Half an hour earlier, Katherine had gone downstairs for a glass of water when a sudden, piercing cry shattered the stillness of the house. It was Lilah's voice—sharp, panicked, unmistakably calling for help.

Within moments, the entire Warren family was thrown into chaos.

No one asked Katherine questions. No one sought proof. Without hesitation, every accusation landed squarely on Katherine's shoulders, each word sharper than the last, each insult delivered with practiced certainty.

Katherine stood there in silence, her fingers curling slowly at her side. If she was destined to leave this house, then she would leave—but she would not allow her name to be dragged through the mud on her way out.

Roger's brow furrowed as irritation crept in.

Before he could speak, Ariella's voice cut through the room, cold and indignant. "That's enough. Are you truly shameless enough to twist the truth now? Are you seriously implying that Lilah would throw herself down the stairs just to frame you?"

Lilah buried her face deeper into Ariella's embrace, her shoulders shaking as she sobbed. "I may not have grown up with the finest education like you," she said weakly, her voice trembling, "but I still have my dignity… and my limits. Please stop humiliating me, Katherine."

As she cried, she cast Katherine a fleeting sideways glance—one filled not with pain, but with unmistakable provocation. In Lilah's mind, the outcome was already sealed. No one would believe Katherine now.

Yet Katherine's expression remained eerily calm. There was no panic. No anger. Only a faint trace of mockery lingering in her eyes, as though every step of this farce had unfolded exactly as she had anticipated.

That subtle composure sent a ripple of unease through Lilah's heart.

Just then, she perceived a sound. The unmistakable thud of someone moving down the stairs.

And then, Lilah heard her own voice echoing through the room. "Dad—Mom—help me! My leg…"

Her breath hitched. She snapped her head up.

At some point, unnoticed by anyone, the projector in the living room had been switched on. The massive screen on the wall flickered to life, displaying footage from the hallway's security camera. Lilah appeared on the stairs, walking normally. Then she paused before lying down, clutching her leg and crying out in exaggerated agony.

The color drained from Lilah's face.

She froze, her pupils shrinking in disbelief. There was surveillance in the house? And no one had told her?

Roger and Ariella stared at the screen, utterly stunned.

The truth was undeniable. Lilah's fall had been nothing more than a meticulously staged performance.

From the moment Lilah's cry rang out, Katherine had already foreseen how this would unfold. That was why she had prepared in advance. She knew all too well what kind of person Lilah was—someone who would never stop until she had pushed others into a corner with no escape.

So Katherine had chosen to strike once… and strike decisively.

Faced with irrefutable evidence, Lilah swallowed the surge of panic clawing at her chest. Her fingers tightened as she forced her voice to tremble. "I'm sorry, Mom… Dad…" she whispered. "I was just afraid. Afraid you'd only love Katherine because she's been with you for so many years. I just… I wanted to test you."

Roger's stern expression wavered. When he thought of all the hardships his biological daughter had endured over the years, a trace of pity softened his gaze. "Why would you do something like this?" he sighed. "Luckily, Katherine is generous enough not to hold it against you."

"I'm not." Katherine's voice cut through the air, cold and unyielding. The faint smile on her lips carried no warmth.

Any patience she had once possessed had long since been exhausted.

Resentment flickered in Lilah's eyes. She straightened, slipping out of Ariella's arms, her expression shifting seamlessly into one of wounded resolve.

"I've wronged Katherine," she said firmly. "I'll pack my things and leave the Warren Estate immediately. Mom, Dad—you won't ever have to worry about me again. I only hope Katherine can forgive me. That's all that matters."

Those words ignited Ariella's fury. She turned sharply toward Katherine, eyes blazing. "Do you really have to be so unforgiving just because you're in the right? If you hadn't stolen Lilah's place in this family, would she ever have been so anxious as to go to such extremes?"

Katherine felt nothing but exhaustion. She had seen this play too many times.

A cold sneer curved her lips. "I said I'm leaving—and I meant it. You don't need to keep up this performance or shove everything onto me. I have no interest in the Warren family's inheritance… or in fighting over the worthless relics you call a legacy."

With that, she turned and walked upstairs. The room fell into a suffocating silence.

Lilah's, Ariella's, and Roger's expressions darkened simultaneously.

Lilah clenched her teeth, fury burning behind her eyes.

She couldn't believe it. Katherine dared to act so aloof—so superior—here of all places. In her mind, this fake daughter should have been kneeling, crying, begging for forgiveness… pleading to be allowed to stay.

Moments later, Katherine returned. In her hand was a small, plain canvas bag. Nothing more.

Roger and Ariella were visibly taken aback.

That was all she had? So little? They exchanged glances, convinced she was merely putting on a show—waiting for them to stop her, to ask her to stay. But they would never tolerate such arrogance from someone who wasn't even their biological child.

So they watched in cold silence.

As Katherine walked toward the door, Lilah felt a wave of indescribable satisfaction bloom in her chest.

Still, she didn't believe for a second that Katherine would leave so easily. Surely… there had to be something significant hidden inside that bag.

Lilah's lips curved into a faint, deliberate smile. "You're really leaving with just that?" she asked lightly. "Or are you hoping Mom and Dad will pity you if you look miserable enough, Katherine?"

Before Katherine could react, Lilah reached out and yanked the canvas bag from her hand.

The strap slipped loose. Its contents spilled across the marble floor—simple necessities, nothing extravagant.

Yet among them, something gleamed. A small jewelry box rolled aside, its lid falling open, revealing a bracelet studded with deep-blue diamonds that caught the light in a sudden, dazzling flare.

All eyes were drawn to it. Lilah's breath hitched.

She recognized it instantly. It was the debut piece of Katrine, the legendary jewelry designer—a creation once valued at five million dollars, now rumored to be worth twice that.

Lilah had admired it countless times in glossy magazines, never imagining she would see it here… much less in Katherine's possession.

Her eyes lit up with undisguised desire. "Katherine, this is a Katrine original," Lilah exclaimed, her voice sharp with accusation. "It's worth ten million dollars! How could you just take it without saying a word?"

Katherine bent down calmly and picked up the bracelet.

Resting in her slender palm, the diamonds shimmered softly, their light shifting with every slight movement.

Around her, greed flickered unmistakably in the Warren couple's eyes.

They both knew the bracelet had once belonged to Hazel Warren, Roger's mother. She had given it to Katherine shortly before her death. But none of them had ever known its true value.

Ariella's expression darkened at once. "Exactly. What right do you have to take it? You're not even our biological daughter. That bracelet belongs to Hazel's real granddaughter. Give it to Lilah—now."

Roger's face hardened as well. He had no intention of letting a fortune walk out the door with someone he no longer acknowledged as family. "Katherine, you shouldn't take that bracelet with you," he said sternly.

For the first time, Katherine felt genuine disbelief—not at their greed, but at the depth of their shamelessness.

She lifted her gaze, her voice icy. "And what makes you think it was Grandma who gave me the bracelet?"

The bracelet had never been a purchase. It had been a creation.

Hazel was the only person in the Warren family who had ever treated Katherine with genuine kindness. She had been her shelter, her warmth, her quiet refuge in a cold household. Inspired by that bond, Katherine had designed the bracelet herself, naming it "Guardian of Stars."

After Hazel's passing, it had naturally returned to its creator.

As Katherine spoke, Lilah's face stiffened.

She quickly lowered her gaze, her voice softening into something fragile. "If you really don't want to give it back, I won't force you. I just… regret that I came back too late. I didn't even get to see Grandma."

Katherine paused. Then she looked straight at Lilah. "When did Grandma pass away?"

The question landed like a blade. Lilah froze, her mind blank. She didn't know.

Roger and Ariella stiffened as well.

They remembered. Hazel had died five years ago—long after Katrine had already risen to fame.

Back then, the Warren family's business was barely surviving. Even possessing a million dollars would have been unthinkable, let alone five.

That meant one thing. Hazel could never have bought that bracelet.

Still, Lilah refused to concede. Her voice rose sharply, almost desperate. "Even if it wasn't Grandma who bought the bracelet, it was still paid for by the Warren family!"

As soon as the words left her mouth, she noticed the strange expressions on her parents' and Katherine's faces.

Katherine let out a quiet, humorless laugh. "I can't believe I wasted my breath arguing with someone this foolish." Without another glance, she turned and walked out of the house.

Lilah instinctively moved to follow her, but Roger stopped her with a hand.

"There's no point," he said. "That bracelet can't be real."

They were convinced the bracelet had to be fake. Otherwise, how could Katherine possibly own something so valuable?

Ariella scoffed, curling her lip in disdain. "She probably bought a cheap imitation to show off. Don't worry, sweetheart. I'll buy you plenty of real jewelry."

Lilah nodded, though disappointment lingered in her eyes.

The bracelet had looked real—too real.

Still, she reassured herself. She was the only daughter of the Warren couple now. Anything she wanted would eventually be hers.

Just then, a thunderous roar shook the air. The three of them rushed to the window as a line of helicopters swept across the sky, their engines deafening. "Who could be that extravagant?" Ariella murmured in disbelief.

Outside, Katherine was already walking down the hillside, her small bag slung over one shoulder, when the roaring sound made her stop.

The helicopters were heading straight toward her.

Powerful gusts of wind whipped through the grass as they descended, landing smoothly nearby. Katherine instinctively closed her eyes.

When she opened them again, a man had stepped out of one of the helicopters.

He was dressed in a perfectly tailored suit, his presence commanding, unmistakably striking. With long strides, he approached her, a faint smile playing at his lips.

"You must be my little sister," he said smoothly. "You were waiting for me, weren't you?"

Katherine instinctively took a step back, her gaze sharpening as she studied the man standing before her.

For a brief moment, she wondered if exhaustion and emotional turmoil had finally blurred her senses. But the roaring helicopters behind him, the steady gaze in his eyes, and the undeniable weight of his presence told her this was no illusion.

There was no one else around, which meant… the man was truly speaking to her.

With a polite yet guarded tone, Katherine replied, "I think you've mistaken me for someone else."

She had been told that her biological parents were fishermen from Cloud Village—people who struggled daily against the sea just to survive. The Warrens had spoken of them with thinly veiled disdain, claiming they were so destitute they could barely keep themselves alive.

Yet nothing about the man before her aligned with that narrative. The fabric of his suit was clearly custom-made. A limited-edition watch glinted faintly on his wrist.

Behind him, a fleet of Ecrance's latest military-grade helicopters stood poised, ready to be deployed in combat mode if the need arose.

Nothing about this scene aligned with the life she had been told was hers.

The man, named Callum Smith, offered a gentle smile as he extended a paternity test report to her. "I haven't mistaken you. Your name is Katherine Warren. And you are my sister."

Katherine felt herself freeze, her gaze dropping to the report in her hands.

The document laid bare the undeniable truth: a staggering 99.99% genetic match with Laurence Smith, confirming their bond as father and daughter.

Laurence Smith… The name echoed in her mind, stirring a sense of familiarity.

Callum, his voice softening, continued, "When our mother was pregnant with you, she traveled to Ontbert for a short vacation. During that trip, she suffered an accident and went into premature labor. You were born early and immediately taken into neonatal care. But when our family arrived at the hospital, you were already gone. We never stopped looking for you..."

The Smith family had only recently learned of the Warren couple's discovery of their real daughter, and the coincidence of her being lost in the very location where Katherine had gone missing was not lost on them.

Callum's voice grew thick with emotion. "When we saw your photograph, we knew it was you. You bear an uncanny resemblance to our mother in her youth."

The truth unraveled like a tragic tapestry: the fishing couple in Cloud Village had lost their own child at birth. Broken by grief, they had taken advantage of a moment of negligence and stolen Katherine away.

On the very same day, a fire broke out at the hospital. Amid the chaos, a nurse mistakenly switched the identification tags of Katherine and another infant, Lilah, resulting in both babies being placed with the wrong families.

Everything aligned at last. Katherine had been stolen first—taken from her real family. Then, through human error and disaster, fate had sealed the mistake.

Katherine stood momentarily entranced by the revelation. Her true family, the Smiths, belonged to one of Vroiksey's four wealthiest and most powerful clans, a dynasty so formidable that even a century of effort wouldn't allow the Warrens to catch up. It felt unreal.

Steeling herself, Katherine lifted her gaze slowly, her eyes drifting once more toward the helicopters waiting behind Callum.

Had he really brought all this… just for her?

For the first time in her life, she felt the unsettling weight of being wanted.

Love—unconditional love—was something she had never known. In the Warren household, only Hazel had shown her warmth. Roger and Ariella had treated her with indifference at best, resentment at worst, as though her existence were an inconvenience. Perhaps, without any of them realizing it, it was the silent truth of their bloodless relation at play.

Unable to suppress her curiosity, she inquired, "Did you really need this many helicopters just to take me home?"

Callum raised an eyebrow, a trace of dry humor flickering in his eyes. "I bought them just before this trip. You'll be their first passenger."

Katherine fell silent for a heartbeat, then nodded faintly. "So… you just happened to pass by and decided to pick me up?"

"Not quite!" Callum interjected swiftly, concern etching his features as he sensed Katherine's doubt. "I received a message from Mom and Dad instructing me to come and bring you back. I bought these helicopters specifically for the journey, and I have gifts for the Warrens as well."

Those "gifts" were priceless antiques, rare gems, and investment shares worth over a billion dollars. The Smith family even intended to extend an invitation to the Warrens for a formal gathering in Vroiksey, a grand gesture of gratitude.

At the mention of the Warrens, Katherine's smile faded.

They didn't deserve any of it.

"They're not home. Let's just go," she said, her voice devoid of warmth.

Callum's expression turned puzzled as he glanced toward the hillside villa, a shadow of doubt creeping into his mind regarding the unfortunate timing of it all.

But Katherine had already turned away, walking decisively toward the nearest helicopter.

Just as she reached the door, she stopped.

Someone was inside.

Through the tinted window, she glimpsed a figure seated lazily in the cabin. Dim amber lights illuminated his sculpted features. His long legs occupied most of the space, and his relaxed posture exuded an effortless, aristocratic grace.

Katherine's breath caught. Stefan White. What was he doing here?