Chapter 203 Interfering with My Private Life
Beata's expression froze. "Who told you that?"
I pressed my lips together. "Beata, please don’t keep things from me. I came to you because I’m certain now. I’ve discovered that I am from the Harris family in Maple Valley.”
"The Harris family? Your biological father is Mr. Harris?" Beata’s voice, though weak, picked up an excited fervor. “Did they find you? How have they treated you?”
Her reaction only heightened my suspicions that she knew more than she had let on.
“How did I end up with the Roystons back then?” I asked quickly.
Beata’s eyes softened with pity as she gazed at me. “Your parents were in mourning for their lost daughter. The doctors had said your mother could not bear any more children. On a business trip to Maple Valley, they found you and brought you home.”
I felt a knot tighten in my stomach. “And what then? The Harris family believes I was kidnapped all those years ago—was I truly kidnapped?”
Beata's expression was solemn. "It happened while your parents were socializing in Maple Valley. Your dad went to the car to retrieve some wine. As he opened the door, you crawled in, begging him to save you. You were covered in wounds. Your father couldn’t turn his back on you.”
Beata continued, “As soon as he decided to help you, people began frantically searching for you. He hid you in the car, locked the doors, and returned to the restaurant as if nothing had happened. You were very clever, lying quietly under a blanket on the back seat. The search party even came to the restaurant but found nothing. Your parents heard them mention Mrs. Harris.”
"Mrs. Harris?" The name sent a shiver down my spine. So the ‘kidnapping’ and ‘loss’ were orchestrated by Skylar?
Beata nodded. "Yes, we always assumed the Harris family were your real parents' adversaries. Those searchers were discreet and said very little before continuing elsewhere. Afraid for your safety, your parents whisked you off to Jacquar for treatment. Initially, they planned to send you to an orphanage but couldn’t bear the thought. They erased all records of the real Hope’s death, moved, and had you take her place.”
My thoughts swirled chaotically. Touching the necklace, I ventured, “So this necklace was with me the whole time?”
"Yes." Beata replied, her brow furrowed with confusion. “Your dad discovered the name ‘Ortiz’ engraved under the necklace with a magnifying glass.”
"Ortiz?"I repeated, feeling the tiny indentation as if confirming a long-ignored truth.
The reality struck me—I wasn't tied to the Harris family as I had thought. Doubts seeped into my mind about everything I had believed.
Beata sighed. “That’s all I know.”
I steadied my breath. “Thank you, Beata.”
This revelation only added layers to my suspicions.
Beata shook her head and gently tucked the necklace back into my collar. “As long as you don’t hold it against me, I’m at peace. I never intended to conceal your past. Your parents made me promise before their passing, fearing that knowing your true background would bring you harm. If I weren't in this grave condition, I wouldn't have given you the necklace.”
"I understand. How could I blame you?" I murmured, softening my tone as I poured a cup of water, inserted a straw, and handed it to Beata. "Try to drink some water."
That evening, after Beata had fallen asleep, Christopher and I left the hospital together. My plan was to head home, take a quick shower, and return to keep vigil. The doctors had warned that Beata could pass away at any moment.
As we walked, I checked on Beata's medical expenses. Christopher had spent hundreds of thousands of dollars on newly developed drugs, international treatments, and surgeries performed by top foreign experts. It wasn’t just a matter of money; it also required the right connections. Without Christopher, Beata likely wouldn’t have survived this long.
Christopher never mentioned it, but the weight of his actions was evident.
I sat in the back seat, looking at him. "Christopher, thank you for everything you've done for my aunt. I'll transfer the money to you now."
The proceeds from selling the house had already been deposited into my account, enough to cover the expenses.
Christopher fixed his gaze on me. "There's no need for us to be so precise about money."
I shook my head, refusing. "No."
We were divorced; I had no right to continue using his money.
He sighed, "Are you trying to draw a clear line between us now?"
"Yes." Just as I opened my phone, it started ringing. It was Jerry.
Christopher glanced at the screen, anger flickering in his eyes. "You two just parted ways this afternoon, and he's already calling?"
I spoke firmly, "Christopher, I'm grateful for what you've done for my aunt, but that doesn't give you the right to interfere in my personal life! Don't make me remind you again that we're already divorced."
Christopher snatched the phone, hung up the call, and leaned in, pinning me against the leather seat. His voice was cold. "If you insist on bringing up the divorce, then I don’t mind telling you..."
Another urgent phone ring interrupted him.
This time, it was the hospital.
Christopher relaxed his grip just enough for me to answer.
"Mrs. Valence, Beata has passed away."
My mind went blank.
Even though I had mentally prepared for this moment, it still felt abrupt, like a punch to the gut. I was stunned, unable to react. Despite everything I had learned about my background in the past few days—that Beata and I weren’t related by blood, and I knew who my real family was—Beata was still my family in my heart.
Christopher took the phone from my hand, responded to the nurse, and then instructed the driver, "Turn around and go back to the hospital."
The next few days were a blur. Beata’s funeral was organized with Christopher and Elissa’s help.
The last time I'd been at the cemetery, it was for Bentley; now it was for Beata. In less than six months, it felt like my world was continually crumbling.
Fortunately, ElevateJoy was bustling. The spring collection released just before the holiday had gained unexpected traction; a celebrity wore one of our pieces on a variety show, causing it to sell out instantly. Other styles were also flying off the shelves.
ElevateJoy had become an instant hit.
I chose not to inform Jerry about Beata’s passing, not wanting to distract him. I focused on ensuring everything was in order so I could return to Maple Valley swiftly.
The night before my departure, while I was packing at home, there was a knock on the door. Upon opening it, I saw Christopher standing there, dressed in a loose sweatshirt and casual pants. Initially, I thought it was Jerry. "Why are you..."
I stopped mid-sentence, realizing it was Christopher. His chiseled face brought a surge of mixed emotions. I gripped the door handle tightly. "Christopher, you don’t have to do this."
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