The Billionaire's Forgotten Daughter

Chapter Four

When they reached the peak, Julian turned to her, his expression grave. “I've delved deeper into some things on my own,” he started, drawing a creased sheet of paper from his coat. “I didn't want you to worry, but I uncovered something about Gabriel Stone.”

Lia’s heartbeat quickened at the mention of her father's name. “What did you find?”

Julian spread the paper and offered it to her. “I came across this in old files. It's a report about your mother. Note the date.”

Lia accepted the paper, her eyes scanning the faded print. Her mother’s name leaped out, and she read the date: June 15, 1995—the day Lia was born.

“Why would there be an article concerning my mother on the day I arrived?" she questioned, puzzled.

“Keep reading,” Julian urged, his tone taut.

Lia continued, her eyes widening as she read the headline: *"Heir to Stone Empire Born Out of Wedlock: Secret Love Child of Gabriel Stone Revealed."* The article went on to describe a scandal involving her mother and Gabriel, a covert affair that had been covered up by both families.

“They tried to bury it,” Julian explained, “but someone must have known. Someone wanted this information concealed for a reason.”

Lia felt a wave of nausea wash over her. “But why? Why would they keep this from me? From her?”

“I don't know,” Julian admitted, “but there's more to the story. I think... I think your mother was in danger, Lia. And I believe she knew it.”

A chill ran down her spine. “What are you implying?”

Julian hesitated, then took a deep breath. “I think your mother didn't just get in an accident. I believe someone wanted her gone.”

Her breath caught in her throat as the words left his lips. "Murdered?" she repeated faintly, leaning against the rough stone wall for support. Julian nodded slowly, his expression grave. "Whoever did it may still be out there, hunting for loose ends."

Lia's mind reeled with horrifying possibilities. Everything she thought she knew had been built on lies. Before she could process it fully, a crash echoed up from below, followed by footsteps pounding nearer. Julian grabbed her arm, eyes wide. "We have to go, now," he hissed, pulling her towards the stairs.

But it was too late. The footsteps were almost upon them. Trapped at the top of the lighthouse with no escape, Lia clutched Julian's arm, heart pounding. "What do we do?" she whispered desperately. He glanced around swiftly, mind racing. "Hide," he decided, steering her into a shadowy nook. "And pray they don't find us."

Crouched in the gloom, Lia strained to control her panicked breathing as the intruder's footsteps drew closer. Every nerve was on high alert. She gripped the crumpled letter for comfort, its guarded secrets now a tether to her lost identity. A violent flash of lightning split the sky, briefly illuminating the lantern room. In the flickering shadows, Lia waited fixedly for whoever—or whatever—might appear in the doorway.

Just as suddenly, the room was plunged into inky black once more. Lia held her breath, every muscle tensed, hardly daring to hope they still remained undiscovered.

In the darkness, every sound seemed amplified—the creak of the old lighthouse, the relentless pounding of the storm outside, and the approaching footsteps which seemed to echo ominously down the long corridor. Lia gripped Julian's arm even tighter, her nails digging into his skin in her panic, as fear threatened to consume her. Julian pressed a finger forcefully to his lips, hissing at her to stay deathly silent.

The footsteps halted abruptly right outside the heavy wooden door. For a moment, there was nothing but the howling wind and the crashing waves far below them as they twisted and turned violently in the raging sea. Then, with an agonizing shriek, the door slowly swung open inch by painful inch, the rusty hinges crying out in protest. Lia strained her eyes desperately through the inky blackness, trying to discern any shapes or silhouettes that might give away the identity of the person who had followed them here. She could barely make out a tall, shadowy figure lurking motionless on the threshold, barely visible in the faint wisps of light filtering through the cracked and battered windowpane.