Chapter 2: Bloodlines and Boardrooms
The next morning, the quiet of the Faulkner estate was shattered.
Owen stood at the head of the mahogany conference table in his home office. Across from him sat Julian Vance—Owen’s ruthless cousin, his second-in-command, and the man who stood to inherit the entire Faulkner empire if Owen died without an heir.
“A street urchin, Owen? Really?” Julian sneered, throwing a tabloid newspaper onto the table. The front page featured a blurry telephoto image of Owen carrying Hannah into his mansion.
The headline screamed: THE LONELY BILLIONAIRE’S INSTANT HEIR: A PR STUNT OR MADNESS?
“The board is in a panic,” Julian continued, leaning forward. “Stock prices dipped three percent this morning. The investors think you’ve lost your mind. You can’t just adopt a random child from the gutter and hand her a multi-billion-dollar legacy!”
“She is not random,” Owen said, his voice dangerously low. He kept his hands in his pockets to hide their trembling. The medication Dr. Harris had prescribed was making him dizzy.
“Oh? Then who is she?” Julian’s eyes narrowed, glittering with a cold, predatory intelligence. “Because my sources say she has no birth certificate, no records, nothing. If you try to legally adopt her, I will file for a mental incompetency hearing. I will have you declared unfit to run this company, and I will take conservatorship of your estate before your heart stops beating.”
Owen didn’t flinch. “Try it, Julian. I will spend every last dollar I own dragging you through the courts until you are left pennies.”
The Warning in the Dark
While the men clashed, Hannah stood behind the heavy velvet curtains of the office, listening. She didn’t understand "conservatorship" or "stocks," but she understood the tone of Julian’s voice. It was the tone of the alley bosses who beat children for failing to steal enough.
When Julian stormed out of the office, he ran straight into Hannah in the hallway.
He stopped, looking down at her with pure disgust. He knelt so his face was level with hers, his breath smelling of expensive cigars and malice.
“You think you hit the jackpot, don’t you, little rat?” Julian whispered. “But let me tell you a secret. This big, beautiful house is a tomb. And the man who brought you here is already dead. When he’s gone, I’m going to throw you right back into the trash where he found you.”
Hannah didn’t flinch. She looked Julian dead in the eye and did something that shocked him.
She spat on his polished Italian leather shoes.
Julian’s face twisted in rage. He raised his hand to strike her, but a voice like ice cut through the corridor.
“Touch her, Julian, and I will have my security team throw you off the roof of this building,” Owen said, standing at the end of the hall, a black briefcase in his hand.
Julian sneered, wiped his shoe with a handkerchief, and walked away. But as he left, he muttered, “Check your medicine cabinet, cousin. You look worse today than yesterday.”
A Discovery in the Lab
Owen immediately took Hannah to a private, highly secure medical clinic owned by a trusted friend, Dr. Sarah Lin. He needed two things: a full checkup for Hannah, and a highly confidential DNA test.
While Hannah was being examined, Owen handed Dr. Lin the DNA swab he had taken from Hannah’s cheek, along with a hair follicle from an old locket of Clara’s he had kept for years.
“I need this run immediately, Sarah. No one else can know.”
“Owen, you look incredibly pale,” Sarah said, her brow furrowed in concern. “Are you taking the beta-blockers Harris prescribed?”
“Yes. Every morning.”
“Let me run a toxicology screen on your blood while we wait for the DNA results,” Sarah insisted. “Something about your rapid decline doesn’t make medical sense.”
Four hours later, Owen sat in Sarah’s private office. Hannah was asleep on the couch nearby, clutching a new teddy bear.
Sarah walked in, her face completely drained of color.
“Owen... I have the results.”
The Chapter 2 Cliffhanger: Sarah placed two documents on the desk.
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“First, the DNA test. Hannah is indeed Clara’s daughter. But that's not all. Owen... she is also biologically yours. Clara was pregnant when she left.”
Sarah’s hand shook as she pointed to the second paper. “But you need to look at this. Your bloodwork. You are not dying of natural heart failure, Owen. Someone has been systematically poisoning you with digitalis toxicity for the last six months. And the primary ingredient is in the medication Dr. Harris prescribed to you.”
