The Billionaire's Rental Wife Is A Hot Shot

A heavy silence settled over the room, thick and suffocating. Evelyn’s heart pounded against her ribs, each beat sending a sharp, painful echo through her body. Her vision swam with dizziness, the weight of Damien’s revelation crashing down on her. She swayed, but Zevian’s strong grip on her shoulder kept her anchored, though her nails bit into his shirt as if she needed to grasp something real.

"This... this has to be a joke!" Avery’s voice shook, her own disbelief mirrored in her wide eyes. She grabbed the phone from Damien, zooming in on the DNA report. Her breath hitched when she saw the glaring truth—zero percent match. William’s DNA was a complete mismatch with Evelyn’s, just like Annabelle, who was a total stranger, unlike Evelyn.

"Get some water," Zevian instructed sharply, his voice cracking through the silence. He eased Evelyn down onto the brown leather couch, pressing a button to ignite the heater and the fireplace. The cellar’s air had grown cold, but nothing compared to the chill gripping Evelyn’s bones.

Avery’s hands trembled as she followed Damien to the counter, her frustration bubbling over. "This has to be a mistake," she muttered, snatching a bottle of water left behind by Agatha. "Your team must’ve made a blunder!"

"I wish they had," Damien muttered darkly. His usually calm demeanor was shaken, tension tightening his jaw. For once, he found himself hoping his lab had made a mistake, his brilliant scientists hired from all over the world turned incompetent but deep down, he knew better.

The truth got its own twisted ending and he thought on how to blend it in their plan, on how to use it for Sophia’s downfall.

Evelyn sat numbly, her grip on Zevian tightening. His hand moved to rub her back, the warmth of his touch trying to penetrate the icy shock consuming her. But the comfort did little to ease the storm raging inside her. Not part of the family! The words echoed in her mind, relentless and unforgiving.

Her father, no, William Wright, his hateful words played over and over like a broken record.

"I am still keeping you because of Gracie’s wish. Otherwise, you’d be out on the streets.

He’d said it so often, that it ran in her mind like a broken record, blurry but daunting. Was that why he despised her so much because she was not his blood? And now it made sense. Any man would loathe an outsider, even if it is a child who had been the reason for his beloved wife’s death.

Evelyn’s stomach churned with nausea. She could understand now, in a twisted way, Sophia’s desire to make Elias the sole heir to the Wright fortune. But what left her reeling was why her grandmother had wanted her to take over in the first place. Had she not known this devastating truth?

"Here, drink this." Zevian’s voice broke through her daze. He lifted the bottle to her lips, gently coaxing her to take a sip. She obeyed, though the water did little to quell the storm inside her. Damien had settled beside Zevian, his gaze flickering with concern, while Avery sat close to Evelyn, still lost and unable to digest the revelation.

Evelyn’s eyes drifted back to the phone in Avery’s hand. She picked it up and scanned the results again, hoping—praying—that she had misread them. But the numbers, the cold, hard percentages, slapped her with a cruel finality. Zero! She was not William’s daughter. She wasn’t even a Wright at all.

"Are you sure the samples were his?" Damien asked, desperate to find some flaw in the process, some mistake that could undo this horrible truth.

"We collected them ourselves, Damien," Avery replied, her voice was sharp with frustration. "Right after his heart attack when he was unconscious. Darah, the maid, helped us. There’s no way we made a mistake."

Evelyn’s heart twisted painfully at their conversation. The more they spoke, the more the reality solidified. There was no error, no mistake. She wasn’t their daughter. Not her dead mother’s precious baby. Not a Wright by blood. Just as Sophia had declared to the world, using Annabelle.

It felt as if a secret better left buried, was now fully unearthed. Her father—William—had kept it hidden, perhaps out of some twisted sense of obligation. But her stepmother had found the perfect way to expose it—cruelly, publicly, and without mercy.

Damien’s voice broke through the suffocating quiet. "What now?" His gaze shifted to Zevian, but Zevian remained silent, his eyes resting on Evelyn, waiting for her answer.

Avery moved closer, her hand rubbing Evelyn’s arm in quiet support. "What do you want to do, Evie?" she asked softly.

Evelyn closed her eyes, drawing a shaky breath. "Help me find my real parents." She asked, after a long, bitter silence. The way she spoke, clenched Zevian’s heart, her voice was barely above a whisper, laced with a mixture of pain and determination.

A heavy pause followed, thick with the weight of her words. Zevian’s hand stilled on her back, and Damien nodded grimly, understanding what this meant for her.

"Do you remember anyone who worked at the estate around the time you were born?" Damien asked, his voice soft but focused.

Evelyn furrowed her brow, thinking back to her childhood, to the faces that had faded with time. "There was an old woman... Mariam," she began slowly. "She worked for my grandmother. She was very close to her, but I heard she resigned right after I was born."

"Do you have a photo of her?" Damien pressed, leaning forward.

Evelyn nodded faintly. "I think so... Darah showed me once. It’s in my grandmother’s old closet. I’ll have Elias search for it."

"Send it to me when you find it," Damien said, rising from his seat. He glanced at Zevian, who gave him a subtle nod. Avery followed Damien, her face tight with worry but still searching for any clue they might have missed.

As they left them alone, Evelyn let out a soft, defeated sigh. "I just hope they’re still alive," she whispered, her voice fragile, as if it might shatter with the weight of her hope.

Zevian’s hand tightened around hers. "Let’s not get our hopes up too high," he said gently, his tone cautious but loving. He knew how much she had longed for paternal love, to be hugged, and talked properly by her father just once, and the last thing he wanted was to see her heart break again if this search ended in disappointment.

---

Meanwhile, in the Wright Mansion, a similar tension simmered in the drawing room. The Blake family had gathered to discuss about the scandalous pictures of Vincent and Annabelle from the hotel circulating wildly, tarnishing their reputations.

Edmund Blake gripped his cane, frustration etched into his lined face. "So, you refuse to agree to this marriage?" he asked, his voice hard as he looked at William, who appeared pale and worn, the remnants of his recent heart attack still visible in his demeanor.

Sophia’s grip on William’s arm tightened, her hand patting his trembling fingers soothingly. She turned her sharp gaze to Edmund. "Evelyn would be devastated if this marriage went through, Mr. Blake. Imagine her pain, knowing her dear sister is marrying her ex-fiancé, into the family that had tried to kill her."

Felicia Blake’s fingers dug into her purse, her face twisted in barely contained fury. "That’s not true! We never instigated Monu to target her!" she hissed under her breath, her anger directed at Sophia. No one believed them, their stocks only plummeting further under Zevian’s watchful eye.

"Considering how eager you were to marry her off to Nicholas," Edmund retorted, his voice laced with sarcasm, "I would have thought you no longer cared about your daughter’s feelings, Mrs. Wright."

Sophia smiled coldly, cursing the old man silently. She didn’t care about Evelyn anymore, quite sure that the bomb she had planned would have exploded by now, shattering the poor girl’s heart and thirst to take her down. But now Annabelle, her one-time pawn, had turned into a thorn in her way, and it was driving her mad.

"No shareholder would agree to it, Uncle Edmund" William finally spoke, his voice strained but firm. "I can’t afford another scandal. The company’s already in flames."

Edmund sighed heavily, resigned. Felicia, though relieved at the decision, kept her satisfaction hidden behind a tight smile. But Vincent and Annabelle, seated on the opposite side, were far less pleased.

Annabelle’s jaw clenched, her eyes narrowing in silent fury. She would not let her sweet mother win in this matter. But before she could speak, a sudden wave of nausea hit her hard. She bolted up, clutching her stomach as she stumbled toward the door, covering her mouth with trembling hands.

"Call the doctor!" William shouted, panic flooding his voice as he rushed after his daughter, leaving the room in stunned silence.

Elias’s eyes narrowed with suspicion, recalling how Annabelle had been sick from the couple of days. A gasp left his mouth and he muttered aloud, "No way... Is she pregnant?"