Chapter 7: Game in the Rain
1369words
"What's the plan?" Alexander walked into the room with two cups of coffee in his hands.
I took the coffee: "Lydia hacked into the clinic's appointment system. Clara has an appointment tomorrow at three o'clock. We need to get into her medical record room before she arrives."
"Easy," Alexander took out a business card, "The clinic director is my university classmate. I've already arranged a tour for tomorrow morning."
I raised an eyebrow: "How convenient."
"This is why you chose to ally with me." Alexander sipped his coffee, "However, we need a reasonable identity."
"A couple seeking fertility consultation?" I suggested.
Alexander nodded: "Perfect."
The next morning, we arrived at the Alps Health Center as agreed. The clinic director personally received us and showed us around the facilities.
"This is our genetic testing laboratory," the director introduced, "we provide the world's most advanced DNA analysis."
I noticed that the equipment in the laboratory was indeed first-class. "Do you also do paternity tests?" I deliberately asked.
The director smiled: "Of course, in fact, it's one of our most popular services. Many families need to confirm the identity of their heirs."
As the tour was coming to an end, the opportunity arose. I lightly pressed my temple, deliberately making my face pale: "Sorry, I suddenly feel a bit unwell... could I use the restroom?"
The director immediately expressed concern: "Of course, please follow me."
Alexander's gaze lingered on my face for a moment, and he nodded imperceptibly. The signal had been conveyed—I had ten minutes.
After being directed to the bathroom, I waited for the footsteps to fade away, then quickly took action. The corridor was empty, but security cameras were silently rotating. I counted my steps, remembering the route map Lydia had provided, used the duplicate card to pass through the magnetic door, and reached the medical records storage area.
Finally, I stood in front of the file cabinet in Section C. My fingers quickly slid across the labels—"Sinclair, A"..."Sinclair, B"...found it, "Sinclair, C".
Just as I was about to finish taking photos, footsteps echoed from the corridor. I quickly closed the file while sliding my phone into the hidden pocket of my skirt.
"Ma'am, this is a restricted area!" the nurse said sharply.
I pretended to be confused: "Oh, I'm sorry, I got lost, looking for the bathroom..."
The nurse looked at me suspiciously: "Please come with me."
I was escorted back to the lobby, where Alexander and the director were waiting for me.
"Darling, are you alright?" Alexander asked with concern, his eyes questioning whether I had succeeded.
I nodded slightly: "Just feeling a bit dizzy."
After leaving the clinic, heavy rain started falling again. Alexander and I ran through the rain toward the car parked across the street.
"Did you get it?" Alexander asked.
I took out my phone: "I only photographed part of it. Clara comes in monthly for blood tests and gene matching."
"Matching with whom?" Alexander pressed.
"I couldn't see that part," I shook my head, "but I found something strange—her blood type is marked as Type O in the records, but the Sinclair family are all Type A."
Alexander pondered thoughtfully: "This confirms your suspicion. Clara isn't a true Sinclair."
"I need more evidence," I said, "I'm going back tonight to get the complete file."
Alexander frowned: "That's too dangerous."
"I have no choice," I said firmly, "Clara will be coming tomorrow, and the files might be transferred afterward."
That night, I returned to the clinic alone. Lydia had hacked into the security system, giving me a 15-minute window.
I successfully snuck into the archives room and found Clara's complete file. While I was taking photos, I suddenly heard a sound outside the door. I quickly hid behind a cabinet and saw Clara and a doctor enter.
"What are the results?" Clara asked anxiously.
The doctor flipped through the report: "The genetic comparison still shows no match. You are not a blood relative of the Sinclair family."
Clara cursed: "Keep looking! Something must have gone wrong."
"Miss Clara," the doctor persuaded, "we've done more than a dozen tests, and the results are always consistent. Perhaps it's time to accept the truth."
"No!" Clara said sharply, "If it's discovered that I'm not the true Sinclair heir, I'll lose everything!"
After they left, I emerged from my hiding place and quickly photographed the remaining files. Just as I was about to leave, the alarm suddenly went off.
I quickened my pace, and as I passed through the backyard, I pushed open the heavy fire door. The cold rain immediately hit my face. Just as I was about to rush toward the street, a beam of flashlight cut through the darkness.
"Stop!" a security guard shouted.
I turned and ran in the opposite direction, but the rain had made the grass unusually slippery. My foot slipped, and I fell hard, scraping blood marks on my palms and knees against the rough ground. Pain pierced through fear, and I forced myself to get up.
The security guard had caught up, his hand grabbing my shoulder. Just as the guard was about to subdue me, a shadow rushed out from the side, quickly and precisely striking the guard's nape. The guard grunted and fell to the side. Alexander stood there, with rain flowing down his cheeks.
"I told you it was too dangerous," he pulled my hand, his eyes mixing anger and worry, "Quick, let's go!"
We ran in the heavy rain, turning several street corners before hiding in a narrow alley, leaning against the wall to catch our breath. I was soaked to the skin, and the scrape on my arm was stinging painfully.
"Why did you come?" I wiped the rain from my face, my voice trembling slightly from the cold.
Alexander took off his coat and draped it over my shoulders, his gesture unexpectedly gentle: "Intuition."
Back at the hotel, my fever wouldn't break. Alexander insisted on calling a doctor, but I shook my head in refusal.
"We can't leave any records," I said with difficulty, "If Clara finds out..."
"You're too stubborn." Alexander sighed, personally changing the ice pack on my forehead, his fingers lingering for a moment on my burning skin.
I smiled weakly: "This isn't the first time you've called me stubborn."
Alexander's hand suddenly froze in mid-air, his gaze turning sharp: "When did I ever say that?"
I realized my slip of tongue and quickly changed the subject: "My phone, the files..."
Alexander took out my phone: "Safe. The photos have been encrypted and sent to Lydia."
He tore his high-end dress shirt to bandage the wound on my arm.
"You ruined a good shirt," I said softly.
Alexander's fingers gently touched my wound: "Next time you get hurt, I'll stitch you up with your favorite Venetian glass knife."
My heart skipped a beat. The Venetian glass knife was a weapon I collected in my previous life; Alexander couldn't possibly know about it.
"How do you know about the Venetian glass knife?" I asked vigilantly.
Alexander's gaze was unfathomable: "Just a guess. You look like someone who would appreciate refined weapons."
I didn't press further, but I knew that Alexander Knight knew far more than I imagined. He seemed to know me inside out, including secrets I had never told anyone.
This filled me with both fear and curiosity. Who exactly was he? Why did he understand me so well? The connection between us was far more complex than our surface-level contract marriage.
But now, I was too weak to contemplate these questions. I closed my eyes, feeling Alexander's hand gently caress my forehead. In a state between sleep and wakefulness, I seemed to hear him whisper: "Don't leave me again, Vivian."
These words sent a tremor through my heart, but exhaustion quickly pulled me into darkness.
