Liz walked out of the grand building like a shadow of herself.
The high heels clicked on marble, but her mind was silent.
No thoughts. Just that child's face. That miniature version of herself.
"It worked."
Maria's words rang in her head like a courtroom gavel.
All this time...
All those years...
She had a daughter.
And she–the real mother, the origin of that child's DNA–had been living as if nothing happened.
Like that child didn't exist.
Like she never mattered.
She got into the waiting car like a robot. Her assistant, Mark, looked up from his tablet.
"How did it go, ma'am?"
Liz said nothing. Just stared ahead.
Mark noticed her trembling hand and shut the tablet slowly. "Dr. Runbert?"
She finally spoke. "Take me home."
That night, she didn't sleep.
She sat on her hotel room floor, barefoot, a glass of untouched wine on the side table.
Her laptop was open.
A paused video interview of Maria stared back at her.
Maria looked so polished. So powerful. So untouchable.
They called her "the mother of modern fashion."
A visionary.
A humanitarian.
A perfect mother if she has a child.
The comments were endless praise.
Liz scrolled down, the bitterness in her chest growing.
| "She's such an inspiration." |
| "Her story motivates me everyday." |
| "I wish I could be like her." |
Liz slammed the laptop shut.
"She took everything..." she whispered.
Memories came flooding back.
The university days.
The parties.
The manipulation.
The moment she destroyed Maria's life–because she could.
She remembered laughing after the lie, thinking Maria would crawl, beg, and disappear. And she did.
Except now, she'd come back stronger.
Stronger than Liz ever imagined.
But the child... the child was real.
And if Maria was to be believed–hers.
"She named her Lila," Mark had said when briefing her.
The rage curled in her belly like a storm.
She needed to see the girl again.
She needed answers.
She needed control back.
But this time, it had to be subtle.
Soft. Strategic. Patient.
Just like Maria had played the world.
She picked up her phone and called Mark.
"Schedule a few talks in the city. Extend my stay for a few months."
"Yes, ma'am."
"And Mark?" Her voice turned cold.
"Get everything you can on that child. Her school. Her hobbies. Her daily schedule. Everything. And don't leave a trace."
There was silence.
"Yes, ma'am."
Liz hung up and leaned back in her chair.
"Let's see what happens when your perfect little life starts to shake," she murmured.
Then smiled.
A familiar, dangerous smile.
The game had just begun.