chapter 8

Damien barely slept. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the same scene: the private café, the birthday display, Michael Ashford standing beside Selene. No, beside his ex-wife. The image irritated him more than he cared to admit, and it made no sense, because none of this should have mattered to him. He had wanted the divorce and signed the papers himself. He had made it clear that their marriage was over. So why couldn't he stop thinking about her?

He arrived at his office earlier than usual the next morning. The floor was quiet, most employees still hadn't come in, and he loosened his tie and dropped into his chair before calling his secretary. The line connected at once.

"Good morning, sir."

"I need more information on Michael Ashford."

A brief silence followed. "Sir?"

"You heard me."

"Yes, sir."

The call ended, and Damien turned toward the floor-to-ceiling window behind him. The city stretched out below, and normally the view helped clear his mind.

A soft knock broke his concentration. His secretary stepped in carrying a tablet. "I've gathered everything available so far."

Damien motioned for him to go on.

"The car that picked up Mrs Vance yesterday was registered personally under Michael Ashford's name." Damien already knew that much. "What else?"

The secretary glanced at the screen. "Michael Ashford cleared most of his schedule yesterday."

Damien frowned. "What do you mean?"

"He canceled two meetings and postponed a business lunch." The secretary hesitated, then added, "According to the timeline, his only personal activity all day was driving out to the Vance estate."

The office seemed to go quieter. Damien stared at him. "You're telling me Michael Ashford personally drove across the city to pick up Selene?"

"Yes, sir."

It made no sense to him. Men like Michael Ashford didn't act as chauffeurs. The man ran billion-dollar companies, with entire teams working beneath him. Yet here he was, driving himself to collect a woman who, as far as Damien knew, had once worked part-time at a small bookstore. The contradiction stuck with him.

"Anything else?"

"No, sir."

Damien dismissed him, and the secretary left, leaving the silence to settle back in. For a long moment Damien just sat there, fingers tapping slowly against the desk. When he'd first met Selene, she'd been living in a small town with no family nearby, no connections, no wealth, no influence—or so he'd believed. Yet somehow Michael Ashford was tangled up in her life now, and the more he turned it over, the less it added up. His eyes narrowed.

"Who exactly are you, Selene?"

Across town, at the Ashford estate, Maureen sat at the breakfast table without really eating. The food on her plate went untouched while her thoughts drifted—back to Damien. Footsteps approaching pulled her back into the room, and a servant stopped beside her chair.

"Miss Maureen, Mr. Ashford would like to see you in his study."

Her grip tightened around her coffee cup. Her father rarely summoned anyone for casual conversation, and the unease set in immediately. "Did he say why?"

"No, miss." The servant lowered her head respectfully. "He only asked that you come right away."

Maureen nodded, and once the servant left, what little appetite she'd had vanished completely. Something told her this conversation wouldn't be pleasant.

A few minutes later she stood outside Richard Ashford's study, where most of their old arguments had started. She knocked softly.

"Come in."

She took a steady breath and pushed the door open. Richard Ashford sat behind his desk with a thick file in front of him, and the moment she saw it, something in her chest sank.

"Sit."

She obeyed. Neither of them spoke for several seconds; Richard simply studied her the way he always did when he was trying to work something out. Finally he leaned back in his chair.

"Did you sleep?"

"A little."

"You cried." It wasn't a question. Maureen looked away, and Richard sighed quietly. Years ago she'd always been terrible at hiding her emotions, apparently that hadn't changed.

His gaze shifted to the file. "After you went upstairs last night, someone came to see me." Maureen's stomach tightened as he opened the folder. "A private investigator."

The room felt colder all at once. Three years ago, after Maureen disappeared, Richard had hired investigators to find her—she knew that; her brothers had told her countless times, but she'd never imagined the search would drag on this long.

Richard pulled out several documents. "I hired him not long after you left." His voice stayed calm. "Most investigators eventually gave up." A bitter smile crossed his face. "This one didn't."

Maureen lowered her eyes, guilt settling quietly in her chest.

"For three years I got nothing useful," Richard continued, fingers resting on the report. "Then last night, I finally got answers." Without warning, he slid one of the pages across the desk until it stopped in front of her.

Maureen's heart nearly stopped. Printed clearly across the page were two words: Selene Vance. The name felt strange now, like something out of another life.

Richard watched her carefully. "Would you like to explain why my daughter spent three years pretending to be someone else?"

Maureen stared at the paper as memories flooded back.

"What happened, Maureen?" Richard's voice had softened. He leaned forward. "Was being an Ashford really that terrible?"

"No." The answer came immediately, because it was true. Despite everything, she still loved her family so much.

Richard frowned. "Then why?"

Maureen took a slow breath. "You wouldn't understand."

"Try me."

A dry laugh escaped her. "You said the same thing three years ago." The memory came rushing back, the one that changed everything. Richard had wanted her back in medical school, but Maureen wanted freedom. Neither of them had been willing to listen, and neither had been willing to bend, so eventually she packed her bags and left. Neither of them had imagined it would be three years before they saw each other again.

Richard's expression grew complicated; he remembered that day too. "I wasn't trying to control your life."

"Maybe not intentionally." Maureen finally lifted her eyes. "But you'd already planned out every year of my future." Silence filled the room. "You chose my schools. You chose my tutors. You chose my internships." Her voice stayed calm. "I woke up one day and realized I was living a life that belonged to everyone except me."

Richard had no immediate response, for once.

Maureen looked back down at the report, at the name staring up at her. Selene Vance—a name she'd once believed would save her. Instead it had become attached to some of the most painful memories of her life.

Richard finally broke the silence. "Who was Selene Vance?"

This time Maureen answered. " A girl who thought she could start over if nobody knew who she was, she thought if she worked hard enough, loved hard enough, sacrificed enough." her voice faltered "things would eventually work out." Pain flickered across her face.

Richard's brows furrowed slowly. For the first time, he understood there was far more behind this story than a simple change of name.

Maureen looked directly at him, and the sadness in her eyes caught him off guard. "Selene Vance doesn't exist anymore." The room went silent, but this time she wasn't dodging the question—she was telling the truth. "Because the person who carried that name spent years trying to become everything someone else wanted." A bitter smile touched her lips. "And in the end, she forgot who she was."

Richard stared at his daughter, unsettled by those words. They didn't sound like an explanation. They sounded like a wound—one that had never healed.

He looked back down at the report, eyes moving across page after page: addresses, employment records, rental agreements, medical records. The investigator had documented everything. Then something caught his attention—a name, appearing again and again throughout the file.

Richard's expression changed, and his eyes narrowed. Maureen noticed immediately, and a terrible feeling settled in her stomach.

He turned another page, and the same name appeared. Slowly, he closed the file, and the study fell completely silent. His gaze lifted to meet hers, and for several seconds neither of them spoke.

Then Richard asked quietly, "Who is Damien Vance?"