Because according to every official report, the fire had happened years before Elira was even born.

The billionaire father staggered backward, staring first at his daughter, then at the poor boy.

“What did she say?” one doctor asked, his voice shaking.

The boy finally looked up.

His eyes were full of fear, but also certainty.

“She remembers,” he said quietly. “I told you she would.”

Mr. Voss grabbed the edge of his desk to stay standing. “Who are you?”

The boy swallowed hard and pointed at the teddy bear.

“My mother made that toy,” he said. “For her real daughter.”

The study fell into dead silence.

One of the older doctors suddenly went pale, as if a secret he had buried for years had just clawed its way back to life.

Mr. Voss turned slowly toward him.

The doctor could barely breathe.

“There was… another child,” he whispered.

The billionaire’s face changed from confusion to horror.

Years ago, the mansion fire had not only taken a woman’s life.

It had hidden a lie.

The sick girl everyone called Elira had survived because someone had switched the children that night.

And the poor boy standing in front of them?

He wasn’t a stranger.

He was the only witness left.