Vanished 8

Chapter 8 

In the Hayes Corporation boardroom, Ryan slammed a stack of files onto the table. 

“One hundred million in her offshore account? Find out the truth! Did she sell company secrets for this?” 

The assistant trembled as he picked up the papers. “Mr. Hayes, we traced Warren’s moves. He’s been shorting our stock and intercepted our overseas project. The project’s core data leaked just last week.” 

“Who else but Evelyn?” Ryan yanked at his tie, fury in his eyes. “She’s hated me for years. Now she’s working with Warren against me–taking a hundred million for it. Perfect.” 

Just then, Sophia pushed open the door, holding a doctored screenshot. Her voice was pitched with fake nervousness. “Ryan, I often saw Evelyn sneaking into your office, looking through things. I thought you allowed it, so I didn’t say anything.” 

Ryan’s rage deepened. He kicked a chair aside. 

In truth, I was never allowed near his office. Ryan once sneered, “A woman from a slum knows nothing. Don’t bring your poverty into my world.” Even his study was locked unless I got prior permission. 

Now, he was convinced I’d stolen corporate secrets. 

The man I had loved for three years and married for five never truly knew me at all. 

Meanwhile, after leaving the museum, Adrian’s family invited me to dinner. 

Mrs. Shaw pulled me to the table. It was laden with food. 

“Knowing you grew up in Seattle, I learned some local dishes. Here–sweet oatmeal with honey. I heard you love it, so I made it extra soft.” 

I took a spoonful. The warmth slid down my throat, and my eyes burned. It tasted just like my mother’s cooking. But after marrying Ryan, I’d never had it again–he always said sweet food 

was cheap. 

“Try this roast turkey,” Mr. Shaw offered, placing a leg in my bowl. “Three hours slow–cooked. Look how crisp the skin is.” 

Adrian showed me photos on his phone. “I’ve organized Edward’s old sketchbooks. Some unfinished rain alley scenes look just like your recent work. Once the DNA results come back, we can finish them together.” 

Mrs. Shaw smiled warmly, peeling an orange for me. “If you’d like, Evelyn, come eat here often.” 

The sweet juice filled my mouth. 

Then Mr. Shaw returned with an old album. The first page showed Mrs. Shaw holding a swaddled baby beneath a magnolia tree. A mole by her eye was identical to mine. 

“This was the year our child disappeared,” he said softly. “If she were alive, she’d be your age now–sharing meals with us.” 

Mrs. Shaw patted his hand and smiled at me. “Now we have you. Evelyn, don’t be reserved. Treat this as your home. Look at your hands–still so cold. I knitted you a sweater; I’ll bring it tomorrow.” 

Chapter & 

4:04 am PPDD. 

Halfway through, she served me warm almond pudding. “I know you haven’t rested well. This will help you sleep. Drink more.” 

Her gaze was tender, like watching her own child. She even wiped the corner of my mouth gently. as though I truly belonged to her. 

My throat tightened. I couldn’t speak, but inside, I prayed: If the test proves true, to be part of this family would be the greatest gift.