Rebirth Into My Second Chance

When everyone was at their wit's end, a message runner burst into the room, panting, "Mr. Collins, an urgent document just arrived for your eyes only."

Ronald furrowed his brow in concern but had a rare smile upon reading the document. "Proof! It is the proof we needed!"

Curious, I leaned in for a closer look. The document was a paternity test report. The DNA from the charred remains of a child did not match Claude's. Instead, it was a perfect match with Claire's DNA. "This report came in just at the right time, Mr. Collins. Who'd have the power to pull off what we couldn't?" One of the detectives asked.

Tears of joy and relief briefly overcame Ronald before he composed himself and said, "This report only proves one thing. Claire is dead. None of this was her doing."

I was still processing the news. So, the child wasn't Claude's. Then whose was it? Who was in that hotel room with me that night? Claude's childhood friend had arranged the room number and everything. To uncover the truth, I had to find Claude's childhood friend and discover whom they gave that room number.

"Pass this report to Mr. Hart," Ronald ordered.

I slumped into a chair, overwhelmed. With this report, Claude would forever see me as a loose woman. After all, the child wasn't his. Even if it could prove that I was dead, it would probably come as a relief to him. Feeling defeated, I looked at Ronald, suddenly wishing my death remained a mystery. That way, no one would know the child wasn't my husband's. If it became public knowledge, the entire society would condemn me. "Mr. Collins, this Claire... doesn't seem to be all that saintly, carrying another man's kid," I overheard someone mutter.

Ronald remained silent, probably harboring similar thoughts.

Disappointed, I left the police station, feeling like I'd lost a part of myself. My spirit almost shattered. Perhaps I wouldn't last long enough to see the day the truth came to light.

murder? Who was the father of my child? As a dead woman, who would bother

I saw Max deep in conversation over the phone, his expression

6088. We can't make out the face, but we got a back view of someone entering the room." Presidential Suite 6088! That was the room number

Max

Could

felt like a glimmer of hope as if Max might help me find out who the father of my child was and why

mystery seemed to deepe

I went to his grand office building, a place I had never been allowed to visit in life

observe in

next to Claude, a

a video conference, Claude silently gestured for Kate to review the document Ronald

second thought, Kate opened the document but blanched at its

was stunned Why didn't

know I was dead?