The July heat wave hit the city like a heavy blanket. The scorching asphalt radiated heat, and the air seemed to turn into a thick, stagnant jelly. Veronica Benson sat on a bench in the shade of a sprawling tree, watching the cars pass by.

The third day without a roof over her head was taking its toll. Her bag with her few belongings stood beside her—all that remained of her former life. Veronica absentmindedly tucked back a stray strand of dark hair and glanced at her watch.

Two o’clock in the afternoon. The meeting was set for three, so she still had time to collect her thoughts. She pulled a compact mirror from her bag and critically examined her reflection.

Despite all the trials, her face retained that refined beauty that always drew attention. Large brown eyes framed by thick lashes, a straight nose, and sharply defined lips. Only the shadows under her eyes and a slight pallor betrayed her exhausted state.

Thirty years old—an age when life should just be beginning. But for her, it felt like everything had ended. Just a year ago, Veronica was a respected nurse at a prestigious private clinic, with an apartment and a stable income.

Now, she was homeless with a tarnished reputation. A ridiculous accusation of medical error, fabricated by the clinic’s administration to cover their own mistakes, had cost her career. Then came a chain of misfortunes: her father’s illness, selling the apartment in a desperate attempt to save him, unsuccessful treatment, and finally, his funeral.

The money from the sale drained away like water, leaving her with nothing. Veronica snapped the mirror shut and put it back in her bag. Now wasn’t the time for self-pity.

She needed to think about the future, no matter how uncertain it seemed. She stood up from the bench and headed to the bus stop. The address scribbled on a scrap of paper led to one of the most upscale neighborhoods in the city.

There, where Ethan Sinclair lived—her last hope for salvation. «Excuse me, could you tell me how to get to Maple Street?» she asked an elderly woman at the stop. «You need bus number 17,» the woman replied kindly.

«It’ll take you to the end of the line, and from there, it’s a five-minute walk.» Veronica thanked her and waited. Public transport felt like a luxury; extra money for fares had to be saved, but today was special.

She couldn’t be late for a meeting that could change everything. Ethan Sinclair—a successful industrialist, owner of a large construction company, and an old friend of her father. They had gone to school together, and though life had taken them down different paths, they occasionally met.

Her father had never asked him for help; pride wouldn’t allow it. But before his death, he had written a letter to his school friend, describing his daughter’s situation and asking him not to leave her in need. This letter was what Veronica intended to deliver today…The bus arrived right on schedule. Veronica took a seat by the window and clutched her bag. The city passed by outside—vibrant, noisy, indifferent to her troubles.

Forty minutes later, she got off at the end of the line and, checking the address, headed toward Maple Street. This neighborhood was starkly different from where she’d spent the last few days. Well-manicured avenues, luxurious mansions hidden behind high fences, expensive cars at the gates.

Here lived people for whom money was no issue. Sinclair’s mansion was exactly as she had imagined. A three-story building in modern style, surrounded by a well-kept garden.

A security guard in a crisp uniform stood at the gates. «I’m here to see Mr. Ethan Sinclair,» Veronica said, trying to sound confident. «My name is Veronica Benson.

I have an appointment at three o’clock.» The guard checked his tablet and nodded. «You’re expected.

Please proceed.» A path paved with light stone led to the main entrance. Veronica walked slowly, trying to calm her nerves.

This was her last chance, and she feared losing it. The door opened before she could knock. A man in a formal suit stood on the threshold.

«Good afternoon. Mr. Sinclair is expecting you in his study. Allow me to escort you.»

Veronica nodded and followed him through the spacious hall, adorned with paintings and sculptures. The luxury of this house underscored the gulf between her current position and the world of her father’s school friend. The assistant stopped before a massive oak door, knocked briefly, and, upon receiving permission, opened it for Veronica.

«Thank you, Victor, you may go,» came a deep male voice from inside the room. Veronica took a deep breath and stepped over the threshold. Ethan Sinclair’s study embodied restrained elegance and power.

A spacious room with high ceilings, walls paneled in dark wood, a massive desk by a panoramic window overlooking the manicured garden. Bookshelves filled with leather-bound volumes added an intellectual charm. The owner of the study rose from behind the desk as Veronica entered.

Ethan Sinclair, a 51-year-old man, looked imposing—tall, broad-shouldered, with piercing gray eyes and a neatly trimmed beard flecked with silver. His sharp dark-blue suit fit him impeccably. «Miss Veronica Benson,» he said, approaching her.

«Pleased to meet you, though I wish it were under better circumstances.» His handshake was firm and confident. Veronica felt the tension gripping her ease slightly.

«Thank you for agreeing to meet me, Mr. Sinclair,» she replied, trying to keep her voice steady. «I brought you a letter from my father.» She pulled a slightly crumpled envelope from her bag and handed it to Sinclair.

He accepted the letter, his gaze lingering on her hands—neat, with long fingers, the hands of a healthcare worker accustomed to precise movements. «Please, have a seat,» he gestured to the chair in front of the desk. «Would you like tea or coffee?» «No, thank you,» Veronica declined, sinking into the comfortable chair.

Sinclair returned to his desk, opened the envelope, and immersed himself in reading. His face remained impassive, but Veronica noticed his lips twitch momentarily, and a shadow of emotion flickered in his eyes, one she couldn’t identify. Finishing, he carefully folded the letter and placed it back in the envelope.

«Nicholas was always proud,» he said after a pause. «Even in school, he never asked for help; he achieved everything on his own. I learned about his illness too late, when nothing could be changed.»

«He didn’t want to burden anyone,» Veronica replied softly. «That was his character.» «I know,» Sinclair nodded.

«We weren’t close friends in recent years, but I always respected him.» He looked at Veronica intently. «Tell me about yourself.

I only know about your situation from what your father wrote.» Veronica took a deep breath and began her story. About her work at the clinic, about the patient who died due to the leadership’s negligence, about how she was made the scapegoat.

About the legal battles that drained her financially and emotionally. About her father’s illness, selling the apartment, desperate attempts to save him, and finally, his death, leaving her without support or a roof over her head. She spoke restrainedly, avoiding complaints and self-justifications, just stating the facts.

Sinclair listened attentively, not interrupting, only occasionally asking clarifying questions. «And where are you living now?» he asked when she finished. Veronica lowered her eyes.

«The last three days, I’ve been sleeping at the train station. Before that, I managed to stay with acquaintances, but you can’t abuse hospitality forever.» Sinclair frowned.

«And relatives?» «Only a cousin in Seattle, but we haven’t spoken in years.» She never got along with my father. Silence hung in the study.

Sinclair thoughtfully tapped his fingers on the desk, as if making a decision. «You worked as a nurse, right?» he finally asked. «Do you have experience caring for seriously ill patients?» «Yes,» Veronica nodded.

«I worked four years in the intensive care unit before moving to the private clinic.» «Then I have a proposal for you.» Sinclair leaned forward.

«My father, Constantine Sinclair, suffered a stroke six months ago. Physically, he’s almost recovered, but he needs constant supervision and care. The caregiver who’s been with him the last few months has to leave for family reasons.

I need someone I can trust.» Veronica felt her heart beat faster. «Really? You’re offering me a job?» she asked cautiously.

«Exactly,» Sinclair nodded. «Work and living here in the house. You’ll have your own room, meals, and decent pay.

My father is a difficult man with a strong character, but if you get along with him, everything will be fine.» Veronica couldn’t believe her luck. Just this morning, she didn’t know where she’d sleep, and now she was being offered a job, housing, and a chance to start over.

«I… I don’t know how to thank you,» she said in a trembling voice. «Thank your father,» Sinclair replied seriously. «Nicholas was an honest man, and I believe his daughter is the same.»

He pressed a button on the desk. «And now, let’s introduce you to your charge.» The assistant entered a minute later.

«Victor, please escort Miss Veronica Benson to Constantine Sinclair,» said Sinclair. «And tell Anna Paulson we have a new employee. Have her prepare the blue guest room.»

«Very well,» Victor nodded and turned to Veronica. «This way, please.» Veronica stood, feeling a slight dizziness from the sudden change in her fate.

«Thank you, Mr. Sinclair,» she said. «I won’t let you down.» «I hope not,» Sinclair replied.

«We’ll talk later to discuss the details of your work.» Following the assistant up the wide staircase to the second floor, Veronica couldn’t shake the feeling of unreality. Could her misfortunes really be over? Or was this just a brief respite before new trials? She didn’t know the answer, but for the first time in a long while, she felt hope.

Constantine Sinclair’s room was in the east wing of the mansion. Spacious, flooded with sunlight, with access to a small terrace. It resembled a luxury five-star hotel suite more than a patient’s room.

Medical equipment was cleverly disguised as interior elements, and the adjustable bed looked like a designer piece of furniture. Victor knocked softly on the door and, receiving permission, opened it for Veronica. «Mr. Constantine Sinclair, your visitor is here,» he announced.

Veronica Benson. The elderly man, sitting in an armchair by the window with a book in hand, looked up. Despite his 75 years and the recent stroke, Constantine Sinclair maintained a regal posture and sharp gaze.

His gray hair was neatly combed back, fine features betrayed breeding and character. He was dressed in an expensive loungewear set, with comfortable leather slippers on his feet. «So, you’re my new jailer?» he said with light irony in his voice.

The right side of his face was slightly less mobile, revealing the stroke’s aftermath. «Come closer, let me get a look at you.» Veronica approached the armchair, maintaining a professional smile.

From years in medicine, she’d learned to connect with all kinds of patients. «Good afternoon, Mr. Constantine Sinclair. Pleased to meet you.»

The old man scanned her appraisingly, lingering on her face. «Hmm, at least you’re pretty,» he noted without a hint of embarrassment. «The previous one looked like a dried herring.

Competent, though, I won’t argue.» «Father!» came Ethan Sinclair’s voice, entering the room behind them. «Behave yourself.»

«Veronica Benson is the daughter of my school friend and a professional nurse. I’m just stating a fact,» the elder Sinclair shrugged. At my age, you can say what you think.

Veronica Benson will live with us and care for you. I hope you’ll get along.» «We’ll see,» the old man snorted.

If she’s as nagging as Dr. Klein, she won’t last long. «I’ll try not to nag,» Veronica replied calmly. «But I’ll monitor your health closely.»

Constantine Sinclair suddenly smiled. «You’ve got spirit. That’s good.

I can’t stand people who just nod along.» Ethan Sinclair nodded in relief. «Well, it seems you’ve found common ground.

Veronica, make yourself at home. Anna Paulson, our housekeeper, will show you your room when you’re done meeting my father. This evening, we’ll discuss your duties in more detail.»

He turned to leave, but then an elderly, plump woman around sixty entered with a tray. «Tea,» she said. «Excellent, thank you, Anna Paulson,» nodded Ethan.

«I’ll join you for a few minutes.» They settled at a small table by the window. The woman poured tea into delicate porcelain cups and left, leaving the three of them.

«Tell me about yourself, Veronica,» suggested the elder Sinclair, sipping his tea. Ethan mentioned you’re the daughter of his school friend. «What did your father do?» «Nicholas Alexander Benson,» Veronica replied.

«He taught mathematics at the university.» «Benson.» Constantine repeated thoughtfully.

«Yes, I remember.» «Tall brunette like that?» «He visited us a few times when the boys were still in school.» «Yes, that’s him,» Veronica confirmed with slight sadness.

«He passed away two months ago.» «I’m sorry for your loss,» the old man said politely, but without much sympathy. «And your mother?» «She died when I was 12.

My father raised me.» «Tough,» Constantine noted briefly. «So, you’re a nurse?» «Was a nurse,» Veronica clarified.

«My last job was at a private clinic, MedCare.» «I know that one,» the old man nodded. «Why did you leave?» Veronica glanced quickly at Ethan Sinclair.

He gave a barely perceptible nod, indicating she could speak openly. «I was fired after an incident with a patient,» she answered honestly. «The clinic’s leadership made a serious mistake, but they blamed me.»

Constantine looked at her attentively. «And you didn’t fight for your reputation?» «I did,» Veronica replied firmly. «But I had no money for good lawyers or connections.

The clinic had both.» The old man nodded satisfied. Honest answer…«Possibly in a month or two if the recovery pace holds.» He turned to Veronica. «You’re the new caregiver, I assume.»

Veronica Benson, nurse, she introduced herself, shaking his hand. «Very good,» the doctor nodded. Ethan Sinclair mentioned he’d found a qualified specialist.

«Here’s the list of medications and procedures.» He handed her a sheet of paper. «Pay special attention to limb massage and breathing exercises.

And monitor blood pressure; it fluctuates in our patient.» After the doctor’s departure, Constantine noticeably relaxed. «Nag,» he commented.

«But seems to know his stuff.» He’s right about the massage and exercises, Veronica noted. «If you allow, I’d like to add a few exercises for fine motor skills to your routine.

It’ll help restore coordination faster.» To her surprise, the old man didn’t object. «Do what you think necessary, as long as it helps.

I want to get back to work before Ethan fully takes the reins.» The day flew by in caring for the patient. Veronica was in her element; finally, she could do what she loved—helping people.

By evening, Constantine looked content and even thanked her for the massage, which, he said, for the first time in a long while didn’t feel like torture. After dinner, when the elder Sinclair retired for his evening rest, Veronica decided to explore the house. Ethan warned he’d be late at the office, and Elizabeth Sinclair had gone to the theater with friends, so she was left to herself.

The mansion impressed with its size and luxury. Besides living areas, there was a library, a music room with a piano, even a small home theater. Veronica wandered the corridors, examining the paintings on the walls—mostly landscapes and portraits, apparently of the Sinclair family ancestors.

In the west wing, she found a door leading to a spacious study, different from Ethan’s work study. Judging by the decor, this was Constantine’s room, his personal space for work and relaxation. Veronica didn’t intend to intrude, but the door was ajar, and her attention was caught by a large photograph in a silver frame on the desk.

She stepped closer to look. From the photo looked a young woman, a beautiful blonde with bright blue eyes and a charming smile. Something in her face seemed familiar to Veronica, but she couldn’t remember where she might have seen this girl.

«That’s Katie, my granddaughter,» came Constantine’s voice from behind her. Veronica started in surprise and turned. «Sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude.»

The door was open, and I… It’s fine, the elderly man entered the study, leaning on his cane. «I forgot to lock it myself.» «Sit if you like.»

He gestured to an armchair by the fireplace and sank into the opposite one. Catherine was my joy and pride, he continued, gazing at the photo. Smart, beautiful, with character.

All like her mother. She was meant to be the heir to our business. His voice trembled.

But fate decided otherwise. «I’m very sorry,» Veronica said quietly. The old man paused, then asked.

«You don’t have children of your own?» Veronica shook her head. It didn’t work out. «It’s hard to outlive your own child,» Constantine said thoughtfully.

«Ethan holds up, but I can see how much it hurts him. He raised Katie alone after his wife’s death. They were very close.»

Veronica looked at the photo again. The girl’s face still seemed familiar, but memory stubbornly refused to provide the information. How did she die? she asked cautiously, hoping not to stir too painful memories.

Constantine sighed. Car accident. She was returning from Austria, where she’d vacationed with friends.

On a mountain road, her car plunged into a ravine and caught fire. He closed his eyes, as if warding off horrific images. The body was badly burned; identification was only by dental records and personal items.

Suddenly, something clicked in Veronica’s memory. Catherine Sinclair. A year ago, at the psychiatric clinic where Veronica worked after being fired from MedCare, there was a patient who looked remarkably like the girl in the photo.

Only much thinner, with a dull gaze and hair almost white from stress. Her name was… What was her name? The name escaped her, but the resemblance was striking.

What’s wrong? Constantine asked worriedly, noticing her changed expression. Are you unwell? No, no, all fine, Veronica hurried to assure him. Just…

It’s such a tragedy. Yes, the old man nodded. The worst thing that can happen to parents.

He rose with effort. I’ll go to my room, I think. The day was tiring.

Veronica helped him reach his bedroom, ensured he took his evening medication, and wished him good night. But she couldn’t sleep for a long time, tormented by the strange feeling that the solution was close; she just needed to recall the right name. Elizabeth? No, not that.

Eva? Not that either. Evelyn. That’s what the patient at the psychiatric clinic was called.

But was she really Catherine Sinclair, or just an amazing resemblance? And if so, what really happened? Who died in that car accident? Questions swarmed in Veronica’s head, denying her peace. She knew she had to act carefully. If she was wrong and it was just coincidence, her suspicions might seem absurd and even insulting to the family that had helped her so much.

But if she was right, then what? With these thoughts, Veronica finally fell asleep, deciding that morning is wiser than evening. The next morning, Veronica woke with a firm resolve to find the truth. After breakfast and morning procedures with Constantine, she went to the library, where, according to Anna Paulson, there was a computer with internet access.

You can use it anytime you’re free, the housekeeper explained. The Wi-Fi password is under the keyboard. Leaving the elder Sinclair to rest after massage, Veronica settled at the computer and began searching for information about the accident in which Catherine supposedly died.

In news archives, she found several articles describing the tragedy. Daughter of prominent industrialist dies in crash. Tragedy on mountain road claims life of construction empire heiress.

Details of the incident mostly matched what Constantine had told. Catherine was returning from Austria in her car. On a mountain serpentine, presumably due to brake failure, the car veered off the cliff and burst into flames.

The body was severely burned, complicating identification. Veronica frowned. If that wasn’t really Catherine, who died in that car? And most importantly, where is the real Catherine now, if she’s alive? She recalled the patient from the psychiatric clinic.

Evelyn arrived about a month after Catherine Sinclair’s supposed death. Diagnosis—post-traumatic stress disorder and partial amnesia. She barely spoke, just stared out the window for hours.

And her documents were odd, hastily prepared. Veronica tried to recall more details. Who brought Evelyn to the clinic? Some man, claiming to be her uncle.

Tall, with dark hair and cold eyes. He paid for six months of treatment in advance and asked to keep her away from other patients and especially visitors. Suddenly, another important detail surfaced in memory.

Evelyn had a scar on her right wrist, a thin white line like from a cut. And Veronica noticed the same scar on Catherine’s photo when she examined it more closely last evening. This couldn’t be coincidence…

«And your partners? How did they react to her death?» she asked. Like everyone—with shock and sympathy, Sinclair replied. Alex Grayson even organized a charity fund in Catherine’s name.

And Anthony Markham helped with legal formalities after her death. They were both very upset by her passing. But not too upset? Weren’t they trying to ease their own guilt or divert suspicion? Veronica kept these questions to herself.

«Sorry for the curiosity,» she said instead. «I just see how hard it is for you and your father, and I’d like to better understand the situation so as not to say anything extra. I appreciate your concern,» Sinclair replied sincerely.

«You know, with your arrival in the house, it’s like it became brighter. Father grumbles less, and I…» He hesitated, «For the first time in a long time, I felt life could go on.» He looked at her with such warmth that Veronica felt awkward.

«I should go,» she said gently. «Constantine doesn’t like his breakfast delayed.» Of course, Sinclair nodded. «Good night, Veronica.»

«Good night, Ethan.» «Just Ethan, remember?» he smiled. «Good night, Ethan,» she repeated and headed to the house, feeling his gaze on her.

In her room, Veronica found a missed call from Marina and a short message. «Call back when you can, even late.» She immediately dialed the number.

«Marina? Sorry for the late call.» «No problem, I’m not sleeping anyway,» she responded. «You wanted to talk about something important?» «Yes,» Veronica took a deep breath.

«Do you remember the patient named Evelyn Porter? She arrived about a year ago with PTSD and partial amnesia.» «I remember,» Marina said after a pause. «The blonde, right?» So quiet.

«Exactly. I really need information about her. Anything from her medical records, maybe test results or X-rays.»

«Why do you need this?» Marina’s voice held suspicion. «You know it’s confidential.» Veronica hesitated.

«Should she tell the truth?» But without Marina’s support, she couldn’t manage. «I think this girl might not be who she claims to be,» she finally said. «Or rather, who they claim she is.

She might be a victim of a crime.» «What?» Marina gasped. «Are you serious?» «Absolutely.

And I need proof to help her.» Marina pondered. «I can’t just give you medical records.

It’s illegal.» «But…» She paused. «Maybe I could look myself and tell you in general terms.

Nothing violating confidentiality, just facts.» That would be huge help, Veronica exhaled in relief. «When can you do it?» «Tomorrow I’m on night shift.

I’ll try to check the archive. Call as soon as I learn something. Thanks, Marina.

You have no idea how important this is.» Hanging up, Veronica felt a surge of hope. If she can find medical evidence that Evelyn and Catherine are the same, she can move forward.

But the main question remained—where is Catherine now? And how to find her? The morning started with an unpleasant surprise. At breakfast, Ethan Sinclair announced that his business partners were coming to the house today. Alex Grayson and Anthony Markham, he explained, noticing Veronica’s questioning look.

«We have important negotiations, then a small business dinner. I hope father can attend if he feels well.» Of course, Constantine nodded.

«I’m not hiding in my room like a feeble old man.» Just no overexertion, Veronica warned. «And don’t forget to take medications on time.»

Her thoughts raced feverishly. Grayson and Markham here, in this house. If they see her, will they recognize her? Probably not; at the clinic, she wore uniform, hair under a cap, and they likely didn’t notice a regular nurse.

Yet the risk existed. «What time will they arrive?» she asked as casually as possible. «Around two p.m.,» Sinclair replied.

«Why?» «Just planning the day,» Veronica explained. «Constantine and I need to do procedures before they arrive.» When Ethan left, and Constantine went to the library, Veronica decided to use the opportunity and inspect Catherine’s office.

Anna Paulson mentioned the girl’s room remained untouched after her death; Ethan wouldn’t let anything be changed, as if hoping his daughter would return one day. Catherine’s office was on the second floor, next to Ethan’s room. The door wasn’t locked, and Veronica cautiously entered.

The room looked as if the owner had just stepped out and would return any moment. Papers neatly stacked on the desk, a coffee cup, calendar on the wall. Photos on shelves captured happy moments: graduation, beach vacation with father, trips to different countries.

Veronica began carefully examining the room, trying not to touch anything. She wasn’t sure what she was looking for—perhaps a clue about those documents Catherine planned to show her father, or where she might have been taken after the clinic. Checking the desk and cabinets, Veronica found nothing noteworthy.

It seemed all important papers had indeed vanished with Catherine. There was no computer in the office—likely Ethan took it for examination after his daughter’s disappearance. About to leave, Veronica noticed a small box on the bookshelf.

An ordinary wooden box with carved pattern, not drawing much attention. Following intuition, she opened it. Inside was a diary in a worn leather cover.

Veronica took it with trepidation. Could this be what she sought? Catherine’s entries could shed light on events before her disappearance. She quickly flipped through the diary.

The last entry was dated a week before Catherine’s supposed death. June 15. Found strange documents in A.G.’s office. Looks like he and A.M. are preparing some major scam.

Need to show everything to dad, but first gather more info. They mustn’t suspect I know something. A.G. obviously Alex Grayson, and A.M. Anthony Markham.

So Veronica’s suspicions were confirmed. Catherine indeed suspected her father’s partners of some machinations. Veronica photographed this page on her phone, then returned the diary to the box and put it back.

She needed to hurry—anyone could enter and find her here at any moment. Leaving the office, she ran into Anna Paulson. Veronica Benson, surprised the housekeeper, what are you doing in Catherine Sinclair’s room.

I… Veronica frantically sought a plausible explanation. I accidentally came in here. Was looking for the library to get a book for Constantine.

Anna Paulson frowned. The library is on the first floor, you know that. And this part of the house…

No one comes here since the misfortune. Sorry, Veronica said sincerely. I didn’t mean to violate forbidden territory.

The housekeeper’s face softened. No harm done. Just Ethan Sinclair reacts very painfully when someone enters Katie’s room.

Better he doesn’t know. Of course, Veronica nodded. I won’t tell anyone.

She hurried downstairs to Constantine, feeling excitement from the find and anxiety about the upcoming visit by Grayson and Markham. Now, with evidence the partners were hiding something, meeting them could be dangerous. Fortunately, morning procedures and lunch passed without incident.

Constantine was in good spirits and even joked that for the first time in ages he felt almost human. Veronica diligently performed her duties, but her thoughts were elsewhere. At exactly two o’clock, an expensive black car appeared at the mansion gates.

Veronica watched from the second-floor window as two men exited: tall, dark-haired Grayson and stocky Markham. They confidently headed to the house, where Ethan met them. Veronica decided it was better not to cross their path unnecessarily.

She told Constantine her head ached and asked permission to rest in her room. The old man understood and let her go, saying he’d manage, and if needed, call. In her room, Veronica paced restlessly.

In an hour, Marina should call back with news from the clinic, and meanwhile, she needed to pass the time. She pulled out her phone and again carefully studied the photo of the diary page. The entry was short but informative.

Catherine clearly suspected the partners of some scam. But what exactly? And why didn’t she tell Ethan right away? The phone rang, making Veronica jump. It was Marina.

Found something interesting, she started without preamble. You were right, something’s off with this Evelyn. There are oddities in her medical chart.

What kind? Veronica asked tensely. First, the tests. They show she has a rare blood type—AB negative.

Occurs in less than 2 percent of the population. Second, X-rays show traces of an old fracture on the right wrist, very characteristic—called a Colles’ fracture. And what does that mean? Veronica asked impatiently, though guessing.

I checked the database, Marina continued. Catherine Sinclair, daughter of the well-known industrialist who died in a car crash a year ago, had exactly the same blood type and exactly the same wrist fracture. It’s noted in her medical chart in our base; she had a checkup at our clinic a few months before her supposed death.

Veronica’s heart raced faster. There it is, proof. Are you sure it can’t be coincidence? Such coincidence is extremely unlikely, Marina replied firmly.

Blood type, identical fracture—the odds are near zero. Veronica, what’s going on? Who is this girl really? I think she’s Catherine Sinclair, Veronica said quietly. She’s alive, but someone went to great lengths to make everyone think she’s dead.

But why? And who died in that car? I don’t know, Veronica admitted honestly. But I’m going to find out. Thank you so much for the help, Marina.

Be careful, her friend warned. If you’re right and someone staged Catherine’s death, that person is dangerous. Very dangerous.

After talking with Marina, Veronica felt tension rising. Now she had proof Evelyn and Catherine were the same. But where is the girl now? And how to tell Ethan without endangering him or herself? Suddenly, there was a knock on her room door.

Veronica jumped. Yes? Come in. Anna Paulson stood on the threshold.

Veronica Benson, you’re asked to come down for dinner. The guests are gathered. But I… Veronica wanted to cite headache, but the housekeeper interrupted.

Ethan Sinclair insists. He wants to introduce you to his partners. Refusing was impossible.

Veronica quickly freshened up and went down to the dining room, where the dinner participants were assembled. Ethan, Constantine, Grayson, Markham, and another man she didn’t know. Ah, here’s our fairy rescuer, Sinclair smiled, seeing Veronica.

Gentlemen, meet. Veronica Benson, nurse who’s literally brought my father back to life. Veronica greeted politely, trying not to show her agitation.

She scrutinized Grayson’s face especially, would he recognize her. But Alex Grayson only nodded absently to the greeting, clearly not recognizing the nurse from the psychiatric clinic. His cold gray eyes slid over her without much interest.

Very nice, he said formally. Ethan spoke of you. Seems you really work miracles.

I just do my job, Veronica replied modestly, taking the offered seat at the table. Dinner passed in a tense atmosphere for her. The men discussed some new project—construction of a large logistics center on the city’s outskirts.

Veronica ate silently, covertly observing Grayson and Markham. Alex Grayson, tall, fit man about 45, spoke little but weightily. His manner revealed a man used to power and control.

Anthony Markham, conversely, was more talkative and emotional. He gestured actively, convincing Sinclair of the project’s advantages. Ethan, you must understand, Markham insisted, this is a unique opportunity.

If we miss it now, competitors won’t sleep. I understand everything, Anton, Sinclair replied calmly. But the project requires huge investments, and the current economic situation isn’t the most favorable for such risks.

Risks are minimal, Grayson interjected. I personally checked all calculations. Payback in 3 years, max 4. Katie would approve, Markham added unexpectedly, and Veronica noticed Sinclair flinch at the mention of his daughter’s name.

She always advocated for business expansion. No need, Ethan replied coldly. Katie was cautious in financial matters, and you know that.

Awkward silence hung over the table. The third guest, introduced as Victor Sommers, investment consultant, cleared his throat and changed the topic. By the way, about finances.

Heard about the new tax bill? It could significantly affect the construction business. Conversation shifted to a more neutral topic, but Veronica noticed Grayson casting tense glances at Sinclair. It was obvious getting approval for this project was very important to him.

After dinner, everyone moved to the living room for coffee. Constantine, tired from the long evening, excused himself and went to rest, asking Veronica to help him upstairs. «I’ll be back soon,» she whispered to Ethan, leading the old man away.

Escorting Constantine to his room and ensuring he took his evening medication, Veronica didn’t hurry back to the living room. Instead, she quietly descended the stairs and stopped at the slightly ajar door, listening to the conversation. «Final deadline—end of the month,» Grayson was saying.

«If we don’t sign the contract now, the land will go to other buyers.» «I can’t make such a decision in haste,» Sinclair replied. «I need time to think, consult lawyers.»

«What lawyers?» Markham exclaimed irritably. «You have me. I checked all documents, everything’s clean.» «Sorry, Anthony, but after that incident with the Austrian partners, I prefer to be cautious.»..«Please, can I have a glass of water?» she pleaded pitifully. «I’m so thirsty!» «Stephen, get water for our guest,» the man ordered. The guard went to the kitchen, and Veronica followed, staggering for effect.

Stephen reluctantly opened the cabinet with mineral water and soda bottles. Veronica reached for water and «accidentally» dropped a bottle. «Oh, sorry!» she exclaimed, bending to pick it up.

At that moment, she discreetly pulled a plastic ampoule with sedative from her pocket and hid it in her palm. While the guard was distracted, she quickly uncapped it and squeezed the sedative into an open cola bottle on the table and into the teapot with tea on the stove. Then, as if nothing happened, she straightened with the water bottle in hand.

«Thank you so much!» she said gratefully, taking a sip. «You have no idea how worn out I am.» They returned to the room where the second man remained.

Veronica portrayed relief. «Thank you! I was so afraid I’d have to spend the night in the forest.» «Stephen, pour yourself some cola!» the man said to the guard.

«And tea for me! And watch our… guests. I’ll go check the perimeter, just in case.» He grabbed his jacket and left the house.

The other guard poured himself cola and took a big gulp, then filled a cup with tea for his partner when he returns. Veronica glanced discreetly at her watch. Now wait for the sedative to take effect and signal Sinclair.

She cautiously shifted her gaze to Catherine. The girl sat motionless, but her eyes now held tense attention. She seemed to understand something was happening.

Fifteen agonizing minutes passed. The guard finished his cola and began yawning, eyes glazing over. Veronica noted with relief the sedative working.

«Something’s making me sleepy,» Stephen muttered. «Don’t think of going anywhere, got it?» He looked at Catherine, then Veronica. «Sit quietly.

Sam will be back soon.» He sank heavily onto the sofa, and a few minutes later his breathing became even and deep; he was asleep. Veronica jumped to him, snatched the phone from his breast pocket, stuffed it in her bag, then rushed to the window and knocked twice shortly.

Almost immediately, the door burst open, and Ethan Sinclair stormed in. Seeing his daughter, he froze for a moment, disbelieving. «Katie?» he called quietly.

Catherine slowly rose from the table, her lips trembling. «Dad? Is it you?» Sinclair rushed to his daughter and hugged her tightly. Catherine tensed at first, then went limp in his arms, tears streaming down her cheeks.

«I thought I’d never see you again,» she whispered. «They said you died. That everyone died.»

«Everything’s okay, baby,» he soothed, stroking her hair. «Now everything will be okay. I found you and will never let go again.»

Veronica watched the scene with emotion but didn’t forget time. «We need to leave. Quickly.

The other one could return any minute. But I managed to slash all four tires on their car with a knife.» Sinclair nodded and helped his daughter stand.

Catherine was very weak, her legs buckling. «I can’t walk fast,» she said guiltily. «They…

They gave me some drugs to keep me calm and not try to escape.» «I’ll carry you,» Sinclair said decisively and lifted his daughter in his arms. «Veronica, lead us to the car.»

They left the cabin and quickly moved toward the forest. Veronica went ahead, peering intently into the darkness and listening to every rustle. Sinclair followed, carefully carrying his daughter.

Suddenly, a shout behind them. «Stop! Stop, I say!» It was the guard. He’d noticed their escape.

«Run!» Veronica cried. «I’ll delay him!» She turned sharply and charged at the pursuer, hoping to buy time for the fugitives. The man didn’t expect the move and hesitated momentarily, giving Veronica a chance.

She collided with him full force, and both tumbled to the ground. A struggle ensued. The guard was stronger, but Veronica fought with desperate resolve of someone with nothing to lose.

She scratched, bit, hit wherever, trying to gain every second for the escapees. Suddenly, a shot rang out, and the man recoiled from her. A few yards away stood Sinclair with a gun in hand.

«Get away from her!» he said coldly. Or the next bullet won’t be in the air. The guard slowly stood, raising his hands.

«Give me your weapon and phone!» Sinclair said evenly, aiming at the guard’s forehead. He obediently tossed his phone, gun, and knife, which Veronica promptly picked up. Keeping the guard at gunpoint, he backed away with Veronica to the forest, where Catherine waited.

Once hidden among the trees, the guard shouted after them. «You won’t get far.» This spurred them on.

They quickened pace, Sinclair again carrying his daughter, moving to the car as quietly and fast as possible. «Where did you get the gun?» Veronica whispered when they’d distanced from the cabin a bit. «Brought it along.»

«Always keep it in the car,» he replied quietly. «In our business, sometimes you travel with large sums. Never thought I’d use it in such a situation.»

The way back seemed twice as long. Every rustle, every branch crack made them freeze and listen. But luckily, no pursuit.

Apparently, the guard decided not to chase them alone in the dark forest without a weapon. They’ll discover the car not drivable a bit later, and without phones, can’t call for help. And it’ll take them a whole day on foot to the nearest road.

Finally, they reached the car. Sinclair carefully laid his daughter on the back seat. Veronica sat next to her to monitor her condition, and Ethan took the driver’s seat.

«Hold on tight,» he warned, starting the engine. «The road will be rough.» The SUV lurched forward, bouncing on roots and bumps.

Catherine moaned quietly; the shaking caused pain. Veronica hugged the girl by the shoulders, trying to hold her steady. «Hang in there, dear,» she said gently.

«Soon we’ll be home, and this will end.» «Who are you?» Catherine asked weakly. «I remember you.»

«From the clinic, right?» «Yes, I worked there as a nurse when you were brought in,» Veronica confirmed. «My name is Veronica Benson. I’m helping your father care for your grandfather.»

«Grandfather.» Tears welled in the girl’s eyes. «He’s alive?» They said he died of grief after my death.

«Alive and waiting eagerly for you,» Veronica smiled. «He’s a very strong man, your grandfather.» The car emerged onto a smoother road, and Sinclair accelerated.

They raced through the forest, praying to reach the city before Grayson organized pursuit. «Dad,» Catherine called, «you need to know.» Grayson and Markham.

They’re planning something big. I found documents proving they plan to seize company assets through shell companies. They want to bankrupt Sinclair Construction and buy it all cheap.

«I suspected something like that,» Sinclair replied grimly. But couldn’t figure out how exactly they planned to pull it off. «Everything’s on my laptop,» Catherine continued.

«I copied the documents before the Austria trip. The laptop should be in my room if they didn’t find it.» «They didn’t,» her father assured.

«I checked your laptop after…» «After your disappearance, but found nothing unusual.» «Files in a hidden folder,» Catherine explained.

«Under password.» «Mr. Snowball, remember?» «My first cat’s name.» «Remember, of course,» Sinclair smiled.

«Katie, you have no idea how I missed you. And I thought I’d never see you again,» she replied quietly. «At first, in the early months, I tried to escape.

But they kept me on drugs; I was semi-conscious most of the time. Then took me to that clinic. And when they took me from there, said you died, everyone died, and I had nowhere to go.

I stopped resisting. Lost hope.» «It’s all behind us,» Sinclair said firmly.

«Now we’re together again, and no one can separate us. And Grayson and Markham will answer for everything they’ve done.» Veronica looked at father and daughter with warmth and relief.

Despite all dangers of this night, despite worry for the future, she was happy. She managed to help reunite the family, correct a monstrous injustice. That was the main thing.

When they hit the highway to the city, Sinclair slowed a bit to avoid drawing traffic police attention. About an hour’s drive to home. «What do we do next?» Veronica asked.

«First, take Katie home and call the doctor,» Sinclair said decisively. «Then I’ll contact my friend in the police, Lieutenant Colonel Sawyer. Tell him everything and hand over evidence from Katie’s laptop. Let law enforcement handle those scoundrels.»

«And if Grayson has connections in the police?» Veronica asked worriedly. «Possibly,» Sinclair agreed. «But I’m not staying silent.

Besides, I have influence and connections too. We’ll fight, and we’ll win. Truth is on our side.»

Catherine fell asleep, head on Veronica’s lap. Likely stress and residual drug effects. Veronica gently stroked her hair, thinking what this girl had endured.

A year and a half in captivity, isolated from loved ones, under psychotropics. It could break anyone. She’d need time to fully recover physically and psychologically.

But now she had family support, and that’s key. Finally, they arrived at the Sinclair mansion. It was past midnight, but lights were on; Constantine hadn’t slept, waiting for their return.

When the car stopped at the porch, the door flung open, and the old man, leaning on his cane, came out to meet them. Ethan carefully carried his daughter from the car. Catherine woke and, seeing her grandfather, burst into tears.

«Grandpa! You’re alive!» Constantine, unashamed of tears, hobbled to them. «Katie! My girl!» Ethan brought his daughter to his father, and they embraced, all three, united by joy of reunion and sorrow of endured separation. Veronica stood aside, not wanting to intrude on this touching moment.

But Sinclair noticed her and gestured to join. «Veronica, this wouldn’t have happened without you! You’re part of our victory!» They entered the house, where worried Anna Paulson and Victor waited. Seeing Catherine, the housekeeper cried and rushed to hug the girl, lamenting and thanking heavens for the miraculous return.

«Anna Paulson, please prepare Katie’s room,» Sinclair ordered. «Victor, call Dr. Klein immediately, say it’s an emergency. And call Lieutenant Colonel Sawyer, have him come as soon as possible.»

While these orders were carried out, Veronica helped Catherine shower and change into clean clothes. The girl was very weak, moved with difficulty, but sparks of former vitality appeared in her eyes. «Thank you,» she said quietly as Veronica helped brush her hair.

«You risked your life for me, though we weren’t even acquainted.» «I did what I had to,» Veronica replied simply. «Anyone in my place would do the same.»

«And call me ‘you’; we’re about the same age.» «Then you too.» «And not anyone,» Catherine shook her head…And we’ll always be your family,» Catherine said firmly, hugging her. «No matter what.» Ethan approached with a beaming smile.

«What are you whispering about, my dears?» he asked jokingly. «Hope not plotting how to tame me after the wedding?» «No,» Catherine laughed. «For that, we need a separate meeting, preferably with grandpa.

He knows your weak spots best.» Traitor, Sinclair frowned playfully. «And this is my own daughter.»

They laughed, enjoying the moment of pure, unclouded happiness. Veronica surveyed the garden full of guests, flowers, and music, thinking how far she’d come from that desperate woman on the park bench just a year ago. Her gaze stopped on Constantine, happily accepting congratulations from guests.

The old man caught her eye and winked, as if saying, «See how well everything turned out.» «Yes,» Veronica thought, «everything turned out just perfect.» Shadows of the past had fully dissipated, giving way to bright sunlight of the present and future promising to be even more beautiful.

«What are you thinking about?» Ethan asked quietly, embracing her shoulders. «About how amazing life is,» she replied, leaning against him. «And how grateful I am to fate for every turn that brought me here, to you.»

«I’m grateful too,» he agreed. «For you, for Katie’s return, for father’s health. For everything.»

Veronica, looking at her loved ones, at the home that became native, at happy faces around, knew it was true. Life can be unfair, cruel, and merciless, but sometimes it gifts moments of pure, unadulterated happiness that make all endured sufferings seem a small price. Ethan leaned down and tenderly kissed her.

Around them sounded approving cheers and applause from guests, but Veronica didn’t hear them. In that moment, only they two existed—man and woman who found each other despite all obstacles, despite logic and common sense, despite fate itself. And that was the greatest miracle of all.

Constantine raised his glass, drawing guests’ attention. «To my new daughter, Veronica. To my son and my granddaughter.

To our family, which went through fire and water but became only stronger. To the future awaiting us. To the future!» All present echoed.

Veronica and Ethan exchanged glances, and in their eyes read the same thought. Whatever trials this future prepares, they’ll meet them together, shoulder to shoulder, strong in their love and support for each other. Shadows of the past left behind.

Ahead was light.