The July heat wave hit the city like a heavy blanket. The scorching asphalt radiated heat, and the air seemed to turn into a thick, stagnant jelly. Veronica Benson sat on a bench in the shade of a sprawling tree, watching the cars pass by.

The third day without a roof over her head was taking its toll. Her bag with her few belongings stood beside her—all that remained of her former life. Veronica absentmindedly tucked back a stray strand of dark hair and glanced at her watch.

Two o’clock in the afternoon. The meeting was set for three, so she still had time to collect her thoughts. She pulled a compact mirror from her bag and critically examined her reflection.

Despite all the trials, her face retained that refined beauty that always drew attention. Large brown eyes framed by thick lashes, a straight nose, and sharply defined lips. Only the shadows under her eyes and a slight pallor betrayed her exhausted state.

Thirty years old—an age when life should just be beginning. But for her, it felt like everything had ended. Just a year ago, Veronica was a respected nurse at a prestigious private clinic, with an apartment and a stable income.

Now, she was homeless with a tarnished reputation. A ridiculous accusation of medical error, fabricated by the clinic’s administration to cover their own mistakes, had cost her career. Then came a chain of misfortunes: her father’s illness, selling the apartment in a desperate attempt to save him, unsuccessful treatment, and finally, his funeral.

The money from the sale drained away like water, leaving her with nothing. Veronica snapped the mirror shut and put it back in her bag. Now wasn’t the time for self-pity.

She needed to think about the future, no matter how uncertain it seemed. She stood up from the bench and headed to the bus stop. The address scribbled on a scrap of paper led to one of the most upscale neighborhoods in the city.

There, where Ethan Sinclair lived—her last hope for salvation. «Excuse me, could you tell me how to get to Maple Street?» she asked an elderly woman at the stop. «You need bus number 17,» the woman replied kindly.

«It’ll take you to the end of the line, and from there, it’s a five-minute walk.» Veronica thanked her and waited. Public transport felt like a luxury; extra money for fares had to be saved, but today was special.

She couldn’t be late for a meeting that could change everything. Ethan Sinclair—a successful industrialist, owner of a large construction company, and an old friend of her father. They had gone to school together, and though life had taken them down different paths, they occasionally met.

Her father had never asked him for help; pride wouldn’t allow it. But before his death, he had written a letter to his school friend, describing his daughter’s situation and asking him not to leave her in need. This letter was what Veronica intended to deliver today…

The bus arrived right on schedule. Veronica took a seat by the window and clutched her bag. The city passed by outside—vibrant, noisy, indifferent to her troubles.

Forty minutes later, she got off at the end of the line and, checking the address, headed toward Maple Street. This neighborhood was starkly different from where she’d spent the last few days. Well-manicured avenues, luxurious mansions hidden behind high fences, expensive cars at the gates.

Here lived people for whom money was no issue. Sinclair’s mansion was exactly as she had imagined. A three-story building in modern style, surrounded by a well-kept garden.

A security guard in a crisp uniform stood at the gates. «I’m here to see Mr. Ethan Sinclair,» Veronica said, trying to sound confident. «My name is Veronica Benson.

I have an appointment at three o’clock.» The guard checked his tablet and nodded. «You’re expected.

Please proceed.» A path paved with light stone led to the main entrance. Veronica walked slowly, trying to calm her nerves.

This was her last chance, and she feared losing it. The door opened before she could knock. A man in a formal suit stood on the threshold.

«Good afternoon. Mr. Sinclair is expecting you in his study. Allow me to escort you.»

Veronica nodded and followed him through the spacious hall, adorned with paintings and sculptures. The luxury of this house underscored the gulf between her current position and the world of her father’s school friend. The assistant stopped before a massive oak door, knocked briefly, and, upon receiving permission, opened it for Veronica.

«Thank you, Victor, you may go,» came a deep male voice from inside the room. Veronica took a deep breath and stepped over the threshold. Ethan Sinclair’s study embodied restrained elegance and power.

A spacious room with high ceilings, walls paneled in dark wood, a massive desk by a panoramic window overlooking the manicured garden. Bookshelves filled with leather-bound volumes added an intellectual charm. The owner of the study rose from behind the desk as Veronica entered.

Ethan Sinclair, a 51-year-old man, looked imposing—tall, broad-shouldered, with piercing gray eyes and a neatly trimmed beard flecked with silver. His sharp dark-blue suit fit him impeccably. «Miss Veronica Benson,» he said, approaching her.

«Pleased to meet you, though I wish it were under better circumstances.» His handshake was firm and confident. Veronica felt the tension gripping her ease slightly.

«Thank you for agreeing to meet me, Mr. Sinclair,» she replied, trying to keep her voice steady. «I brought you a letter from my father.» She pulled a slightly crumpled envelope from her bag and handed it to Sinclair.

He accepted the letter, his gaze lingering on her hands—neat, with long fingers, the hands of a healthcare worker accustomed to precise movements. «Please, have a seat,» he gestured to the chair in front of the desk. «Would you like tea or coffee?» «No, thank you,» Veronica declined, sinking into the comfortable chair.

Sinclair returned to his desk, opened the envelope, and immersed himself in reading. His face remained impassive, but Veronica noticed his lips twitch momentarily, and a shadow of emotion flickered in his eyes, one she couldn’t identify. Finishing, he carefully folded the letter and placed it back in the envelope.

«Nicholas was always proud,» he said after a pause. «Even in school, he never asked for help; he achieved everything on his own. I learned about his illness too late, when nothing could be changed.»

«He didn’t want to burden anyone,» Veronica replied softly. «That was his character.» «I know,» Sinclair nodded.

«We weren’t close friends in recent years, but I always respected him.» He looked at Veronica intently. «Tell me about yourself.

I only know about your situation from what your father wrote.» Veronica took a deep breath and began her story. About her work at the clinic, about the patient who died due to the leadership’s negligence, about how she was made the scapegoat.

About the legal battles that drained her financially and emotionally. About her father’s illness, selling the apartment, desperate attempts to save him, and finally, his death, leaving her without support or a roof over her head. She spoke restrainedly, avoiding complaints and self-justifications, just stating the facts.

Sinclair listened attentively, not interrupting, only occasionally asking clarifying questions. «And where are you living now?» he asked when she finished. Veronica lowered her eyes.

«The last three days, I’ve been sleeping at the train station. Before that, I managed to stay with acquaintances, but you can’t abuse hospitality forever.» Sinclair frowned.

«And relatives?» «Only a cousin in Seattle, but we haven’t spoken in years.» She never got along with my father. Silence hung in the study.

Sinclair thoughtfully tapped his fingers on the desk, as if making a decision. «You worked as a nurse, right?» he finally asked. «Do you have experience caring for seriously ill patients?» «Yes,» Veronica nodded.

«I worked four years in the intensive care unit before moving to the private clinic.» «Then I have a proposal for you.» Sinclair leaned forward.

«My father, Constantine Sinclair, suffered a stroke six months ago. Physically, he’s almost recovered, but he needs constant supervision and care. The caregiver who’s been with him the last few months has to leave for family reasons.

I need someone I can trust.» Veronica felt her heart beat faster. «Really? You’re offering me a job?» she asked cautiously.

«Exactly,» Sinclair nodded. «Work and living here in the house. You’ll have your own room, meals, and decent pay.

My father is a difficult man with a strong character, but if you get along with him, everything will be fine.» Veronica couldn’t believe her luck. Just this morning, she didn’t know where she’d sleep, and now she was being offered a job, housing, and a chance to start over.

«I… I don’t know how to thank you,» she said in a trembling voice. «Thank your father,» Sinclair replied seriously. «Nicholas was an honest man, and I believe his daughter is the same.»

He pressed a button on the desk. «And now, let’s introduce you to your charge.» The assistant entered a minute later.

«Victor, please escort Miss Veronica Benson to Constantine Sinclair,» said Sinclair. «And tell Anna Paulson we have a new employee. Have her prepare the blue guest room.»

«Very well,» Victor nodded and turned to Veronica. «This way, please.» Veronica stood, feeling a slight dizziness from the sudden change in her fate.

«Thank you, Mr. Sinclair,» she said. «I won’t let you down.» «I hope not,» Sinclair replied.

«We’ll talk later to discuss the details of your work.» Following the assistant up the wide staircase to the second floor, Veronica couldn’t shake the feeling of unreality. Could her misfortunes really be over? Or was this just a brief respite before new trials? She didn’t know the answer, but for the first time in a long while, she felt hope.

Constantine Sinclair’s room was in the east wing of the mansion. Spacious, flooded with sunlight, with access to a small terrace. It resembled a luxury five-star hotel suite more than a patient’s room.

Medical equipment was cleverly disguised as interior elements, and the adjustable bed looked like a designer piece of furniture. Victor knocked softly on the door and, receiving permission, opened it for Veronica. «Mr. Constantine Sinclair, your visitor is here,» he announced.

Veronica Benson. The elderly man, sitting in an armchair by the window with a book in hand, looked up. Despite his 75 years and the recent stroke, Constantine Sinclair maintained a regal posture and sharp gaze.

His gray hair was neatly combed back, fine features betrayed breeding and character. He was dressed in an expensive loungewear set, with comfortable leather slippers on his feet. «So, you’re my new jailer?» he said with light irony in his voice.

The right side of his face was slightly less mobile, revealing the stroke’s aftermath. «Come closer, let me get a look at you.» Veronica approached the armchair, maintaining a professional smile.

From years in medicine, she’d learned to connect with all kinds of patients. «Good afternoon, Mr. Constantine Sinclair. Pleased to meet you.»

The old man scanned her appraisingly, lingering on her face. «Hmm, at least you’re pretty,» he noted without a hint of embarrassment. «The previous one looked like a dried herring.

Competent, though, I won’t argue.» «Father!» came Ethan Sinclair’s voice, entering the room behind them. «Behave yourself.»

«Veronica Benson is the daughter of my school friend and a professional nurse. I’m just stating a fact,» the elder Sinclair shrugged. At my age, you can say what you think.

Veronica Benson will live with us and care for you. I hope you’ll get along.» «We’ll see,» the old man snorted.

If she’s as nagging as Dr. Klein, she won’t last long. «I’ll try not to nag,» Veronica replied calmly. «But I’ll monitor your health closely.»

Constantine Sinclair suddenly smiled. «You’ve got spirit. That’s good.

I can’t stand people who just nod along.» Ethan Sinclair nodded in relief. «Well, it seems you’ve found common ground.

Veronica, make yourself at home. Anna Paulson, our housekeeper, will show you your room when you’re done meeting my father. This evening, we’ll discuss your duties in more detail.»

He turned to leave, but then an elderly, plump woman around sixty entered with a tray. «Tea,» she said. «Excellent, thank you, Anna Paulson,» nodded Ethan.

«I’ll join you for a few minutes.» They settled at a small table by the window. The woman poured tea into delicate porcelain cups and left, leaving the three of them.

«Tell me about yourself, Veronica,» suggested the elder Sinclair, sipping his tea. Ethan mentioned you’re the daughter of his school friend. «What did your father do?» «Nicholas Alexander Benson,» Veronica replied.

«He taught mathematics at the university.» «Benson.» Constantine repeated thoughtfully.

«Yes, I remember.» «Tall brunette like that?» «He visited us a few times when the boys were still in school.» «Yes, that’s him,» Veronica confirmed with slight sadness.

«He passed away two months ago.» «I’m sorry for your loss,» the old man said politely, but without much sympathy. «And your mother?» «She died when I was 12.

My father raised me.» «Tough,» Constantine noted briefly. «So, you’re a nurse?» «Was a nurse,» Veronica clarified.

«My last job was at a private clinic, MedCare.» «I know that one,» the old man nodded. «Why did you leave?» Veronica glanced quickly at Ethan Sinclair.

He gave a barely perceptible nod, indicating she could speak openly. «I was fired after an incident with a patient,» she answered honestly. «The clinic’s leadership made a serious mistake, but they blamed me.»

Constantine looked at her attentively. «And you didn’t fight for your reputation?» «I did,» Veronica replied firmly. «But I had no money for good lawyers or connections.

The clinic had both.» The old man nodded satisfied. Honest answer…

«I don’t like when people start making excuses and complaining about unfair fate. Father always said—life is unfair by definition. ‘Get used to it and move on,’» Veronica said with a slight smile.

«Your father was a wise man,» Constantine responded unexpectedly warmly. «Good that Ethan decided to help you. I’m very grateful for that,» Veronica looked at the younger Sinclair.

«And I’ll try to justify your trust.» Ethan finished his tea and stood. «I need to get back to work.»

«Veronica, when you’re done with tea, please go down to the hall. Anna Paulson will show you your room and give you a tour of the house.» «All right, Ethan.»

«And call me just Ethan,» he added with a slight smile. We don’t stand on such formality here among… He hesitated, among our own.

When the door closed behind him, Constantine snorted. «Among our own, huh?» «Interesting.» Veronica chose not to comment on that remark.

«Please tell me about your daily routine and doctor’s prescriptions,» she changed the subject. «I need to know to organize your care properly.» «Here we go,» the old man sighed, but without real irritation.

«Well, listen. I wake up at seven in the morning, without an alarm—habit. Breakfast at eight.

Then medications, a whole set of pills prescribed by that quack Klein. At ten, light exercise, then an hour of reading. Lunch at one, after that mandatory rest.

Dinner at seven in the evening, and by ten I’m usually in bed.» Veronica listened attentively, mentally planning her work. Despite the grumbling tone, it was clear Constantine was organized and disciplined, so there shouldn’t be issues with the routine.

After tea, she bid farewell to the elder Sinclair and went down to the hall, where Anna Paulson was waiting, a woman in her sixties with a kind face. «Come along, dear, I’ll show you your room,» said the housekeeper, leading Veronica down the corridor to the west wing of the house. Ethan Sinclair instructed to prepare the blue guest room for you.

It’s one of the best rooms, with a view of the garden. The blue guest room turned out to be a spacious bedroom with an adjoining bathroom. Furnished tastefully but without excess luxury, it looked cozy and comfortable.

The large window indeed overlooked the garden, and the bed with fresh linens beckoned after three sleepless nights. «Settle in, rest,» said Anna Paulson. Dinner at seven in the evening, dining room on the first floor.

Ethan Sinclair asked me to tell you he’ll see you in his study after dinner. «Thank you,» Veronica said sincerely. The housekeeper softened.

Ethan Sinclair is a good man, though strict. And Constantine Sinclair? Well, he’s a challenging patient, but if you find the right approach, everything will be fine. When Anna Paulson left, Veronica collapsed onto the bed in exhaustion.

The fatigue of the last days hit with renewed force. She kicked off her shoes, stretched out on the coverlet, and closed her eyes. Just for a minute, she told herself—just a little rest.

Veronica woke to a gentle knock on the door. The room was already dim with twilight. She sat up abruptly, not immediately realizing where she was.

«Yes, come in,» she called, hastily smoothing her disheveled hair. A young maid appeared in the doorway. «Sorry to wake you,» the girl said.

Anna Paulson asked me to remind you that dinner is in 20 minutes. «Thank you.» Veronica hesitated, not knowing the maid’s name.

Mary, the girl introduced herself with a slight smile. The bathroom is through that door, towels and all toiletries are there. «If you need anything, press the call button,» she pointed to the panel by the bed.

When the door closed behind Mary, Veronica hurried to the bathroom. A hot shower washed away the fatigue and tension of recent days. Changing into a fresh blouse—luckily not too wrinkled—she went down to the dining room, following the housekeeper’s directions.

At the huge dining table, set for 20 people, sat only three: Ethan Sinclair, his father, and an elderly woman with aristocratic features whom Veronica hadn’t been introduced to. «Ah, here’s our new employee,» greeted the elder Sinclair. «Did you sleep well?» Veronica blushed.

«I’m sorry, I didn’t plan to fall asleep.» «Simply—» «No apologies,» Ethan interrupted her.

«You needed rest.» «Have a seat. Allow me to introduce my aunt, Elizabeth Sinclair.»

The elderly lady nodded graciously. «Pleased to meet you, dear. Ethan told me about your situation.

Very sad. But you’ll be safe here.» Dinner passed in relaxed conversation.

Elizabeth Sinclair, Constantine’s sister, turned out to be a former opera singer and an engaging conversationalist. She spoke of her tours in Europe, meetings with famous people, amusing incidents from theater life. For the first time in a long while, Veronica felt calm and comfortable.

After dinner, as agreed, she went to Ethan Sinclair’s study to discuss her duties. Sinclair was waiting, reviewing some documents at his massive desk. «Have a seat, Veronica,» he offered, setting aside the papers.

«How do you like my father? Will it be hard to work with him?» «I think we’ll find common ground,» she replied confidently. Constantine Sinclair has a strong character, but that’s even good for recovery after a stroke. The key is the right approach.

Sinclair nodded satisfied. «That’s why I offered you this job. You’re not only a qualified nurse but also seem to have the necessary human qualities.»

He opened a desk drawer and pulled out a folder. Here are all my father’s medical documents, test results, doctor’s orders. «Please review them.»

Veronica took the folder and skimmed the contents. «Tomorrow at 10 a.m., Dr. Klein will come for a routine checkup,» Sinclair continued. He’s my father’s attending physician, competent though a bit pedantic.

Father doesn’t like him, but it’s more a matter of personalities. «I’ll be present at the checkup if you don’t mind,» Veronica said. «I need to speak with the doctor personally to better understand the patient’s condition.»

«Of course,» Ethan nodded. Now about practical matters. Your salary will be…

He named a sum that made Veronica’s eyes nearly widen. It was three times what she earned at the clinic. Payments weekly, cash or to your card, whichever you prefer.

Living and meals, naturally, at my expense. Day off Monday; on that day, Elizabeth will be with father. If any problems or questions arise, come directly to me.

Thank you, Veronica thanked sincerely. This is a very generous offer. I value professionalism, Sinclair replied simply.

And besides, in memory of Nicholas, I must take care of you. He paused, as if deciding whether to continue, but added, do you have questions. Veronica thought.

There was something that interested her, but she wasn’t sure if it was appropriate to ask. If it’s not a secret. Do you live alone? I mean, do you have a family.

Sinclair’s face froze for a moment, pain flickering in his eyes. My wife Marina died five years ago. Inoperable aggressive cancer.

And my daughter? He faltered, my daughter died in a car accident a year and a half ago. I’m sorry, Veronica said quietly. I didn’t mean to reopen wounds.

It’s okay, Sinclair ran a hand over his face, as if wiping away emotions. It’s part of life that must be accepted. He stood, signaling the conversation was over.

Rest, Veronica. Tomorrow is an important day for you. Returning to her room, Veronica couldn’t sleep for a long time, despite the fatigue.

Too many events in one day, her life had changed too abruptly. The comfortable bed, clean sheets, roof over her head—all seemed almost unreal after days on the street. And yet something bothered her.

The mention of Sinclair’s deceased daughter tugged at some thought, some vague memory, but she couldn’t grasp it. Maybe in the morning, with a fresh head. With that thought, Veronica finally sank into deep, dreamless sleep.

The morning began with bright sunlight flooding the room through undrawn curtains. Veronica woke refreshed and full of energy. The clock showed six-thirty—perfect time to prepare for the workday.

After a quick shower, she put on a formal dress she’d saved for special occasions and applied light makeup. Hair gathered in a neat bun—professional nurse habit. In the dining room, she found only Constantine Sinclair, already breakfasting alone.

«Good morning!» she greeted the elderly man. «How do you feel today?» «How can an old man with a half-paralyzed body feel?» he grumbled, but without real anger. «Sit down, eat.»

«Anna Paulson bakes excellent croissants.» Veronica sat at the table, and the maid promptly served her a cup of aromatic coffee and a basket of pastries. «Ethan always eats early and heads to the office,» Constantine explained, noticing her looking around.

And Elizabeth likes to sleep in. «So mornings are usually just me.» «Now not alone,» Veronica smiled.

«I get up early.» «That’s good,» the old man nodded. «I can’t stand staff lounging in bed till noon.

Back in my day…» And he launched into reminiscences of his youth, the strict discipline at enterprises then, how he started his business back in the old days. Veronica listened with genuine interest; Constantine turned out to be an excellent storyteller.

After breakfast, she helped him with morning hygiene and medications. Then they went to the garden for a light morning walk. Constantine moved with a cane but quite confidently for his condition.

«You’re making great progress in recovery,» Veronica noted, observing his movements. «Many stroke patients don’t get out of bed for months.» «I’ve got a strong constitution,» the old man replied proudly.

«Lifelong sports, no drinking, no smoking.» «And besides, I’m not one to give up.» At 10 o’clock, as promised, Dr. Klein arrived, a lanky man about 50 with pedantic manners.

He examined Constantine, measured blood pressure, checked reflexes. «Progress is evident,» he reported, finishing the exam. «But you still need to avoid overexertion, Mr. Constantine Sinclair, and follow the diet.»

«Yes, yes, no salt, no fat, no sweets.» «No everything that makes life enjoyable,» the old man grumbled. «Tell me when I can return to work instead.» «It’s too early to talk about that,» Klein replied cautiously…

«Possibly in a month or two if the recovery pace holds.» He turned to Veronica. «You’re the new caregiver, I assume.»

Veronica Benson, nurse, she introduced herself, shaking his hand. «Very good,» the doctor nodded. Ethan Sinclair mentioned he’d found a qualified specialist.

«Here’s the list of medications and procedures.» He handed her a sheet of paper. «Pay special attention to limb massage and breathing exercises.

And monitor blood pressure; it fluctuates in our patient.» After the doctor’s departure, Constantine noticeably relaxed. «Nag,» he commented.

«But seems to know his stuff.» He’s right about the massage and exercises, Veronica noted. «If you allow, I’d like to add a few exercises for fine motor skills to your routine.

It’ll help restore coordination faster.» To her surprise, the old man didn’t object. «Do what you think necessary, as long as it helps.

I want to get back to work before Ethan fully takes the reins.» The day flew by in caring for the patient. Veronica was in her element; finally, she could do what she loved—helping people.

By evening, Constantine looked content and even thanked her for the massage, which, he said, for the first time in a long while didn’t feel like torture. After dinner, when the elder Sinclair retired for his evening rest, Veronica decided to explore the house. Ethan warned he’d be late at the office, and Elizabeth Sinclair had gone to the theater with friends, so she was left to herself.

The mansion impressed with its size and luxury. Besides living areas, there was a library, a music room with a piano, even a small home theater. Veronica wandered the corridors, examining the paintings on the walls—mostly landscapes and portraits, apparently of the Sinclair family ancestors.

In the west wing, she found a door leading to a spacious study, different from Ethan’s work study. Judging by the decor, this was Constantine’s room, his personal space for work and relaxation. Veronica didn’t intend to intrude, but the door was ajar, and her attention was caught by a large photograph in a silver frame on the desk.

She stepped closer to look. From the photo looked a young woman, a beautiful blonde with bright blue eyes and a charming smile. Something in her face seemed familiar to Veronica, but she couldn’t remember where she might have seen this girl.

«That’s Katie, my granddaughter,» came Constantine’s voice from behind her. Veronica started in surprise and turned. «Sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude.»

The door was open, and I… It’s fine, the elderly man entered the study, leaning on his cane. «I forgot to lock it myself.» «Sit if you like.»

He gestured to an armchair by the fireplace and sank into the opposite one. Catherine was my joy and pride, he continued, gazing at the photo. Smart, beautiful, with character.

All like her mother. She was meant to be the heir to our business. His voice trembled.

But fate decided otherwise. «I’m very sorry,» Veronica said quietly. The old man paused, then asked.

«You don’t have children of your own?» Veronica shook her head. It didn’t work out. «It’s hard to outlive your own child,» Constantine said thoughtfully.

«Ethan holds up, but I can see how much it hurts him. He raised Katie alone after his wife’s death. They were very close.»

Veronica looked at the photo again. The girl’s face still seemed familiar, but memory stubbornly refused to provide the information. How did she die? she asked cautiously, hoping not to stir too painful memories.

Constantine sighed. Car accident. She was returning from Austria, where she’d vacationed with friends.

On a mountain road, her car plunged into a ravine and caught fire. He closed his eyes, as if warding off horrific images. The body was badly burned; identification was only by dental records and personal items.

Suddenly, something clicked in Veronica’s memory. Catherine Sinclair. A year ago, at the psychiatric clinic where Veronica worked after being fired from MedCare, there was a patient who looked remarkably like the girl in the photo.

Only much thinner, with a dull gaze and hair almost white from stress. Her name was… What was her name? The name escaped her, but the resemblance was striking.

What’s wrong? Constantine asked worriedly, noticing her changed expression. Are you unwell? No, no, all fine, Veronica hurried to assure him. Just…

It’s such a tragedy. Yes, the old man nodded. The worst thing that can happen to parents.

He rose with effort. I’ll go to my room, I think. The day was tiring.

Veronica helped him reach his bedroom, ensured he took his evening medication, and wished him good night. But she couldn’t sleep for a long time, tormented by the strange feeling that the solution was close; she just needed to recall the right name. Elizabeth? No, not that.

Eva? Not that either. Evelyn. That’s what the patient at the psychiatric clinic was called.

But was she really Catherine Sinclair, or just an amazing resemblance? And if so, what really happened? Who died in that car accident? Questions swarmed in Veronica’s head, denying her peace. She knew she had to act carefully. If she was wrong and it was just coincidence, her suspicions might seem absurd and even insulting to the family that had helped her so much.

But if she was right, then what? With these thoughts, Veronica finally fell asleep, deciding that morning is wiser than evening. The next morning, Veronica woke with a firm resolve to find the truth. After breakfast and morning procedures with Constantine, she went to the library, where, according to Anna Paulson, there was a computer with internet access.

You can use it anytime you’re free, the housekeeper explained. The Wi-Fi password is under the keyboard. Leaving the elder Sinclair to rest after massage, Veronica settled at the computer and began searching for information about the accident in which Catherine supposedly died.

In news archives, she found several articles describing the tragedy. Daughter of prominent industrialist dies in crash. Tragedy on mountain road claims life of construction empire heiress.

Details of the incident mostly matched what Constantine had told. Catherine was returning from Austria in her car. On a mountain serpentine, presumably due to brake failure, the car veered off the cliff and burst into flames.

The body was severely burned, complicating identification. Veronica frowned. If that wasn’t really Catherine, who died in that car? And most importantly, where is the real Catherine now, if she’s alive? She recalled the patient from the psychiatric clinic.

Evelyn arrived about a month after Catherine Sinclair’s supposed death. Diagnosis—post-traumatic stress disorder and partial amnesia. She barely spoke, just stared out the window for hours.

And her documents were odd, hastily prepared. Veronica tried to recall more details. Who brought Evelyn to the clinic? Some man, claiming to be her uncle.

Tall, with dark hair and cold eyes. He paid for six months of treatment in advance and asked to keep her away from other patients and especially visitors. Suddenly, another important detail surfaced in memory.

Evelyn had a scar on her right wrist, a thin white line like from a cut. And Veronica noticed the same scar on Catherine’s photo when she examined it more closely last evening. This couldn’t be coincidence…

Too many details pointed to Evelyn and Catherine being the same person. But how to prove it? And who to trust with her suspicions? Veronica decided to start small—check if Evelyn was still at that clinic. She dialed the reception number she still remembered.

Clear Meadows Psychiatric Clinic, «Good afternoon,» answered a friendly female voice. «Good afternoon,» Veronica tried to sound calm and confident. «My name is Veronica Benson.

I worked with you as a nurse a year ago. I need information about a patient I worked with—Evelyn.» She faltered, not recalling the last name.

«I’m sorry, but we can’t provide patient information over the phone,» the employee replied. «It’s confidential.» «Of course, I understand,» Veronica agreed quickly.

«But I’d like to visit her if she’s still there.» She was very withdrawn, and I was one of the few she connected with. There was a pause on the other end.

«Please hold, I’ll check the database.» Veronica waited tensely. «If Evelyn is still there, she’ll need to find a way to meet her and uncover the truth.»

Evelyn Porter. Finally, the employee said. «Such a patient was discharged 8 months ago.

Her guardian picked her up, the same one who brought her.» «I see, thank you.» Veronica tried to hide her disappointment.

«And could you tell me where she was transferred?» «Unfortunately, we don’t have that information.» The guardian left no new contacts. Hanging up, Veronica pondered.

«If Evelyn is really Catherine, where is she now? And who is this mysterious guardian?» Suddenly, the library door opened, and Ethan Sinclair entered. Veronica hastily closed all browser tabs. «Veronica?» «Didn’t expect to see you here,» he said with mild surprise.

«Father resting?» «Yes, after massage,» she nodded, trying to look natural. «I decided to use free time to check email.» «Good,» he approved.

«Treat this house as your own.» He approached one of the bookshelves. «I came for documents I forgot this morning.»

«Ah, here they are.» He pulled a folder from the shelf and turned to leave but stopped.

«By the way, I wanted to ask how you’re doing with father?» «No issues?» «All excellent,» she assured him. Constantine is an interesting conversationalist and a disciplined patient. Pleasant to work with.

Glad to hear, Sinclair smiled. You know, yesterday he spoke well of someone from staff for the first time in ages. Said you’re not like a typical caregiver.

From him, that’s high praise. Veronica smiled back. «Thanks for the info.

I’ll try to maintain that reputation.» When Ethan left, she pondered again. Should she tell him about her suspicions? If she’s wrong, it might seem like trying to reopen old wounds.

And if right? Well, first, gather more information. Veronica returned to the computer and opened the search engine. This time, she decided to look for information on Sinclair’s business partners.

Soon she found several articles about Sinclair Construction and its leadership. Ethan was the CEO, and the board included several people, including two deputies—Alex Grayson and Anthony Markham.

Veronica startled seeing Grayson’s photo. It was the same man who brought Evelyn to the clinic. Tall man with dark hair and a cold, calculating gaze.

Now she was sure her suspicions weren’t groundless. She continued studying info on Grayson and Markham. Both were long-time partners of Sinclair; together they founded the company in the 90s.

Grayson handled finances, Markham—legal matters. At first glance, all seemed normal for big business. But then Veronica stumbled on a curious article in a business journal, dated about two years earlier.

It mentioned a conflict among shareholders of Sinclair Construction and possible company split. It noted Grayson and Markham wanted to expand business in a direction Ethan Sinclair considered risky. Could it be about money? Veronica thought.

If Catherine really witnessed some crime by her father’s partners and they staged her death to hide the truth, what exactly could she have learned? Her thoughts were interrupted by a mobile phone ring. It was Anna Paulson. Veronica Benson, Constantine is awake and asking for you.

«Coming right away,» Veronica replied and hurried to her charge. The elder Sinclair met her with a displeased look. «Where have you been?» «I’ve been calling several times.»

«Sorry, Mr. Constantine, I was in the library and didn’t hear the call,» Veronica apologized. «Is something wrong?» «Yes, something is,» the old man grumbled. «I want to go to the garden, and Anna Paulson claims I can’t go down stairs alone.»

«And she’s right,» Veronica said firmly. «After a stroke, you need to be especially careful on stairs. Let me help you.»

The day was beautiful, warm but not hot, with a light breeze carrying the scent of blooming roses. They strolled along neat paths, and the elder Sinclair seemed to enjoy every moment of the walk. «You know, when you lie immobile in bed for weeks, you start appreciating simple things,» he confessed unexpectedly.

Sunlight, fresh air, the ability to move independently. Naturally, Veronica nodded. That’s why it’s important not to despair and keep fighting to return to normal life.

Wise words for such a young woman, the old man snorted. «You remind me of my late wife.» She was an optimist too.

Said there’s no problem that can’t be solved with enough persistence and a good cup of tea. They reached a gazebo entwined with grapevines and sat to rest. «Tell me about your granddaughter,» Veronica asked, seizing the moment.

«What was she like?» Constantine’s face softened. «Katie was… special.

Strong like her father, but with a sensitive soul like her mother. Loved poetry, music, but understood business as well as professionals. Ethan was grooming her to take over.

He sighed. The last year before the incident, she was actively involved in company affairs. She had a special talent for seeing what others missed.

«In what sense?» Veronica asked cautiously. She noticed small details, discrepancies in reports, oddities in contracts, the old man explained. «That didn’t always please our partners.

Especially Grayson—he was used to his financial schemes not being questioned.» Veronica felt her heart race faster. They were getting closer to the truth.

«They didn’t get along?» «Not that they didn’t get along,» Constantine said thoughtfully. Rather, they had different visions for the company’s future. Alex was always inclined to risky operations, while Katie preferred stable, steady growth.

He paused. A month before her death, there was a serious conflict between them over some contract. Katie suspected something and wanted an independent audit.

Grayson was categorically against it. And how did the conflict end? Constantine insisted on the check. But nothing major was found, just minor violations.

Alex was very offended then, even threatened to leave the business. Later, of course, he cooled down. The old man sighed.

And a month later, this tragedy happened. «You know, sometimes I think if we hadn’t insisted on the audit, maybe Katie would be alive.» Veronica decided to risk.

«Do you think her death was caused by that conflict?» Constantine turned sharply to her. «What do you mean?» «Nothing specific,» Veronica hurried to assure. «Just, from your words, she had a conflict with an important person in the company, and soon after, the tragedy occurred.

Are you implying Grayson could be involved?» The old man frowned. «No, that’s impossible. Alex isn’t an angel, of course, but the investigation said the accident was due to brake failure.

A tragic accident.» Veronica decided not to press. «Not time to reveal her suspicions yet, especially to an ill man.

First, find more convincing evidence.» «You’re right, sorry for the inappropriate assumptions,» she said. «I just sympathize with your loss and try to understand what happened.»

Constantine softened. I understand. The death of young people always seems unfair, and we seek some explanation to make sense of senseless tragedy.

But sometimes accidents are just accidents. They returned to the house in silence, each lost in thoughts. Veronica helped the elderly man up the stairs and settle in his room for afternoon rest.

As she was about to leave, Constantine suddenly said «You know what’s strangest? After Katie’s death, Grayson and Markham seemed reborn. They started pushing their ideas even more actively, almost forcing them on Ethan. And before, they respected him.

Maybe they’re just trying to distract him from grief?» Veronica suggested. «Maybe,» the old man replied uncertainly, «but it seems to me they’re… rushing.

As if they fear if they don’t act now, it’ll be too late later.» This remark confirmed Veronica’s suspicions. If Catherine is alive and isolated somewhere, the partners might indeed fear she’ll return someday and expose them.

So she has very little time to find the girl and reveal the truth. Leaving Constantine to rest, Veronica returned to her room and began devising a plan. She needed to learn more about Grayson and Markham, what financial schemes they might be running, and most importantly, where Catherine might be now.

Suddenly, it dawned on her. If Catherine was really at that psychiatric clinic, there should be records of her stay, perhaps medical images or DNA samples. That could be irrefutable proof that Evelyn and Catherine are the same person.

But how to access those records? Veronica no longer worked at the clinic, and they wouldn’t give confidential patient info just like that. She needed someone who could help. And then she remembered Marina, her former colleague and friend, who still worked at Clear Meadows.

Marina always liked Veronica and might help, especially if explained the seriousness. Veronica dialed her friend’s number, but no answer. She left a message asking to call back on important business.

Now all that remained was to wait and hope Marina would respond and not refuse help. In the evening after dinner, when Constantine had gone to sleep, and Ethan hadn’t returned from the office yet, Veronica decided to walk in the garden to clear her head and organize her thoughts. The night air was filled with flower scents and freshness from nearby woods.

Veronica slowly walked along illuminated garden paths, enjoying the silence and peace of the nearby forest. This place could truly become her home if not for the anxious thoughts denying her rest. Suddenly, she heard the sound of an approaching car.

A few minutes later, Ethan Sinclair entered the garden. Seeing Veronica, he headed toward her. «Can’t sleep?» he asked with a slight smile.

«Decided to take a short walk before bed,» she replied. «You have a beautiful garden.» «That’s our gardener Paul Stephens’ credit.

A true fan of his work.» Sinclair paused, then added. «Father says you asked him a lot about Katie today.»

Veronica tensed. Had the old man suspected something and complained to his son? «Yes, we talked about her,» she confirmed cautiously. Constantine started the conversation himself, showing me her photo.

«I didn’t want to stir painful memories.» «It’s fine,» he reassured her. It’s good for father to talk about Katie.

For a while after her death, he closed off, refused even to say her name. «I’m glad now he can remember her without excruciating pain.» They walked slowly along the path, side by side.

«She was a wonderful girl,» Ethan continued. «Talented, smart, with a big heart.» After my wife’s death, Katie became the center of my universe.

I lived for her, worked for her.» He faltered. «Sorry, didn’t mean to burden you with my experiences.»

«It’s nothing,» Veronica replied softly. «Sometimes you need to talk it out.» Sinclair nodded gratefully.

«You know what’s hardest? Not just the loss, but the guilt. I keep thinking I could have changed something, prevented the tragedy. If I’d insisted she fly instead of drive.

If I’d gone to meet her in Austria myself. But you couldn’t know what would happen,» Veronica noted. «No,» he agreed.

«Yet those thoughts haunt me. Especially since Katie was worried about something before leaving. Said she’d found some strange documents, wanted to discuss them with me after returning.

But she never got the chance.» Veronica held her breath. There it was.

Catherine had indeed discovered something important, some crime by her father’s partners. What documents? she asked as casually as possible. «I don’t know exactly,» he shook his head.

She didn’t go into details over the phone, just said it concerned new company projects and that I need to be careful with partners. He sighed. «After her death, I searched for those documents in her office, on her computer, but found nothing.

Perhaps they were with her during the accident and burned with the car.» Or, Veronica thought, the partners made sure those documents disappeared. And isolated Catherine herself so she couldn’t tell about her discovery…

«And your partners? How did they react to her death?» she asked. Like everyone—with shock and sympathy, Sinclair replied. Alex Grayson even organized a charity fund in Catherine’s name.

And Anthony Markham helped with legal formalities after her death. They were both very upset by her passing. But not too upset? Weren’t they trying to ease their own guilt or divert suspicion? Veronica kept these questions to herself.

«Sorry for the curiosity,» she said instead. «I just see how hard it is for you and your father, and I’d like to better understand the situation so as not to say anything extra. I appreciate your concern,» Sinclair replied sincerely.

«You know, with your arrival in the house, it’s like it became brighter. Father grumbles less, and I…» He hesitated, «For the first time in a long time, I felt life could go on.» He looked at her with such warmth that Veronica felt awkward.

«I should go,» she said gently. «Constantine doesn’t like his breakfast delayed.» Of course, Sinclair nodded. «Good night, Veronica.»

«Good night, Ethan.» «Just Ethan, remember?» he smiled. «Good night, Ethan,» she repeated and headed to the house, feeling his gaze on her.

In her room, Veronica found a missed call from Marina and a short message. «Call back when you can, even late.» She immediately dialed the number.

«Marina? Sorry for the late call.» «No problem, I’m not sleeping anyway,» she responded. «You wanted to talk about something important?» «Yes,» Veronica took a deep breath.

«Do you remember the patient named Evelyn Porter? She arrived about a year ago with PTSD and partial amnesia.» «I remember,» Marina said after a pause. «The blonde, right?» So quiet.

«Exactly. I really need information about her. Anything from her medical records, maybe test results or X-rays.»

«Why do you need this?» Marina’s voice held suspicion. «You know it’s confidential.» Veronica hesitated.

«Should she tell the truth?» But without Marina’s support, she couldn’t manage. «I think this girl might not be who she claims to be,» she finally said. «Or rather, who they claim she is.

She might be a victim of a crime.» «What?» Marina gasped. «Are you serious?» «Absolutely.

And I need proof to help her.» Marina pondered. «I can’t just give you medical records.

It’s illegal.» «But…» She paused. «Maybe I could look myself and tell you in general terms.

Nothing violating confidentiality, just facts.» That would be huge help, Veronica exhaled in relief. «When can you do it?» «Tomorrow I’m on night shift.

I’ll try to check the archive. Call as soon as I learn something. Thanks, Marina.

You have no idea how important this is.» Hanging up, Veronica felt a surge of hope. If she can find medical evidence that Evelyn and Catherine are the same, she can move forward.

But the main question remained—where is Catherine now? And how to find her? The morning started with an unpleasant surprise. At breakfast, Ethan Sinclair announced that his business partners were coming to the house today. Alex Grayson and Anthony Markham, he explained, noticing Veronica’s questioning look.

«We have important negotiations, then a small business dinner. I hope father can attend if he feels well.» Of course, Constantine nodded.

«I’m not hiding in my room like a feeble old man.» Just no overexertion, Veronica warned. «And don’t forget to take medications on time.»

Her thoughts raced feverishly. Grayson and Markham here, in this house. If they see her, will they recognize her? Probably not; at the clinic, she wore uniform, hair under a cap, and they likely didn’t notice a regular nurse.

Yet the risk existed. «What time will they arrive?» she asked as casually as possible. «Around two p.m.,» Sinclair replied.

«Why?» «Just planning the day,» Veronica explained. «Constantine and I need to do procedures before they arrive.» When Ethan left, and Constantine went to the library, Veronica decided to use the opportunity and inspect Catherine’s office.

Anna Paulson mentioned the girl’s room remained untouched after her death; Ethan wouldn’t let anything be changed, as if hoping his daughter would return one day. Catherine’s office was on the second floor, next to Ethan’s room. The door wasn’t locked, and Veronica cautiously entered.

The room looked as if the owner had just stepped out and would return any moment. Papers neatly stacked on the desk, a coffee cup, calendar on the wall. Photos on shelves captured happy moments: graduation, beach vacation with father, trips to different countries.

Veronica began carefully examining the room, trying not to touch anything. She wasn’t sure what she was looking for—perhaps a clue about those documents Catherine planned to show her father, or where she might have been taken after the clinic. Checking the desk and cabinets, Veronica found nothing noteworthy.

It seemed all important papers had indeed vanished with Catherine. There was no computer in the office—likely Ethan took it for examination after his daughter’s disappearance. About to leave, Veronica noticed a small box on the bookshelf.

An ordinary wooden box with carved pattern, not drawing much attention. Following intuition, she opened it. Inside was a diary in a worn leather cover.

Veronica took it with trepidation. Could this be what she sought? Catherine’s entries could shed light on events before her disappearance. She quickly flipped through the diary.

The last entry was dated a week before Catherine’s supposed death. June 15. Found strange documents in A.G.’s office. Looks like he and A.M. are preparing some major scam.

Need to show everything to dad, but first gather more info. They mustn’t suspect I know something. A.G. obviously Alex Grayson, and A.M. Anthony Markham.

So Veronica’s suspicions were confirmed. Catherine indeed suspected her father’s partners of some machinations. Veronica photographed this page on her phone, then returned the diary to the box and put it back.

She needed to hurry—anyone could enter and find her here at any moment. Leaving the office, she ran into Anna Paulson. Veronica Benson, surprised the housekeeper, what are you doing in Catherine Sinclair’s room.

I… Veronica frantically sought a plausible explanation. I accidentally came in here. Was looking for the library to get a book for Constantine.

Anna Paulson frowned. The library is on the first floor, you know that. And this part of the house…

No one comes here since the misfortune. Sorry, Veronica said sincerely. I didn’t mean to violate forbidden territory.

The housekeeper’s face softened. No harm done. Just Ethan Sinclair reacts very painfully when someone enters Katie’s room.

Better he doesn’t know. Of course, Veronica nodded. I won’t tell anyone.

She hurried downstairs to Constantine, feeling excitement from the find and anxiety about the upcoming visit by Grayson and Markham. Now, with evidence the partners were hiding something, meeting them could be dangerous. Fortunately, morning procedures and lunch passed without incident.

Constantine was in good spirits and even joked that for the first time in ages he felt almost human. Veronica diligently performed her duties, but her thoughts were elsewhere. At exactly two o’clock, an expensive black car appeared at the mansion gates.

Veronica watched from the second-floor window as two men exited: tall, dark-haired Grayson and stocky Markham. They confidently headed to the house, where Ethan met them. Veronica decided it was better not to cross their path unnecessarily.

She told Constantine her head ached and asked permission to rest in her room. The old man understood and let her go, saying he’d manage, and if needed, call. In her room, Veronica paced restlessly.

In an hour, Marina should call back with news from the clinic, and meanwhile, she needed to pass the time. She pulled out her phone and again carefully studied the photo of the diary page. The entry was short but informative.

Catherine clearly suspected the partners of some scam. But what exactly? And why didn’t she tell Ethan right away? The phone rang, making Veronica jump. It was Marina.

Found something interesting, she started without preamble. You were right, something’s off with this Evelyn. There are oddities in her medical chart.

What kind? Veronica asked tensely. First, the tests. They show she has a rare blood type—AB negative.

Occurs in less than 2 percent of the population. Second, X-rays show traces of an old fracture on the right wrist, very characteristic—called a Colles’ fracture. And what does that mean? Veronica asked impatiently, though guessing.

I checked the database, Marina continued. Catherine Sinclair, daughter of the well-known industrialist who died in a car crash a year ago, had exactly the same blood type and exactly the same wrist fracture. It’s noted in her medical chart in our base; she had a checkup at our clinic a few months before her supposed death.

Veronica’s heart raced faster. There it is, proof. Are you sure it can’t be coincidence? Such coincidence is extremely unlikely, Marina replied firmly.

Blood type, identical fracture—the odds are near zero. Veronica, what’s going on? Who is this girl really? I think she’s Catherine Sinclair, Veronica said quietly. She’s alive, but someone went to great lengths to make everyone think she’s dead.

But why? And who died in that car? I don’t know, Veronica admitted honestly. But I’m going to find out. Thank you so much for the help, Marina.

Be careful, her friend warned. If you’re right and someone staged Catherine’s death, that person is dangerous. Very dangerous.

After talking with Marina, Veronica felt tension rising. Now she had proof Evelyn and Catherine were the same. But where is the girl now? And how to tell Ethan without endangering him or herself? Suddenly, there was a knock on her room door.

Veronica jumped. Yes? Come in. Anna Paulson stood on the threshold.

Veronica Benson, you’re asked to come down for dinner. The guests are gathered. But I… Veronica wanted to cite headache, but the housekeeper interrupted.

Ethan Sinclair insists. He wants to introduce you to his partners. Refusing was impossible.

Veronica quickly freshened up and went down to the dining room, where the dinner participants were assembled. Ethan, Constantine, Grayson, Markham, and another man she didn’t know. Ah, here’s our fairy rescuer, Sinclair smiled, seeing Veronica.

Gentlemen, meet. Veronica Benson, nurse who’s literally brought my father back to life. Veronica greeted politely, trying not to show her agitation.

She scrutinized Grayson’s face especially, would he recognize her. But Alex Grayson only nodded absently to the greeting, clearly not recognizing the nurse from the psychiatric clinic. His cold gray eyes slid over her without much interest.

Very nice, he said formally. Ethan spoke of you. Seems you really work miracles.

I just do my job, Veronica replied modestly, taking the offered seat at the table. Dinner passed in a tense atmosphere for her. The men discussed some new project—construction of a large logistics center on the city’s outskirts.

Veronica ate silently, covertly observing Grayson and Markham. Alex Grayson, tall, fit man about 45, spoke little but weightily. His manner revealed a man used to power and control.

Anthony Markham, conversely, was more talkative and emotional. He gestured actively, convincing Sinclair of the project’s advantages. Ethan, you must understand, Markham insisted, this is a unique opportunity.

If we miss it now, competitors won’t sleep. I understand everything, Anton, Sinclair replied calmly. But the project requires huge investments, and the current economic situation isn’t the most favorable for such risks.

Risks are minimal, Grayson interjected. I personally checked all calculations. Payback in 3 years, max 4. Katie would approve, Markham added unexpectedly, and Veronica noticed Sinclair flinch at the mention of his daughter’s name.

She always advocated for business expansion. No need, Ethan replied coldly. Katie was cautious in financial matters, and you know that.

Awkward silence hung over the table. The third guest, introduced as Victor Sommers, investment consultant, cleared his throat and changed the topic. By the way, about finances.

Heard about the new tax bill? It could significantly affect the construction business. Conversation shifted to a more neutral topic, but Veronica noticed Grayson casting tense glances at Sinclair. It was obvious getting approval for this project was very important to him.

After dinner, everyone moved to the living room for coffee. Constantine, tired from the long evening, excused himself and went to rest, asking Veronica to help him upstairs. «I’ll be back soon,» she whispered to Ethan, leading the old man away.

Escorting Constantine to his room and ensuring he took his evening medication, Veronica didn’t hurry back to the living room. Instead, she quietly descended the stairs and stopped at the slightly ajar door, listening to the conversation. «Final deadline—end of the month,» Grayson was saying.

«If we don’t sign the contract now, the land will go to other buyers.» «I can’t make such a decision in haste,» Sinclair replied. «I need time to think, consult lawyers.»

«What lawyers?» Markham exclaimed irritably. «You have me. I checked all documents, everything’s clean.» «Sorry, Anthony, but after that incident with the Austrian partners, I prefer to be cautious.»..

Veronica tensed. «What incident with Austrian partners? Could it be related to what Catherine discovered?» «That was a one-off,» Grayson interjected. «Since then, we’ve tripled checks.

It won’t happen again.» «Nevertheless,» Sinclair said firmly, «I want to check everything thoroughly. Give me a week.»

«A week?» Grayson’s voice held barely concealed irritation. «Ethan, we don’t have a week. Decision needs to be now.»

«Then my answer is no,» Sinclair replied calmly. «I won’t invest company money in a project I haven’t studied enough.» Heavy silence fell in the room.

Then Sommers’ voice. «Perhaps there’s a compromise.» «Ethan, you could give preliminary approval with a clause that final decision comes after legal review.

That would reserve the land but leave you the right to refuse if something doesn’t suit.» «That’s reasonable,» Sinclair agreed after a pause. «Fine, I’m ready for that.

But no money transfers until all checks are complete.» Veronica heard Grayson say something quietly to Markham, too quietly to make out. Then louder.

«Agreed. We’ll prepare the preliminary contract tomorrow.» Deciding she’d heard enough, Veronica quietly moved away from the door and went upstairs to her room.

She didn’t want to risk returning to the living room; too great the chance Grayson might remember where he’d seen her before. In her room, she sat on the bed and pondered. Something didn’t add up in this story.

Why were Grayson and Markham pushing this project so insistently? And why the rush to sign the contract? If Catherine discovered machinations on their part, perhaps this project was part of their plan. But what plan? Bankrupt the company? Take the business from Sinclair? And where is Catherine herself now? Veronica recalled the clinic employee’s words that Evelyn was picked up by the guardian 8 months ago. If the guardian was Grayson, where could he have taken her? Unlikely another clinic—too many papers, too high risk of exposure.

More likely some secluded place where she’s held under guard or… she’s no longer alive. Suddenly, Veronica recalled a memory. During dinner, Grayson mentioned his country house, a secluded spot for rest from city hustle.

Perhaps Catherine is there? But how to check? Can’t just go and start searching. Need a plan, need allies. And most importantly, need to act fast before the partners suspect something.

Veronica decided tomorrow she’d talk to Ethan. Despite the risk, he must know the truth about his daughter. And together, they could find a way to save Catherine and expose the partners’ conspiracy.

With that thought, she finally lay down to sleep, though sleep was long in coming. Too many questions unanswered, too great the danger. But one thing Veronica knew for sure—she wouldn’t back down until she saw this through.

The morning was overcast, with low clouds promising rain. Veronica woke early, determined to talk to Ethan. But first, ensure Grayson and Markham had left the house.

Descending to breakfast, she learned with relief from Anna Paulson that the guests left late evening, and Ethan was lingering in his room, working on documents. He asked to say he’ll come down later, the housekeeper reported. And Constantine asked to wake him at nine, not earlier.

Yesterday’s evening tired him. This gave Veronica time to prepare for the important conversation. She quickly breakfasted and went to the garden to collect her thoughts.

How best to present to Ethan the news his daughter is likely alive? How to convince him without hard evidence? She decided to start with Catherine’s diary. The entry about suspicions toward the partners confirmed the girl discovered something. Then tell about the clinic patient match, same blood type, same wrist fracture.

Too many coincidences for chance. At 10 o’clock, after Constantine got his morning procedures and stayed to rest in the room, Veronica finally resolved. She went up to the second floor and knocked on Ethan’s study door.

«Come in,» his voice sounded. Sinclair sat at the desk, piled with papers. Seeing Veronica, he smiled.

«Good morning. How’s father?» «Fine, resting after procedures,» she replied. «Ethan, I need to talk to you seriously.

It’s very important.» Something in her tone alerted him. He set aside the documents and pointed to the chair opposite.

«I’m listening.» Veronica took a deep breath and began. «This concerns your daughter, Catherine.»

Sinclair’s face instantly changed. Becoming tense and closed. «What exactly?» he asked coldly.

«I have reason to believe she’s alive,» Veronica said directly. And that her disappearance is linked to her discovering some machinations by your partners.» For several seconds, dead silence hung in the study.

Sinclair looked at her as if she’d suddenly spoken in an alien language. «What nonsense?» he uttered. «My daughter died in a car accident a year and a half ago.

That’s a fact. Please, hear me out, Veronica pleaded. I have evidence.»

She pulled out her phone and showed him the photo of the diary page. «This is your daughter’s diary. I found it in her room.»

The last entry says she found suspicious documents with Grayson and Markham. Sinclair took the phone and studied the photo closely. His hands trembled slightly.

«This is Katie’s handwriting,» he said slowly. But this proves nothing. Yes, she suspected something, but then died in the accident.

Perhaps it wasn’t an accident, perhaps Grayson and Markham are involved in her death. But the fact remains—she’s dead. «No,» Veronica said firmly.

«A year ago, I worked at Clear Meadows Psychiatric Clinic. There was a patient strikingly like Catherine. Brought by a man claiming to be her uncle.

It was Alex Grayson. I recognized him yesterday. The patient was named Evelyn Porter.

She had PTSD and partial amnesia. Sinclair looked at her skeptically. This could be simple coincidence.

She had AB negative blood type, like Catherine, and traces of a right wrist fracture, the same as your daughter’s. The odds of such coincidence are practically zero. Sinclair paled.

He stood from the desk and went to the window, staring unseeingly at the garden. If what you say is true, his voice trembled, if Katie is alive. Where is she now? Eight months ago, she was taken from the clinic, Veronica replied.

Likely at Grayson’s country house. He mentioned it at dinner yesterday. Sinclair turned sharply to her.

Why? Why hold her captive for a year and a half? What are they after? I think it’s about the company, Veronica suggested. Catherine learned something about their plans, perhaps embezzlement of firm money. They feared she’d tell you and ruin their plans.

So they staged her death and hid her. And who died in that car? Sinclair still couldn’t fully believe what he heard. I don’t know, Veronica admitted honestly.

Perhaps they found someone similar in build. The body was badly burned; identification by dental records and personal items. Those can be faked, especially with connections.

Sinclair slowly returned to the desk and sank into the chair, as if suddenly aged 10 years. «I should have guessed,» he said quietly. There were signs.

Katie spoke of suspicions. Then that strange accident. And all the time since, Grayson and Markham behaved differently than before.

More assertively, more confidently, as if… As if they knew I couldn’t oppose them without my daughter’s support. «What are you going to do?» Veronica asked.

Sinclair looked at her, pain and despair replaced by resolve. «Find my daughter. And make those bastards pay for everything they’ve done.

Can’t act recklessly,» Veronica warned. «If they learn you suspect something, they might harm Catherine or move her.» «You’re right,» he agreed after a pause.

«Need to act carefully. First, find out exactly where Grayson’s country house is.» He pressed a button on the phone.

«Victor, come in, please.» A minute later, the assistant entered. «Victor, do you remember Alex Grayson’s country house? The one we went to for barbecue two years ago?» «Of course.

Cottage by the lake, about 25 miles from the city, on the northern highway.» Do you remember the exact address? «Not exactly, but I can show on the map. And I should have the coordinates in the navigator; I drove you there.»

«Excellent,» Sinclair nodded. «Find those details and bring them to me. And prepare the car for departure in an hour.

Just not the company one, my personal SUV. And not a word to anyone about our plans.» «Understood,» Victor said and left.

Sinclair turned to Veronica. «You’ll come with me. If Katie is really there, and in the state you describe, she may need medical help.»

«Of course,» Veronica agreed. «But what do we tell your father?» «The truth,» Ethan replied firmly. «Or at least part of it.

That we have hope Katie is alive, and we’re going to check this information.» Father is stronger than he seems; he’ll handle the news. An hour later, with everything prepared, they stood by the car. Constantine, pale but determined, came out to see them off.

«Find my granddaughter,» he said, hugging his son. «And bring her home.» «We will,» Ethan promised.

«And you take care. We’ll be back soon, and everything will be fine.» The drive to Grayson’s country house took a little over an hour.

They drove in silence, each lost in thoughts. Veronica worried that if she was wrong? How would Ethan handle another disappointment? But her inner voice said she was on the right path. Too many coincidences, too many oddities in this story.

Catherine is alive, and she needs help. Finally, the navigator announced they had arrived. Before them was a high fence with gates, behind which a large wooden house in Scandinavian style was visible.

The area seemed deserted, but there was a security camera at the gates. «How do we get inside?» Veronica asked. Sinclair pulled a small device from the glove compartment.

Universal gate remote. Grayson boastfully gave it to me two years ago when inviting me. Said I could come anytime.

He smiled bitterly. He hardly imagined I’d use that invitation in such circumstances. He pressed the button on the remote, and the gates slowly opened…

Sinclair drove the car onto the property and parked in the shade of trees so it wasn’t visible from the road. Judging by everything, the house is empty, he noted, looking around. No cars, no security.

That’s strange, Veronica frowned. If they’re holding Catherine here, there should be security. Perhaps they don’t expect visitors, especially on a weekday, Sinclair suggested.

Or the security is inside the house. They cautiously approached the porch. The door was locked, but a nearby window was ajar.

Sinclair climbed in without hesitation and opened the door from inside, letting Veronica in. The house looked lived-in: cups with unfinished coffee in the living room, an open magazine on the sofa, breakfast remnants in the kitchen. Someone had clearly been here very recently.

Need to check all rooms, Sinclair whispered. You take the first floor, I’ll go upstairs. Veronica nodded and began systematically checking rooms.

Kitchen, living room, dining room, study—everywhere signs of recent presence, but no trace of Catherine or anyone who could be her guard. Suddenly, she heard a muffled exclamation from above. Her heart sank—was Ethan finding his daughter? Or running into security? Veronica rushed to the stairs and ran up.

In the far room, door wide open, she saw Sinclair. He stood motionless, staring at something on the wall. Approaching, Veronica saw it was a city map with marked points.

Nearby hung photos showing Ethan Sinclair in various places: leaving the office, getting into the car, dining at a restaurant. Some photos included Veronica. They’re watching us, Sinclair said quietly.

All this time. Veronica examined the photos in horror. Some were taken very recently: here she is leaving the Sinclair mansion to the garden, here she and Ethan talking by the fountain.

We need to leave here, she said decisively. If they’ve been watching us, they might have noticed we came here. Wait, Sinclair pointed to another wall.

Look at this. There hung another map, this time of rural area. A small point in the forest was circled in red, about 12 miles from current location.

Pinned nearby was a photo of a small hunting cabin. Think she could be there? Veronica asked. Possibly, Sinclair nodded.

That’s Grayson’s old hunting cabin. He showed it to me once, about five years ago. Said he uses it as a lair for solitude.

Isolated, hard-to-reach place, far from roads and prying eyes. Perfect spot to hold a captive, Veronica agreed. But how do we get there? From the map, no road.

There’s a forest trail you can drive on with an off-roader, Sinclair replied. That’s why I took the SUV, not a regular car. As if I anticipated.

They quickly photographed the map with the marked cabin and hurried to leave the house. Already in the car, driving out the gates, Veronica noticed a dust cloud in the distance—someone was approaching. «Faster,» she said tensely.

«Looks like company.» Sinclair hit the gas, and the SUV surged down the road. A couple miles later, he turned onto a narrow forest road.

«This will shorten the way and throw them off if they spotted us,» he explained. «Hold on tight; it’ll be bumpy.» The car indeed bounced on every bump and root.

Veronica gripped the handle above the door, mentally thanking Sinclair for foresight—a regular sedan wouldn’t make it here. After half an hour driving through forest, the road narrowed to a path. «Further on foot,» Sinclair said, stopping the car.

From the map, about two miles left. He took a small backpack from the trunk with a water bottle, first aid kit, and binoculars. Veronica also took her medical bag—if Catherine is there, she might need help.

They delved into the forest, trying to move as quietly as possible. Day was turning to evening, and sun rays barely penetrated the dense canopy. The air was scented with greenery and damp earth.

Finally, a small clearing appeared ahead, with a wooden hunting cabin on it, exactly like in the photo. Sinclair gestured Veronica to stop and pulled out binoculars. «See smoke from the chimney,» he whispered.

«Someone’s definitely there.» And an SUV parked at the entrance. Veronica strained to see the cabin.

Could they have found Catherine? And if yes, how to free her? Two against armed guards, slim chances. «Need to get closer and look in the window,» she decided. «Find out how many people and where exactly Catherine is held, if she’s there.»

«Too risky,» Sinclair shook his head. «Open space around the cabin; they’ll spot us right away.» «Then wait for dark,» Veronica suggested.

«It’s almost evening; soon it’ll be dark.» They retreated deeper into the forest and settled to wait, observing the cabin from afar. Time dragged agonizingly slow.

When it finally darkened, light appeared in the hunting cabin windows. «Now we can get closer,» Sinclair whispered. «Just carefully.»

They slowly approached the cabin, staying in tree shadows. Reaching the window, Sinclair cautiously peered inside and recoiled, his face white as sheet. «What there?» Veronica asked anxiously.

«Katie,» he rasped. «She’s there. Sitting at the table.

With her a man, seems guard. And someone else in the next room—I didn’t see.» Veronica’s heart pounded faster.

«So she was right. Catherine is alive. Let me look,» she requested.

Standing on tiptoe, Veronica peered in the window. In the sparsely furnished room, at the table sat a young woman—thin, pale, with a lifeless gaze. But even in this exhausted state, Veronica recognized her as the clinic patient, Evelyn.

Thus, Catherine Sinclair. Nearby sat a sturdy man with a stern face, clearly a bodyguard. He lazily flipped through a magazine, glancing at the girl occasionally.

From the adjacent room, door ajar, someone paced. «What do we do?» Veronica whispered, stepping away from the window. «We’re just two, and they likely have weapons.»

Sinclair clenched his fists. «I won’t leave without my daughter. Even if I have to fight.»

«Wait,» Veronica stopped him. «Need to act smarter. I have an idea.»

She opened her medical bag and took out several ampoules. «This is strong sedative,» she explained. «If added to food or drink, person will pass out in about fifteen minutes.

I need to get inside somehow and mix it in.» «Too dangerous,» Sinclair shook his head. «They might grab you.»

«No choice,» Veronica said firmly. «I’m a nurse; I know what I’m doing. Besides, they don’t know me, unlike you.»

After long arguments, they devised a plan. Veronica was to knock on the door, posing as a lost hiker, and ask for help. While the guards are distracted, she’d try to add the sedative to their drinks.

Sinclair would stay outside and enter on the signal—two short knocks on the window. «If I don’t signal in half an hour, call the police,» Veronica said, handing him her phone. «And don’t try to enter alone; it’s too dangerous.»

Sinclair reluctantly agreed. Veronica disheveled her hair, smeared her face with dirt, and tore her blouse sleeve to look like someone long wandering the forest. Then, taking a deep breath, she headed to the cabin.

Her heart pounded so hard it seemed audible a mile away. But no retreat. Veronica climbed the porch and knocked resolutely on the door.

Inside, everything went quiet. Then heavy footsteps, and the door cracked open; on the threshold stood the guard she’d seen in the window. «Who are you? How did you get here?» he asked roughly.

«Please help,» Veronica said in a trembling voice. «I’m lost in the forest. We were on a hike with friends, and I fell behind the group.

Been wandering for hours.» She stepped forward and swayed, feigning extreme fatigue. The guard instinctively steadied her, and Veronica seized the moment to look him in the eyes pleadingly.

«Can I come in? Just for a minute, to rest and call my friends.» The guard hesitated. At that moment, a voice from inside the house.

«Who’s there, Stephen?» «Some girl—says she’s lost,» the guard replied. «Let her in,» the unseen one said after a pause. «We’ll see what kind of bird she is.»

The guard reluctantly stepped aside, letting Veronica into the house. She entered, portraying extreme fatigue and gratitude. In the room at the table still sat Catherine, but now her gaze was fixed on Veronica.

Something like recognition flashed in the girl’s eyes. «Hope?» But she immediately lowered her head, as if fearing to show emotions. From the other room emerged a middle-aged man Veronica hadn’t seen before.

He scanned her appraisingly. «Lost, huh? And how did you end up in such wilderness?» We had a picnic by the river with friends, Veronica began inventing. I went to pick berries and didn’t notice how far I went.

When I tried to return, I realized I didn’t know the way. «And where’s your phone?» the man squinted. Dead battery, Veronica replied quickly.

I tried calling but couldn’t. The man exchanged glances with the guard, and Veronica realized her story sounded not very convincing. Need to act faster…

«Please, can I have a glass of water?» she pleaded pitifully. «I’m so thirsty!» «Stephen, get water for our guest,» the man ordered. The guard went to the kitchen, and Veronica followed, staggering for effect.

Stephen reluctantly opened the cabinet with mineral water and soda bottles. Veronica reached for water and «accidentally» dropped a bottle. «Oh, sorry!» she exclaimed, bending to pick it up.

At that moment, she discreetly pulled a plastic ampoule with sedative from her pocket and hid it in her palm. While the guard was distracted, she quickly uncapped it and squeezed the sedative into an open cola bottle on the table and into the teapot with tea on the stove. Then, as if nothing happened, she straightened with the water bottle in hand.

«Thank you so much!» she said gratefully, taking a sip. «You have no idea how worn out I am.» They returned to the room where the second man remained.

Veronica portrayed relief. «Thank you! I was so afraid I’d have to spend the night in the forest.» «Stephen, pour yourself some cola!» the man said to the guard.

«And tea for me! And watch our… guests. I’ll go check the perimeter, just in case.» He grabbed his jacket and left the house.

The other guard poured himself cola and took a big gulp, then filled a cup with tea for his partner when he returns. Veronica glanced discreetly at her watch. Now wait for the sedative to take effect and signal Sinclair.

She cautiously shifted her gaze to Catherine. The girl sat motionless, but her eyes now held tense attention. She seemed to understand something was happening.

Fifteen agonizing minutes passed. The guard finished his cola and began yawning, eyes glazing over. Veronica noted with relief the sedative working.

«Something’s making me sleepy,» Stephen muttered. «Don’t think of going anywhere, got it?» He looked at Catherine, then Veronica. «Sit quietly.

Sam will be back soon.» He sank heavily onto the sofa, and a few minutes later his breathing became even and deep; he was asleep. Veronica jumped to him, snatched the phone from his breast pocket, stuffed it in her bag, then rushed to the window and knocked twice shortly.

Almost immediately, the door burst open, and Ethan Sinclair stormed in. Seeing his daughter, he froze for a moment, disbelieving. «Katie?» he called quietly.

Catherine slowly rose from the table, her lips trembling. «Dad? Is it you?» Sinclair rushed to his daughter and hugged her tightly. Catherine tensed at first, then went limp in his arms, tears streaming down her cheeks.

«I thought I’d never see you again,» she whispered. «They said you died. That everyone died.»

«Everything’s okay, baby,» he soothed, stroking her hair. «Now everything will be okay. I found you and will never let go again.»

Veronica watched the scene with emotion but didn’t forget time. «We need to leave. Quickly.

The other one could return any minute. But I managed to slash all four tires on their car with a knife.» Sinclair nodded and helped his daughter stand.

Catherine was very weak, her legs buckling. «I can’t walk fast,» she said guiltily. «They…

They gave me some drugs to keep me calm and not try to escape.» «I’ll carry you,» Sinclair said decisively and lifted his daughter in his arms. «Veronica, lead us to the car.»

They left the cabin and quickly moved toward the forest. Veronica went ahead, peering intently into the darkness and listening to every rustle. Sinclair followed, carefully carrying his daughter.

Suddenly, a shout behind them. «Stop! Stop, I say!» It was the guard. He’d noticed their escape.

«Run!» Veronica cried. «I’ll delay him!» She turned sharply and charged at the pursuer, hoping to buy time for the fugitives. The man didn’t expect the move and hesitated momentarily, giving Veronica a chance.

She collided with him full force, and both tumbled to the ground. A struggle ensued. The guard was stronger, but Veronica fought with desperate resolve of someone with nothing to lose.

She scratched, bit, hit wherever, trying to gain every second for the escapees. Suddenly, a shot rang out, and the man recoiled from her. A few yards away stood Sinclair with a gun in hand.

«Get away from her!» he said coldly. Or the next bullet won’t be in the air. The guard slowly stood, raising his hands.

«Give me your weapon and phone!» Sinclair said evenly, aiming at the guard’s forehead. He obediently tossed his phone, gun, and knife, which Veronica promptly picked up. Keeping the guard at gunpoint, he backed away with Veronica to the forest, where Catherine waited.

Once hidden among the trees, the guard shouted after them. «You won’t get far.» This spurred them on.

They quickened pace, Sinclair again carrying his daughter, moving to the car as quietly and fast as possible. «Where did you get the gun?» Veronica whispered when they’d distanced from the cabin a bit. «Brought it along.»

«Always keep it in the car,» he replied quietly. «In our business, sometimes you travel with large sums. Never thought I’d use it in such a situation.»

The way back seemed twice as long. Every rustle, every branch crack made them freeze and listen. But luckily, no pursuit.

Apparently, the guard decided not to chase them alone in the dark forest without a weapon. They’ll discover the car not drivable a bit later, and without phones, can’t call for help. And it’ll take them a whole day on foot to the nearest road.

Finally, they reached the car. Sinclair carefully laid his daughter on the back seat. Veronica sat next to her to monitor her condition, and Ethan took the driver’s seat.

«Hold on tight,» he warned, starting the engine. «The road will be rough.» The SUV lurched forward, bouncing on roots and bumps.

Catherine moaned quietly; the shaking caused pain. Veronica hugged the girl by the shoulders, trying to hold her steady. «Hang in there, dear,» she said gently.

«Soon we’ll be home, and this will end.» «Who are you?» Catherine asked weakly. «I remember you.»

«From the clinic, right?» «Yes, I worked there as a nurse when you were brought in,» Veronica confirmed. «My name is Veronica Benson. I’m helping your father care for your grandfather.»

«Grandfather.» Tears welled in the girl’s eyes. «He’s alive?» They said he died of grief after my death.

«Alive and waiting eagerly for you,» Veronica smiled. «He’s a very strong man, your grandfather.» The car emerged onto a smoother road, and Sinclair accelerated.

They raced through the forest, praying to reach the city before Grayson organized pursuit. «Dad,» Catherine called, «you need to know.» Grayson and Markham.

They’re planning something big. I found documents proving they plan to seize company assets through shell companies. They want to bankrupt Sinclair Construction and buy it all cheap.

«I suspected something like that,» Sinclair replied grimly. But couldn’t figure out how exactly they planned to pull it off. «Everything’s on my laptop,» Catherine continued.

«I copied the documents before the Austria trip. The laptop should be in my room if they didn’t find it.» «They didn’t,» her father assured.

«I checked your laptop after…» «After your disappearance, but found nothing unusual.» «Files in a hidden folder,» Catherine explained.

«Under password.» «Mr. Snowball, remember?» «My first cat’s name.» «Remember, of course,» Sinclair smiled.

«Katie, you have no idea how I missed you. And I thought I’d never see you again,» she replied quietly. «At first, in the early months, I tried to escape.

But they kept me on drugs; I was semi-conscious most of the time. Then took me to that clinic. And when they took me from there, said you died, everyone died, and I had nowhere to go.

I stopped resisting. Lost hope.» «It’s all behind us,» Sinclair said firmly.

«Now we’re together again, and no one can separate us. And Grayson and Markham will answer for everything they’ve done.» Veronica looked at father and daughter with warmth and relief.

Despite all dangers of this night, despite worry for the future, she was happy. She managed to help reunite the family, correct a monstrous injustice. That was the main thing.

When they hit the highway to the city, Sinclair slowed a bit to avoid drawing traffic police attention. About an hour’s drive to home. «What do we do next?» Veronica asked.

«First, take Katie home and call the doctor,» Sinclair said decisively. «Then I’ll contact my friend in the police, Lieutenant Colonel Sawyer. Tell him everything and hand over evidence from Katie’s laptop. Let law enforcement handle those scoundrels.»

«And if Grayson has connections in the police?» Veronica asked worriedly. «Possibly,» Sinclair agreed. «But I’m not staying silent.

Besides, I have influence and connections too. We’ll fight, and we’ll win. Truth is on our side.»

Catherine fell asleep, head on Veronica’s lap. Likely stress and residual drug effects. Veronica gently stroked her hair, thinking what this girl had endured.

A year and a half in captivity, isolated from loved ones, under psychotropics. It could break anyone. She’d need time to fully recover physically and psychologically.

But now she had family support, and that’s key. Finally, they arrived at the Sinclair mansion. It was past midnight, but lights were on; Constantine hadn’t slept, waiting for their return.

When the car stopped at the porch, the door flung open, and the old man, leaning on his cane, came out to meet them. Ethan carefully carried his daughter from the car. Catherine woke and, seeing her grandfather, burst into tears.

«Grandpa! You’re alive!» Constantine, unashamed of tears, hobbled to them. «Katie! My girl!» Ethan brought his daughter to his father, and they embraced, all three, united by joy of reunion and sorrow of endured separation. Veronica stood aside, not wanting to intrude on this touching moment.

But Sinclair noticed her and gestured to join. «Veronica, this wouldn’t have happened without you! You’re part of our victory!» They entered the house, where worried Anna Paulson and Victor waited. Seeing Catherine, the housekeeper cried and rushed to hug the girl, lamenting and thanking heavens for the miraculous return.

«Anna Paulson, please prepare Katie’s room,» Sinclair ordered. «Victor, call Dr. Klein immediately, say it’s an emergency. And call Lieutenant Colonel Sawyer, have him come as soon as possible.»

While these orders were carried out, Veronica helped Catherine shower and change into clean clothes. The girl was very weak, moved with difficulty, but sparks of former vitality appeared in her eyes. «Thank you,» she said quietly as Veronica helped brush her hair.

«You risked your life for me, though we weren’t even acquainted.» «I did what I had to,» Veronica replied simply. «Anyone in my place would do the same.»

«And call me ‘you’; we’re about the same age.» «Then you too.» «And not anyone,» Catherine shook her head…

At the clinic, many saw something was wrong with me, but no one cared, no one tried to help. Except you. Veronica blushed.

«I just remembered you because you were an unusual patient.» Then, when I saw the photo in your grandfather’s study, something clicked in memory. They descended to the living room, where Ethan and Constantine already awaited police and doctor.

The elder Sinclair wouldn’t release his granddaughter’s hand, as if fearing she’d disappear again if he loosened his grip for a moment. Soon Dr. Klein arrived. Examining Catherine, he diagnosed exhaustion, anemia, and effects of long-term sedative use, but assured with proper treatment and care, the girl would fully recover.

She needs rest, good nutrition, and gradual reduction of sedatives to avoid withdrawal, he explained to Sinclair. I’ll prescribe necessary meds and visit daily. Following the doctor came Lieutenant Colonel Sawyer, a burly man about 50 with keen eyes and a tired face.

Listening to Sinclair’s story and reviewing evidence copied from Catherine’s laptop, he frowned. Serious case. Kidnapping, large-scale fraud, faking death.

Enough for multiple sentences. But Grayson is influential with serious connections. Are you afraid of him? Sinclair asked directly.

Me? No, the lieutenant colonel smirked. I’m too old for fear and too close to retirement to worry about career. But I must warn you, this will be a tough case.

You’ll need good security, especially for your daughter. She’s the key witness. I’ve already arranged that, Sinclair agreed.

From today, the house is under round-the-clock guard. And we won’t let Catherine out anywhere soon. Good, Sawyer approved.

I’ll start the investigation immediately. Try to act as fast as possible before Grayson covers tracks. After the policeman left, relative calm finally settled in the house.

Catherine, exhausted by the day’s events, fell asleep in her room. Constantine, despite the late hour and his condition, refused to sleep, as if fearing to wake and find it all a dream. Veronica and Ethan remained alone in the living room.

Sinclair poured himself whiskey and offered Veronica, but she declined—too much adrenaline without alcohol. I still can’t believe this is real, he admitted, taking a sip. Just this morning, I was sure my daughter was dead, and now she’s sleeping upstairs in her room.

It’s like a miracle. Miracles happen sometimes, Veronica smiled softly. Especially if helped a bit.

Sinclair looked at her gratefully. You’re an incredible woman, Veronica. Brave, smart, determined.

Without you, I’d never have found Katie. You would have. Otherwise.

It would be unfair, she said confidently. He approached closer and took her hand. Anyway, I’m infinitely grateful to fate for bringing you to our home.

And not just because of Katie. He paused, choosing words. You know, when I first saw you in my study, so proud even in despair, I felt something.

Something I hadn’t felt in a very long time. Veronica blushed. Ethan, now’s not the time.

I know, he nodded. Not the time or place for confessions. Too much has happened, too much still to endure.

I just wanted you to know. You’ve become an important part of my life. And I hope it stays that way.

Veronica didn’t know what to say. Events of recent days had turned her life upside down. And she hadn’t yet processed all her feelings.

But one thing she knew for sure. This house and these people had become dear to her. And she didn’t want to leave them.

Let’s talk about this later, she said softly. When everything settles, when Catherine recovers, and Grayson and Markham are behind bars, then we’ll have time to sort our feelings. Sinclair nodded understandingly.

You’re right, as always. Main thing now is family safety and restoring justice. Everything else can wait.

The next morning, the Sinclair home had an atmosphere of cautious optimism. Catherine woke stronger, even managed to come down to breakfast herself, though with her father’s help. Constantine, despite the sleepless night, looked remarkably alert; joy from his granddaughter’s return gave him strength.

At breakfast, Ethan shared a call from Lieutenant Colonel Sawyer. Police already acting. They interviewed clinic staff, seized documents on Evelyn Porter’s stay.

Now searching for the forest cabin guards. If found and made to testify, we’ll have direct evidence against Grayson. And what about him? Veronica asked.

Not arrested yet, Sinclair frowned. I can testify, Veronica offered. I saw Grayson bring Catherine to the clinic, heard his talk with staff.

That’ll help, Ethan nodded. But Sawyer advises no one leave the house for now. Grayson is desperate, thus especially dangerous.

Catherine, who’d listened silently till then, suddenly said «I have something else that might help.» All turned to her. That day it all happened, I wasn’t just driving home from Austria.

I was returning from a meeting with a man who gave me info on Grayson’s and Markham’s shadow deals. His name is Stefan Meier. He’s a financial consultant who worked with the Austrian company through which company money was laundered.

And where is this Meier now? Sinclair perked up. Don’t know. Catherine shook her head.

But I have his business card left. It should be in my bag. If Grayson didn’t destroy it, of course.

«Your bag wasn’t found,» Ethan said grimly. «Presumably burned with the car.» «So no card,» Catherine sighed.

«But I remember his email. It was unusual. Maybe contact him that way?» «We’ll definitely try,» Sinclair nodded.

«This could be a key lead.» After breakfast, when Constantine and Catherine retired to rest, Ethan pulled Veronica aside. «I have a plan,» he said quietly.

«Risky, but potentially very effective. I need your help.» «I’m listening,» Veronica replied warily.

«This morning I already installed through my people a hidden camera and microphone in the office in Grayson’s office and will try to get them to confess what they did to Katie. They think the guards haven’t reached the city yet and haven’t alerted them to the prisoner’s escape. «I need to go, and you stay here with Katie and father,» Sinclair replied.

«Protect them if something goes wrong. There’ll be security in the house, but I’ll be calmer knowing someone I fully trust is with them.» A few hours later, when the promised security arrived—two sturdy men in civilian clothes but with clear military bearing—Sinclair left for Sawyer.

Veronica, Catherine, and Constantine stayed home, tensely awaiting news. To distract from anxious thoughts, Veronica suggested Catherine write an email to Stefan Meier. They composed the text long, trying to include enough info for Meier to understand who from, but not revealing too much in case someone else uses the email.

Time dragged agonizingly slow. Every sound, every rustle made them start and listen. Finally, almost three hours after Ethan’s departure, his phone rang.

«Yes?» Veronica answered tensely. «Ethan?» «Veronica, it worked.» Triumph sounded in Sinclair’s voice.

They slipped up. Everything recorded on camera and microphone. Sawyer is here, making the arrest.

«I’ll be home soon.» «Thank God,» Veronica exhaled. «We were so worried.»

«All good,» Sinclair assured. «Soon this nightmare will be behind us. Hug Katie and father for me.»

When Veronica told the news to Catherine and Constantine, immense relief showed on their faces. For the first time in ages, they could truly relax, knowing the main danger passed. An hour later, Ethan returned home, tired but triumphant.

He told how it happened. First, all went as usual. They talked about the contract.

Then Markham got nervous, and Grayson started asking what exactly I found. What discrepancies? He hinted I probably learned about shell companies and how they tried to bankrupt the company. Then Grayson exploded.

Started saying I’d regret if I try to hinder them. And then said the phrase that doomed him. «We won’t stop at removing him.

We handled his daughter easily.» He directly admitted kidnapping Katie. Veronica gasped.

Not quite, Sinclair shook his head. He spoke in hints, but clear enough to understand. Combined with other evidence, enough for arrest and charges.

Especially since Sawyer and his men heard everything through the microphone in the office. «And Markham?» Catherine asked. He tried to stop Grayson, object, but it was too late.

When police entered the office, Markham surrendered immediately, and Grayson tried to flee through the back exit. Didn’t work, of course. «So it’s over?» Catherine asked hopefully.

«Almost,» Sinclair nodded. They’ve been charged with kidnapping, fraud, attempted murder, and a dozen other articles. Trial will likely be long, but with existing evidence, outcome is foregone.

They’ll spend many years behind bars. That evening, a small celebration was held at the Sinclair home. Anna Paulson prepared a special dinner, collectible wine was opened, and for the first time in ages, the whole family gathered at one table, happy, reunited, looking to the future with hope.

Veronica, watching them, felt amazing warmth in her chest. These people, strangers to her a week ago, now became close. She helped them regain happiness, and they repaid with the same, giving her a new home and new family.

When dinner neared end, Ethan Sinclair stood and raised his glass. I want to make a toast, he announced. To the most amazing woman I’ve ever met…

To the person who returned my daughter and life’s meaning. To Veronica. All supported the toast, and Veronica smiled embarrassed.

I just did what I thought right. And that’s what makes you special, Ethan said quietly, looking into her eyes with undisguised admiration. At that moment, Veronica realized her life had truly changed forever.

From a homeless, desperate woman, she turned into someone with a home, family, and perhaps love. Shadows of the past receded, giving way to bright light of the present and hope for a happy future. A year passed.

The Sinclair mansion, always luxurious, looked especially festive today. Flower garlands adorned columns, musicians tuned instruments in the garden, waiters bustled among guests with trays of champagne and appetizers. Veronica stood at her room window—that same blue guest room that over the year became truly her own.

She examined her reflection in the mirror: elegant cream dress accentuated her figure, hair in an exquisite updo, necklace on her neck—a gift from Ethan for the engagement. Yes, they got engaged three months ago, when the trial of Grayson and Markham ended. Both received long prison terms—20 and 15 years respectively.

Catherine was the main prosecution witness, and her testimony, along with the recording of confessions and documents from her laptop, were decisive in the case. A quiet knock at the door. «Come in,» Veronica called.

On the threshold appeared Catherine—beautiful, self-assured young woman, so unlike the exhausted captive they freed a year ago. «Ready?» she asked with a smile. Guests are gathered, and dad is nervous as if he’s giving the speech today.

Veronica laughed. «Coming. Just…

Wanted a minute alone to reflect on everything that’s happened this year.» «I understand,» Catherine nodded. «Sometimes it seems like a dream to me too.

That I’ll wake up in that hunting cabin or the clinic.» «It’s not a dream,» Veronica said softly, approaching the girl and hugging her. «It’s real.

And it’s wonderful.» They descended to the garden, where guests were assembled: friends, colleagues, business partners. Today wasn’t just Constantine’s birthday, who to everyone’s joy almost fully recovered from the stroke.

Today also officially announced Ethan and Veronica’s engagement and Catherine’s appointment as vice-president of Sinclair Construction. Ethan, seeing Veronica, immediately approached her. «You’re beautiful,» he said, kissing her hand.

«Ready for the formal announcement.» Quite, she smiled. «Though I still can’t believe this is happening to me.»

«Believe,» Sinclair said seriously. «You deserve this and more.» Constantine, for the occasion forgoing his cane, approached them.

«Young folks, time to start the official part. Guests are waiting.» Ethan nodded and ascended the small stage set in the garden.

Guests quieted, awaiting his speech. «Friends,» Sinclair began.

«Today we have a triple celebration. First, my father’s birthday, Constantine Sinclair, the man to whom I owe everything I have.» He raised his glass toward his father, and guests supported with applause.

«Second, today my daughter Catherine officially assumes the position of vice-president at Sinclair Construction. I always knew she’d one day lead our business, and this day brings that closer.» New applause.

«And finally, most important to me personally. Today I officially announce my engagement to the most amazing woman I’ve met—to Veronica Benson.» He extended his hand, and Veronica joined him on stage.

Guests applauded even louder. «A year ago,» Sinclair continued, «this woman changed my life. She returned my daughter when all thought her dead.

She breathed new life into this home and my heart. And today I’m happy to announce that in a month, she’ll become my wife.» He kissed Veronica to the approving cheers of guests.

Constantine, moved to tears, hugged them both, then the joining Catherine. «Family together again,» the old man said quietly. «I couldn’t wish for greater happiness.»

Later, when the official part ended and guests scattered through the garden enjoying the fine summer evening, Veronica stepped to a quiet corner to rest a bit from noise and congratulations. Catherine approached with a champagne glass. «Here, take.

You need it.» «Thanks,» Veronica smiled, accepting the glass. «How do you feel? Not tired from attention?» «A little,» Catherine admitted.

«But I’m happy. Happy for dad, for grandpa, for you. For all of us.

We went through real hell and came out stronger than before. True?» Veronica agreed. «You know, sometimes I think all that happened was some strange, twisted gift of fate.

If I hadn’t been fired from the clinic, if I hadn’t ended up on the street, if your father hadn’t offered me the job… I’d never have met you, met him. Never found a new family.»

Fate works in strange ways, Catherine philosophized. But ultimately, everything falls into place as it should. They fell silent, watching the celebrating guests.

Ethan was animatedly discussing something with a group of business partners, but his gaze kept returning to Veronica, as if assuring himself she’s still here, real. «He loves you very much,» Catherine said, following Veronica’s gaze. «I’ve never seen him so happy, even before all this.»

I love him too, Veronica replied simply. «And you, and your grandfather. You’ve become my family…

And we’ll always be your family,» Catherine said firmly, hugging her. «No matter what.» Ethan approached with a beaming smile.

«What are you whispering about, my dears?» he asked jokingly. «Hope not plotting how to tame me after the wedding?» «No,» Catherine laughed. «For that, we need a separate meeting, preferably with grandpa.

He knows your weak spots best.» Traitor, Sinclair frowned playfully. «And this is my own daughter.»

They laughed, enjoying the moment of pure, unclouded happiness. Veronica surveyed the garden full of guests, flowers, and music, thinking how far she’d come from that desperate woman on the park bench just a year ago. Her gaze stopped on Constantine, happily accepting congratulations from guests.

The old man caught her eye and winked, as if saying, «See how well everything turned out.» «Yes,» Veronica thought, «everything turned out just perfect.» Shadows of the past had fully dissipated, giving way to bright sunlight of the present and future promising to be even more beautiful.

«What are you thinking about?» Ethan asked quietly, embracing her shoulders. «About how amazing life is,» she replied, leaning against him. «And how grateful I am to fate for every turn that brought me here, to you.»

«I’m grateful too,» he agreed. «For you, for Katie’s return, for father’s health. For everything.»

Veronica, looking at her loved ones, at the home that became native, at happy faces around, knew it was true. Life can be unfair, cruel, and merciless, but sometimes it gifts moments of pure, unadulterated happiness that make all endured sufferings seem a small price. Ethan leaned down and tenderly kissed her.

Around them sounded approving cheers and applause from guests, but Veronica didn’t hear them. In that moment, only they two existed—man and woman who found each other despite all obstacles, despite logic and common sense, despite fate itself. And that was the greatest miracle of all.

Constantine raised his glass, drawing guests’ attention. «To my new daughter, Veronica. To my son and my granddaughter.

To our family, which went through fire and water but became only stronger. To the future awaiting us. To the future!» All present echoed.

Veronica and Ethan exchanged glances, and in their eyes read the same thought. Whatever trials this future prepares, they’ll meet them together, shoulder to shoulder, strong in their love and support for each other. Shadows of the past left behind.

Ahead was light.