The Billionaire's Rental Wife Is A Hot Shot

The next day held a mixture of hope and apprehension for everyone While Annabelle’s pregnancy wreaked havoc on Sophia’s life, Evelyn was on her way to uncover the truth about her real parents—or so she believed.

Damien parked the car in a narrow alley, with John pulling up their car right behind him. They all stepped out onto the damp, grimy street, where the smell hit them immediately. Avery wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Are you sure it’s here?" she muttered, earning a sharp look from Damien and his assistant, who had worked their ass off tracking down this place.

Zevian squeezed Evelyn’s hand reassuringly. "I’m right here with you," he whispered, his voice steady despite the tension in the air.

Evelyn clung to his arm, her heart pounding as Damien’s assistant led them through the narrow, crowded street. Small, single-story houses lined the alley, and the buzz of the crowd mixed with the occasional bark of a stray dog or the oinking of a pig.

"Oh look, Damien! We found your twin!" Avery quipped, pointing at a large pig snuffling its way down the road.

Damien’s assistant snorted out loud, only to shut up when Damien shot him a glare. "That looks more like your husband from a past life," Damien retorted, his tone dry but tinged with a smirk.

Their banter brought a fleeting smile to Evelyn’s lips. Seeing the tension ease in her friend, Avery continued teasing Damien, pointing out a dog and claiming it must be one of his ancestors. The lighthearted exchange continued until they reached an old brick house at the end of the street, beside a small, cluttered bookstore.

Damien’s assistant stepped forward and greeted the middle-aged woman behind the counter. The woman quickly rose, her gaze darting to Evelyn as Griffin explained their visit from the night before.

"Yes, please, come inside!" Reema said, leading them through the store and into the house. The main door creaked as she opened it, revealing a small, worn-out living room. Griffin and John stayed outside to guard the entrance while the others filed in, settling on the tattered couch. Damien opted to stand, his presence looming protectively over the group.

Reema disappeared into a back room, where they heard her speaking in hushed tones to someone. The thick white curtains made it hard to see, but it was clear she was trying to coax someone out. Her voice grew louder, almost pleading.

"Madam wants to see me?" a frail voice squeaked from behind the curtains. It was rough, but there was an underlying vibrancy to it as if the person had suddenly found a reason to live on.

Evelyn’s grip on Zevian’s hand tightened, her anxiety growing with each passing second. Finally, Reema emerged, helping an elderly woman, likely in her late eighties, hobble into the room.

Mariam’s appearance was striking—her wrinkled face, short white hair, and sunken eyes spoke of a life long-lived, yet there was a youthful gleam in her eyes as she laid them on Evelyn.

"Oh, Madam Charlotte is here!" Mariam murmured, her voice filled with a childlike excitement. With Reema’s help, she bowed deeply before Evelyn. "I feel blessed to have you here, Madam."

"She has Alzheimer’s," Reema explained apologetically, holding her mother’s shoulder gently. "She thinks of you as your grandmother, Charlotte Wright."

Evelyn nodded, slipping into the role Mariam expected. "How are you, Mariam?" she asked, her voice soft but carrying the weight of the situation.

"As well as can be, thanks to you," Mariam responded, her smile warm, easing some of the tension in the room.

"I’m glad to hear that," Evelyn replied, pausing before adding, "I came to ask for your help, Mariam. I need to know about my granddaughter’s birth."

Mariam’s expression changed instantly, her face paling as she stumbled back, eyes wide with fear. Reema quickly caught her mother, alarmed by her reaction.

"I-I-I..." Mariam stammered, her voice trembling. Suddenly, she seemed to snap out of it, her demeanor shifting to one of suspicion. "Who are you? What are you doing in my house?" she demanded, her voice sharp and wary.

Damien’s eyes narrowed, his instincts telling him that something was off, but Mariam’s confusion seemed genuine as she backed away toward the kitchen. Avery’s eyes widened in surprise as the old woman returned, wielding a broom like a weapon, her gaze fixed on Damien with determination.

"Mom! They’re guests!" Reema intervened, stopping her mother just before she could hit Damien. "They’re not loan sharks, don’t worry. They’re not here for your son." She gently pried the broom from Mariam’s hands and, after a moment of soothing words, guided her back to her room.

"I’m so sorry about that," Reema apologized, bowing her head in embarrassment. Avery waved it off, though she couldn’t hide her disappointment at missing the sight of Damien getting a broom to the head.

Zevian turned to Reema, his voice calm but firm. "Do you know anything about it?"

Reema hesitated before nodding. "I do," she said quietly, causing Evelyn’s breath to catch in her throat. Reema excused herself, disappearing into her mother’s room again, and returned with an old, yellowed letter in her hands.

"This was sent by your grandmother just a month before her death," Reema explained, handing the letter to Evelyn. "It was then that my mother told me everything."

Evelyn immediately recognized the seal and the thick, script-like paper—something her grandmother often used for important letters. The date matched Reema’s account: just a month before her grandmother’s death when Evelyn had been only twelve years old.

"Please, tell me everything you know," Evelyn urged, clutching the letter tightly.

Reema took a deep breath and began, "William and Gracia had a beautiful daughter. She was just a year old when they lost her in a terrible accident. Gracia couldn’t handle the shock and suffered a mental breakdown. She refused to acknowledge the accident, insisting her daughter was still alive. She even began carrying a doll around, treating it like her child, bringing it to events and everywhere she went."

Evelyn’s heart clenched as she listened, tears welling in her eyes. She had heard about the accident from her mother, who always grew anxious when they traveled by car, clinging to Evelyn as if afraid she might lose her again.

"Charlotte, your grandmother, couldn’t bear to see Gracia in such a state. Against William’s will, she adopted you from an orphanage in a faraway town when you were one and a half years old. Since the accident was kept a secret from the public, they presented you as their real daughter, giving you the name Evelyn Wright, after the child they had lost."

Zevian tightened his grip on Evelyn’s shoulder, gently rubbing her arm as she shivered with the weight of the revelation. It all made sense now—why her father had never shown her the same love her mother did, why he had grown to resent her after Gracia’s death, loathing the sight of her.

Reema left to fetch a glass of water for Evelyn, who sat frozen, numb with shock. When she returned, she handed the glass to Avery, who helped Evelyn take a sip before Reema continued.

"Your grandmother loved you dearly," Reema said softly. "She knew your father might mistreat you because you weren’t his biological child, so she wrote a will before her death to protect you. She expressed her fears in the letter as well, asking my mother to keep an eye on you if possible."

Evelyn let out a shaky breath, her eyes fixed on the letter in her hands. So she had been an abandoned child all along? One both her real and adoptive families feel unworthy to be loved?

"My mother wanted to return and continue working for your family," Reema added, "but your father’s assistant... Now his wife, Sophia—refused to let her back in."

Zevian held Evelyn close, kissing the top of her head as she sat there, numb and cold. Avery thanked Reema, her voice gentle. "Thank you for sharing this with us."

Reema nodded, offering a small, sympathetic smile. "I know this is hard, Ms. Evelyn. But please remember, your mother and grandmother loved you. Gracia believed you were her real daughter, and I’m sure she would have loved you just the same, even if she had known the truth."

Would she? Evelyn wondered, her thoughts spiraling into a dark place. Her entire existence felt like a lie. First, she had resented her father for hating her right from six years, but now she resented herself for ever being born, for taking the place of a dead child, for taking away that kind woman’s life.

"Your grandmother would want you to be happy," Reema added, her tone comforting. "Please, live a happy life. It’s what she would have wanted."

Evelyn’s breath hitched, her body trembling as memories of her mother flooded back. The scene, the bullet shots, and Gracia’s tight embrace as she took the bullet for her, everything came flooding like a broken dam, cruel and suffocating. Zevian held her tightly, and Avery rubbed her back, but nothing seemed to ease the storm inside her.

"Thank you for your help," Damien said, ending the conversation. But just as he suggested they leave, Mariam suddenly emerged from her room.

"Gracia didn’t die!" Mariam declared, her voice clear and insistent. Everyone froze, confusion rippling through the group. She looked directly at Evelyn, her eyes wide with an almost manic intensity, and continued, "She didn’t die! She is alive, you need to find her!"