In the Ford mansion, Guinevere sat quietly, holding the report in her hands. She turned each page slowly, scrutinizing every word. It was almost too unbelievable to accept. The findings were clear: they were two different people. But how could that be? It was the outcome she had secretly hoped for, but the idea still felt so outlandish.
Her mind raced as she processed the information in front of her. Despite the overwhelming evidence, the reality was almost too surreal to grasp. But it was all laid out in black and white—Ella Steele was indeed someone else, not Stella Sealey.
A sigh of relief escaped Guinevere’s lips. Thank goodness. As long as she wasn’t Stella, Ella posed no threat. She was just a woman who looked like Stella. Nothing to be worried about.
“What are you doing?”
Guinevere’s heart skipped a beat. Weston appeared out of nowhere, his voice cutting through the stillness of the room. She quickly composed herself, suppressing the rush of emotions inside her. “Nothing,” she replied smoothly, standing up and pretending to tidy up her desk. “I was just reading my scripts.”
Weston wasn’t usually interested in her work, but today, he seemed oddly curious as he approached her. Guinevere’s body tensed, and in a quick motion, she hid the report under a stack of papers. Weston, however, was already standing behind her.
“Has the filming started?” he asked.
Guinevere nodded, trying to sound as casual as possible. “The investors and producers are discussing the script. I figured I might as well do some preparations since I don’t have much else to do.”
Guinevere had built a solid reputation in the entertainment industry, and it wasn’t by accident. Weston didn’t respond, but his gaze shifted from her face to the stack of papers on her desk. His attention lingered for a moment before he finally spoke.
“Zack’s awake,” he said, his tone neutral, before turning and walking out of the room.
Guinevere’s expression darkened. She sat in silence for a moment, before following him out. But before closing the door behind her, she glanced at the report once more.
Downstairs in the living room, Zack’s cries echoed through the mansion. The poor child had probably caught a cold the previous night, and no matter what the nanny tried, his temperature remained high, and he wouldn’t stop crying. Even Wendy was losing sleep over it, pacing around with Zack in her arms.
“You two!” Wendy snapped when she saw Weston and Guinevere entering. “Your son has been crying all night, and you’ve done absolutely nothing! How could you be so calm? Have you forgotten that you’re his parents?”
A wave of shame and regret washed over Guinevere’s face.
“Here,” she said quickly, moving towards Wendy to take the child from her. But as soon as Wendy handed Zack over to her, the child began crying even louder, as though he was unwilling to leave her arms. Guinevere felt a twinge of embarrassment. What was she supposed to do now?
Seeing her struggle, Wendy sighed in frustration. “Give him to me!” she said, reaching out. The moment Zack was back in Wendy’s arms, his wails began to subside, and within moments, he stopped crying entirely.
Guinevere could do nothing but watch them in silence, her mind swirling with a mix of emotions. “Did you get the doctor?” Weston asked, his voice calm as he walked over to Wendy.
“Of course I did!” Wendy replied, her tone sharp. “The doctor says he’s caught a cold. Kids are like this when they’re sick, so there’s nothing to worry about.”
Weston nodded, his expression unreadable, and said no more. As Zack’s crying ceased, Wendy quickly handed him to Weston.
“Don’t you want to try?” she asked.
Weston, who rarely carried Zack, seemed reluctant. Though he saw the boy often, he kept a distance, never fully engaging with him emotionally.
The nanny, observing the situation, commented lightly, “Would you look at that! He stopped crying the minute he’s in his father’s arms! He really does look a lot like Mr. Ford, doesn’t he?”
Those words hit Guinevere right in the chest, and she couldn’t help but feel a spark of pride and satisfaction. It was exactly what she wanted to hear.
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