Chapter 22

Nathan Blackwood rubbed his temples, a frown creasing his forehead. "Evelyn Carter... why does that name sound so familiar?"

His secretary Oliver Sinclair stood nervously before him. "I've conducted extensive research on Ms. Carter, sir."

Finally, Nathan thought, this incompetent assistant might actually be useful for once. "Report your findings."

Oliver's shoulders slumped. "There's... nothing to report. I couldn't find any information about her."

Nathan's icy gaze could have frozen molten lava. "Oliver, perhaps you should visit HR tomorrow to collect your termination papers."

"Mr. Blackwood, please!" Oliver wiped his sweaty palms on his trousers. "It's not for lack of trying. Ms. Carter's records are locked down tighter than Fort Knox. The only thing I discovered is that she's Harrison Kingsley's daughter from his first marriage. No social media presence, no digital footprint - it's like she's a ghost."

"Show me her photo," Nathan demanded.

Oliver fumbled with his phone. "Ah yes! This took considerable effort to obtain."

Nathan's temper flared when he saw the image. "Oliver Sinclair! Are you mocking me?"

The grainy photograph showed a toddler being held by Harrison Kingsley at what appeared to be a funeral. The image quality was so poor it could have been taken with a potato.

"Sir, this is literally the only existing photo of Ms. Carter on the entire internet," Oliver explained hurriedly. "It's from twenty years ago - at the funeral of Harrison's first wife."

Twenty years. That would make Evelyn approximately twenty-four now - around the same age as Victoria Sterling.

Nathan studied the blurry image, his frown deepening with each passing second. There was something unsettlingly familiar about the child's features...

Why did this toddler's face remind him so much of Victoria?

Damn it all. Ever since signing those divorce papers, his ex-wife kept invading his thoughts. What the hell was wrong with him?

A soft knock interrupted his brooding. "Young Master Nathan? The chairman requests your presence in the drawing room."

In the grand salon, Penelope Whitmore leaned dramatically against Leonard Blackwood's shoulder, dabbing at dry eyes with a monogrammed handkerchief. Though well into her forties, she still played the delicate flower to perfection.

"Leonard, darling," she sniffled, "my poor sister sacrificed her youth marrying into the Sterling family. She raised Damian and Victoria single-handedly, and now this tragedy? She called me in tears earlier..."

"There, there," Leonard soothed, stroking her shoulder. "We'll handle everything once Nathan arrives."

Penelope had clawed her way to the top of Blackwood Manor by ousting Nathan's mother years ago. Even now, Leonard remained utterly bewitched by her calculated charms.

"You wanted to see me, Father?" Nathan's voice cut through the melodrama like an arctic wind.

"Nathan! You must save the Sterlings!" Penelope's tears flowed anew. "Victoria's taken ill from the stress - she can't keep anything down. If you care for her at all, you'll fix this!"