Chapter 7
Arvilla gasped, pressing a hand to her chest in fake surprise. "Everette? I had no idea you'd be in this suite."
Everette let go of the door handle and took a step back. He looked at her as if she were a piece of rotting garbage on his shoe.
Arvilla ignored his disgust. She stepped closer on her ten-centimeter heels, invading his space.
She lowered her voice, forcing her eyes to water. "Today is the five-year anniversary of my sister's death."
At the word sister, the temperature in the room plummeted. Everette's jaw turned to granite.
"I saw you downstairs," Arvilla whispered, reaching out a hand with blood-red nails to touch the sleeve of his suit. "You looked so lonely. It breaks my heart."
Everette violently slapped her hand away.
The force of the movement made Arvilla stumble backward. She barely caught her balance.
"Don't touch me with your filthy hands," Everette snarled, his voice a blade of pure ice.
Arvilla's face paled, but she forced a pathetic pout. "I just care about you. Deliah wouldn't want you to be alone."
A cruel, dark laugh ripped from Everette's throat. "You don't have the right to say her name."
He took a step toward her. The sheer physical dominance of his frame made Arvilla shrink back. "Stop with these disgusting games. You've spent five years trying to dress like her, act like her. It's pathetic. Just like that desperate lie you tried to feed Deliah five years ago. You were never pregnant."
Arvilla's vanity shattered. Her hands curled into tight fists at her sides, her face flushing with humiliation.
Joshua stepped into the room, placing his body between them. "Mr. Baird requires privacy. Leave, Miss Quinn."
Arvilla glared at Joshua, too terrified to yell at Everette. She gritted her teeth. "I am the heir to the Quinn family. You can't treat me like this." She spun around and stormed out.
The door clicked shut. Everette immediately took off his suit jacket-the one her nail had grazed-and threw it directly into the trash can.
He walked over to the one-way glass window looking down at the Showroom.
Joshua handed him an iPad. "The file on Deliah Buck, sir."
Everette stared at the screen. The file showed a rising star in European architecture. But the timeline before five years ago was completely blank.
His eyes narrowed. The data was too clean. It had been scrubbed by a professional hacker.
"Hire the private investigators," Everette ordered. "Dig up every medical record in Europe under her name."
Suddenly, a sharp, shrill scream echoed from the Showroom below, followed by the loud crash of shattering glass.
Everette looked down through the window.
In the center of the room, Arvilla was screaming at a staff member.
And then, Everette's heart stopped.
Walking out from the backstage doors, heading straight toward Arvilla's tantrum, was Deliah.
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