Chapter 8：Scar Verification

1001words2026-01-19 06:01

After returning from Switzerland, the relationship between Alexander and me subtly changed. We were no longer just contractual partners, but accomplices sharing secrets. Clara's files confirmed my suspicion—she wasn't a true Sinclair bloodline, but a swapped baby.

"We need to find the final puzzle piece," I said to Alexander, "to prove that I am the true Sinclair heir."

We were studying archives in Alexander's study. I was wearing a silk robe with my hair still wet. Alexander handed me a cup of hot tea.

"The archives mention a name—Margaret Hopkins," Alexander pointed out, "She was the Sinclair family's nurse at that time, and also Clara's birth mother."

I nodded: "She must be the one who switched the babies. We need to find her."

"Already found her." Alexander took out a report, "She's living in a nursing home in Florida. We'll go see her tomorrow."

I stood up, the robe sliding off my shoulders, revealing a scar just below my collarbone. Alexander's gaze fell on that scar, his expression suddenly turning serious.

"That scar," he walked closer to me, his finger lightly touching the circular indentation, "is it from a bullet?"

I froze. This scar was left when I was hit by shrapnel in a car accident in my previous life—this body shouldn't have this scar.

"A childhood accident." I tried to explain, while pulling up my robe.

Alexander grabbed my wrist: "No, this is a bullet scar. I've seen too many wounds like this." His gaze became sharp, "Your body remembers injuries that don't belong to this lifetime, Vivian."

I broke free from his hand, my heart pounding like a drum: "What nonsense are you talking about?"

"Stop pretending." Alexander's voice was low and dangerous, his gaze sharp enough to pierce through all disguises, "From the first day you walked into my office, I knew you were different. That certainty when predicting the FDA's decision, your knowledge of my most secret past, that calmness in your eyes that only comes from experiencing death."

I stepped back, feeling my spine press against the cold wall, with nowhere to escape: "What exactly are you trying to say?"

"You've been reborn, haven't you?" Alexander's words pierced like a sharp sword, directly pointing at the darkest secret in my heart. His finger lightly touched the scar below my collarbone, "With memories from your previous life, even carrying scars that shouldn't exist."

I felt dizzy. The secret I had carefully guarded for so long was utterly defenseless before this man.

"You're insane," I tried to deny.

Alexander shook his head: "The answer is in the third safe in your study."

I was stunned. That safe, hidden in the deepest part of my private space, was something not even Lydia knew existed.

"What safe?" I pretended to be calm.

Alexander walked to the bookshelf, moved a book aside, revealing a hidden safe. He entered the password and opened the door.

"I never told you the password," I whispered.

Alexander took out a folder from the safe and handed it to me: "Because I set it."

I took the folder, feeling a strange sense of familiarity at my fingertips. Opening the first page, the world twisted before my eyes—it was my autopsy report, detailing every aspect of my death in my previous life. Car accident, burning, suffocation, multiple fractures. Turning further, there was a receipt from the funeral home, with the name "Alexander Knight" clearly written in the payer column.

"This is impossible..." I looked up at him, my voice trembling, "How could you..."

"Because I remember too." Alexander's voice softened, "I remember the rain that day, the harsh lights in the hospital corridor, the doctor's expression when he shook his head. I remember paying the funeral home, requesting the best coffin for you, with wreaths of white roses and lilies of the valley. I remember standing in the corner at the funeral, watching Clara cry her crocodile tears."

I felt my legs weaken, and Alexander quickly stepped forward, supporting my arm and helping me sit down.

"You've been reborn too?" I couldn't believe it.

Alexander shook his head, squatted down in front of me, and gently held my hands: "Not entirely. I only have fragmented memories, like dreams. But when you walked into my office and proposed that absurd engagement, everything started to become clear."

"Why didn't you say so earlier?" I demanded.

"I needed to be certain." Alexander sat across from me, "I needed to know if you remembered me, if you knew about our past."

"What past?" I asked in confusion, "We barely knew each other in our previous life."

Alexander smiled bitterly: "That's the irony of fate. We were supposed to know each other. Three days before your death, I had prepared all the evidence and was ready to contact you, to propose working together against Sinclair and Howard's collusion. But it was too late."

I was silent for a moment, digesting this information. Then I asked the most crucial question: "Why are you helping me?"

Alexander's gaze grew profound: "Because we are both pawns fooled by fate. Because I see in your eyes the same fire that burns within me - the fire of vengeance."

He reached out his hand, fingertips lightly touching the scar below my collarbone: "This world has given us a second chance, Vivian. This time, I won't let you face everything alone."

I looked at him, feeling for the first time that the connection between us transcended contracts and interests. We were accomplices of fate, survivors of death, travelers of time.

I placed my hand over his, feeling the warmth of his palm: "Since fate has given us the chance to start over, we will not disappoint it."

Alexander's fingers intertwined with mine, like two rivers of destiny finally converging. In this moment, I was no longer a solitary avenger. I had found a true ally, someone who understood my soul.

Perhaps, in this game against time, what we could find was not only justice, but also each other.