Charles had loved Ingrid. He still loved her.
And the pain on his face now—the raw, naked devastation that twisted his features—was unbearable to watch.
The realization that Ingrid had been killed by someone she trusted… someone she loved… someone who shared her blood…
It killed Sera.
Her fingers twitched at her sides. She almost stepped forward. Almost reached for him.
But the crowd pressed around them from all sides. Not one person in that gathering had a neutral face.
Shock.
Disgust.
Horror.
The truth was spilling out piece by ugly piece and no one was prepared for the smell of it.
Vivienne, however, looked like a woman drowning in madness. "I didn't switch the babies. Delilah is your daughter!" Vivienne shouted.
Her hair had come loose from its pins, strands clinging wildly to her tear-streaked face.
"So why did you ask Mr Harrington to change the DNA results?" Eric asked.
But Vivienne didn't even look at him.
Her entire world had shrunk down to one person.
