Amy drew in a slow, steadying breath, her voice barely audible as she began to unravel the past.

"My father was enraged by what Victoria did—how she shattered our family. Whatever gratitude he once held for her evaporated like morning mist."

Her fingers traced invisible patterns on the tablecloth. "At the peak of my parents' turmoil, when their fights over Victoria reached a fever pitch, she appeared at our doorstep. My mother didn’t hesitate—she threw her out immediately."

A bitter smile touched Amy’s lips. "Victoria tried calling my father, but my mother intercepted every attempt. Then, without warning, tragedy struck. Victoria was gone—just like that."

Her gaze drifted to the rain-streaked window, her tone detached. "Her sudden death... it changed something in my father. Maybe it resurrected old memories, or maybe he simply needed a scapegoat. Either way, he blamed my mother entirely."

She exhaled sharply. "He demanded we take in Victoria’s daughter—forcing my mother to become her legal guardian, insisting she raise the girl as her own."

"Of course, my mother refused. She even considered fleeing." Amy’s hands clenched briefly. "When my father discovered her plans, he locked her away like a prisoner."

A shadow crossed her face. "Eventually, she pretended to comply, biding her time. When the moment came, she escaped to Newhaven, putting an ocean between herself and my father."

Her voice softened. "Only after arriving in Newhaven did she realize she was pregnant again."

"She couldn’t bring her three children with her, so... she left me behind." Amy swallowed hard. "Years later, my mother was diagnosed with a terminal illness. Knowing time was short, she confessed everything to me."

A pause. Then, barely a whisper: "I still remember her tears when she said, 'Celeste, I’m so sorry. The sins of the past should never have fallen on you. If not for my pride, you would have grown up cherished, wanting for nothing—never bearing the shame of being called fatherless.'"

The words lingered in the quiet room, heavy with regret.

"I was in high school when the Harringtons briefly took me back. But I never belonged there. My relationship with my half-sister, Evelyn, was especially venomous—we were like fire and gunpowder."

Her lips thinned. "After college, I severed ties completely. I never looked back."

Sebastian’s eyes widened. "So during college, you weren’t using the name Amy Sinclair?"

She nodded. "Correct. The Harringtons fabricated an identity for me—an 'adopted daughter' with no past. That’s why your investigations turned up nothing."

"To them, I was a dirty secret. My mother’s story, mine... they buried it all."

A humorless laugh escaped her. "So, Amy is Amy. Evelyn Harrington is a ghost."

Sebastian studied her. "Your name in the Harrington family was Evelyn?"

"Yes." Her voice turned icy. "Evelyn—the shadow at dawn. How poetic."

Samantha spoke up quietly. "Amy always hoped Celeste could have a real family. At first, she tried. She really did. But in the end..."

Her jaw tightened. "In the end, even her own brothers—her blood—chose that adopted girl over her. If not for Victoria and her daughter, Amy would never have lost her home."

What Samantha didn’t say aloud was worse:

If Nathaniel Harrington wanted to play savior, fine. But to force Amy’s mother to raise the child of the woman who destroyed her marriage? Unforgivable.

By now, Sebastian understood everything.