to bring Lilah back solely for the shares her grandmother still controlled, but the thought of Lilah's illness made his skin crawl. What if she were contagious? He'd counted on Lilah having the sense to refuse moving in, to spare them all the discomfort—but she hadn't.

Lachlan drew a breath to speak, his expression darkening like a gathering storm. But before he could say a word, a sharp voice cut through the air. "Watch your damn mouth! You should be grateful Dad even agreed to take you back!"

The interruption drew Lilah's gaze toward the staircase, where Elissa Walsh descended in a flurry of perfume and polished heels, every inch of her perfectly put together.

Elissa was Lachlan's younger daughter—his mistress's child—born only three months after Lilah.

Elissa sauntered up and looped her arm through Lachlan's with practiced sweetness. "Country bumpkins really don't know how to behave, do they?"

Lilah's lips curved in a smile