Forgotten Daughter, Unforgettable Comeback

As Elissa seethed barely beneath the surface, Lilah let out a contemptuous laugh and walked out of the Walsh Group as if the place bored her.

Outside the building, Lilah thumbed a number on her phone without hesitation. "Be ready to buy Walsh Group stock at a moment's notice," she ordered into the line.

She had done her homework: the Walsh Group's liquid reserves were under one hundred million, and extracting fifty million would cripple its cash flow. If the company's finances teetered, Lachlan would be forced to sell shares to steady the company—an opening she planned to exploit without mercy.

Those fools in the Walsh family thought she was penniless, her late mother's inheritance locked away. None of them had the slightest clue that she'd quietly amassed a sizeable block of Walsh Group shares on her own. Calling herself the third-largest shareholder wasn't empty bravado—it was the truth.

Meanwhile, sensing that something wasn't right, Lachlan immediately ordered an inquiry into the identity of the company's third-largest shareholder. Yet, the details were sealed under strict confidentiality, beyond his reach. A cold prickle of unease crept down his spine.

But he quickly consoled himself that he was merely overthinking it. How could Lilah, who'd spent her life in the countryside, possibly pull off something so elaborate? Even if Lilah truly were the third-largest shareholder of Walsh Group, it didn't matter. Once Elissa married Cayden, Lilah would be nothing more than a powerless nuisance—something easily crushed beneath their heels. He almost laughed at himself for letting that insolent brat rattle him at all.

Without wasting another second, Lachlan called Elissa.

Following Lachlan's orders, Elissa started haunting the entrance of the Spencer manor, hoping to bump into Ava.

Word was, Ava was Cayden's sole weakness. Elissa figured that if she could win Ava over, she'd not only secure the West District project but also lock in her place as Cayden's wife. Once that happened, she'd finally be free of the humiliating act of pretending to be Lachlan's legitimate child.

But after days of waiting without so much as a glimpse of Ava, irritation gnawed at Elissa.

Elissa was turning to leave when a slim figure rolled quietly out from the manor gates in a wheelchair.

Elissa's eyes gleamed with calculation, and she hurried forward. "Hello, Miss Spencer. I'm Elissa Walsh," she said in a practiced, sugary tone.

Ava recoiled inwardly at the intrusion; she had never liked strangers breaching her space. Yet, when Elissa's name reached her ears, something flickered in her gaze—Lilah had mentioned that name before.

Lifting a delicate hand, Ava traced a few words in Elissa's palm. "To your home."

Elissa went still for a heartbeat before her face lit up with excitement. "Of course! I will take you to my home right now!"

Though Elissa despised playing the servant—especially to someone confined to a wheelchair—she forced a sweet smile, fussing over Ava with exaggerated care. Every gesture dripped with false warmth, the kind reserved for people she secretly looked down on but needed to please.

Ava remained silent the entire way, her face an unreadable mask. The quiet only stoked Elissa's irritation, though she hid it behind her polished grin.

Halfway through the drive, Elissa's phone buzzed. A friend's name flashed on the screen, reminding her of the birthday party she'd been desperate to attend.

Elissa's brows pinched together. She'd clawed her way into that elite circle, and skipping the event could mean being shut out for good. Her gaze flicked toward Ava's calm figure, and a sudden idea bloomed. "Miss Spencer," she said brightly, "a friend of mine is celebrating her birthday tonight. Why don't we stop by together? Once it's over, I'll take you straight to my home..."

Inwardly, Elissa smirked. Showing up with Cayden's sister would instantly elevate her status. Those snobby socialites would be tripping over themselves to get close, and she wouldn't have to beg her way into their circle ever again.

Elissa's plan might have been perfect—if Ava hadn't flatly refused. The moment Elissa turned, Ava had already pushed the car door open and started maneuvering her wheelchair out on her own.

Elissa's jaw tightened in fury, but the icy authority radiating from Ava's calm face froze her in place. That quiet strength, inherited from growing up beside Cayden, made Elissa instinctively yield.

Before Elissa could react, Ava had already crossed the street, her wheelchair rolling steadily through the crowd.

Watching from the curb, Elissa's complexion drained of color. If Cayden's precious sister got hurt, she'd be finished. Panic clawed up her throat as she darted toward the intersection—only for the traffic light to flash red. Trapped at the curb, she could only stare as Ava vanished into the bustling street, her pulse hammering in dread.

Elissa's whole body shook uncontrollably. When her knees buckled, she crumpled to the ground, despair crashing over her. That was it for her. She was completely screwed!

Meanwhile, at the Spencer Group headquarters, Cayden sat at the head of the long conference table, his tailored suit as sharp as the glint in his cold eyes. The dull ache in his body only intensified the ruthless edge in his expression.

No one in the room dared to breathe too loudly; the silence was suffocating.

Then, his phone buzzed.

"Mr. Spencer." The trembling voice on the other end came. "Miss Spencer is missing!"