Chapter 5
1117 Words
The atmosphere inside the luxury suite at the Savoy Hotel, London, felt suffocating to Damian Xavier. Although the room was spacious with a direct view of the River Thames, Damian felt as if the walls were slowly closing in on him. He had loosened his tie, the top buttons of his shirt were undone, and the glass of neat whiskey in his hand was nearly empty.
A knock at the door was followed by Mark entering, carrying a file.
"Sir, I have gathered the initial data regarding Sheina Blake as you requested."
Damian immediately set his glass down and snatched the file. "Tell me she’s lying. Tell me she is Camila Wilson."
Mark took a long breath. "Administratively, Sir... Sheina Blake is a different person. Her citizenship data shows she was born in a small village called Chipping Campden, England. She has a birth certificate, a record of attending primary school there, and even notes that she lived in an orphanage after her parents died in an accident when she was ten years old."
Damian flipped through the pages of the file roughly. His eyes widened when he saw a photo of a teenage Sheina who looked slightly different. Her hair was blonder, and her face was rounder.
"This... this could be forged," he said, his hands trembling.
"Julian Thorne has very extensive influence, Sir," Mark warned cautiously. "He is one of the most influential art curators in Europe. If he wanted to create a new identity for someone, he has the resources to do it very meticulously. However, there is one interesting thing."
Damian turned sharply. "What?"
"The data regarding her husband. Thomas Blake. He is indeed registered as a commercial sailor. There is a record of his marriage to Sheina in a small church on the coast of Cornwall five years ago. Thomas Blake was reported missing at sea while serving in the Indian Ocean only six months after their marriage. The problem is..." Mark paused for a moment, "there are almost no photos of Thomas Blake remaining. All the physical documents in their old coastal home were destroyed in a fire incident a year after Thomas was declared missing."
Damian gripped the edge of the teak table. "Too clean. Everything burned? A husband missing without a single trace of a photo? This is a scripted scenario, Mark!"
Damian stood up and began pacing the room. "Camila had no one when I threw her out. She had no money, no identity. How could she have met Julian Thorne? How could she have made it to England?"
"Remember, Sir, that five years ago the blizzard was extremely severe. The police found the body of a woman under the Brooklyn Bridge with a necklace bearing the initials 'C.W' around her neck. You identified that necklace yourself, even though the body was difficult to recognize due to hypothermia and early decomposition."
Hearing that, the guilt he had suppressed all this time surged back. Damian closed his eyes. He remembered how cold that necklace felt when he held it in the autopsy room. He remembered how cowardly he had been back then, unable to look at the poor victim’s face any longer, and immediately agreeing with the police report just so his suffering would end.
"I made a grave mistake, Mark. I threw her out when she might have been carrying my child," Damian’s voice weakened, filled with profound regret.
Mark shook his head slowly. "There were never any medical records of Mrs. Camila’s pregnancy at the Xavier-affiliated hospitals. And as far as I remember, Madam never told anyone she was expecting."
"She didn't tell me because I didn't give her a chance to speak, Mark," Damian whispered hoarsely. "I was too busy worshipping the fake evidence my mother presented until I was deaf to her voice."
Damian looked back at the photo of Leo in the file. That boy... the resemblance couldn't be a mere coincidence.
"Mark, arrange a meeting with Julian Thorne. Officially. Tell him I want to buy Sheina Blake’s entire collection for the Xavier Foundation in New York. I want to give him an offer he can’t refuse."
"But Sir, Ms. Blake seems to hate you intensely. She might not sell a single brushstroke if she knows it’s for you."
Damian gave a thin, bitter smile. "That’s why I need Julian. Everyone has a price, Mark. If not money, then power. I will drag them out of their hiding hole."
Damian paused, his eyes flashing sharply. "And one more thing. I don't care how neatly Julian hid Thomas Blake’s past. Find out where that church in Cornwall is, where they were said to be married. I want to speak directly to the priest who married them. If that marriage is fake, then Sheina Blake’s entire identity is one big lie."
"Very well, Sir." As usual, Mark was always obedient. He was the assistant Damian could always rely on.
Damian’s gaze returned to the hotel window. He finished the rest of the whiskey in his glass in one gulp.
Meanwhile, in a private garden on the outskirts of London.
Sheina stood under a large oak tree, watching Leo who was busy chasing Julian’s Labrador. Julian stood beside her, sipping his black coffee while staring at his phone, which kept vibrating.
"Damian has started moving," Julian said calmly. "His assistant just contacted the gallery. He wants to buy your entire exhibition collection at three times the market price."
Sheina wasn't surprised. "He’s trying to bait me. He thinks he can buy access to get close to me."
"Then what is your plan? If you refuse outright, he will only grow more suspicious. To him, a refusal is a confirmation that you have something to hide."
Sheina turned her face toward Julian. The winter wind blew her black bob, emphasizing her ice-cold gaze.
"Accept the offer, Julian. But with one condition."
Julian raised his eyebrows. "A condition?"
"Tell him that Sheina Blake will only sell the collection if the buyer himself comes to sign the contract privately in my closed studio. No bodyguards. No assistants."
Julian looked hesitant. "That’s dangerous, Sheina. Damian Xavier is not a man easily controlled when he feels he has a right to something."
"I know," Sheina replied flatly. "I want him to see me up close once more. I want him to smell this jasmine and go mad with doubt. I want him to touch the smooth skin of my arm and begin to question his own sanity."
Sheina clenched her fist inside her coat pocket.
"He wants proof? I will give him proof that Camila Wilson is truly dead and rotted away, until he himself begs for forgiveness at an empty grave."
- Writer
