Chapter 95

The seventeen-year wait felt like an endless nightmare for the Langley family.

Every corner of their home was shrouded in lingering gloom.

Victoria Langley's vanity always displayed a childhood photo of Evelyn Laurent, its frame worn smooth from constant touching.

In Richard Langley's study, stacks of documents about his missing daughter gathered dust—always missing that crucial final page.

Countless nights found Sebastian Langley alone on the balcony, staring blankly at the stars.

They'd tried every method, even consulting mystics, yet their lost princess remained unfound.

Until the police call breathed life back into the Langley household.

Now Evelyn trembled in Sebastian's crushing embrace, her ear pressed against his racing heartbeat.

"We should be thanking you," Richard murmured with uncharacteristic softness, eyes glistening.

The iron-willed tycoon's gaze overflowed with seventeen years of pent-up paternal love.

Evelyn couldn't speak. Her chest burned.

This was the warmth of being truly cherished by family.

Meanwhile, Ethan Sullivan's car tore through Beverly Hills' tree-lined avenues.

Moonlight sharpened his angular profile.

Harrison Whitmore's urgent call had derailed his plans.

"Mr. Sullivan, we've found something."

Harrison stood exhausted in the living room, dark circles under his eyes.

He presented a thick dossier with both hands. "Sophia Lowell's adoptive parents adored her, but she severed ties herself."

"As for Evelyn Laurent..." Harrison swallowed hard. "There were irregularities when she was seven."

Ethan's grip tightened. Paper crunched in protest.

"Irregularities?" His voice turned glacial. "I need proof, not speculation."

Harrison's back prickled with cold sweat.

"The Lowells acted suspiciously," he rushed to explain. "Not reporting their daughter missing for five days—that's unnatural."

Ethan slammed the files onto the coffee table. Glass cracked like a spiderweb.

The room's temperature seemed to plummet.