The resort’s bar had the kind of understated class that made it the perfect escape. Soft music drifted through the air, the lighting cast everything in a warm glow, and the place was dotted with sleek cats weaving between barstools. Each wore a tiny black-and-white bowtie at its neck, as if they too were staff. The bartenders moved with practiced elegance, their smiles polite and never intrusive, keeping the atmosphere both welcoming and discreet.
When Emily Blair arrived, a small crowd had already gathered, but the bar retained its hushed, serene vibe.
She spotted Benjamin Gomez and Juliana Silva tucked away in a quiet corner. Emily chose a seat at the bar, somewhere she could keep an unobstructed view of the room.
Vanguard Automotive's rep had assured her that any expenses here would be covered by the company. With that in mind, Emily ordered a low-alcohol cocktail and sipped, lost in thought.
To prove whether Juliana Silva was actually Isabella Austin, she’d need a DNA test—either matching Juliana with Isabella’s parents or with Dennis Lane.
The plan was clear. Now she just needed to collect something usable for a DNA sample from Juliana: a strand of hair, a drop of blood—anything that would do.
“Hey there, sweetheart. Fancy seeing you here.”
A teasing voice brushed her ear, its tone laced with mischief.
Emily turned, finding Larkin Porter—tall, blond, blue-eyed—sliding onto the barstool beside her, drink in hand.
“Hello,” Emily greeted him politely.
Leaning back against the bar, Larkin twirled his wineglass and grinned. “Or, as you folks in Eldervale would say, we must have some kind of fate. Of all the gin joints, right?”
Emily smiled. “Most people are here tonight.”
He chuckled, voice low. “Yeah, but when I walked in, you were the only one I saw. That’s got to mean something.”
She shrugged, teasing back, “Maybe because I’m sitting right by the door. First thing anyone sees when they walk in is me.”

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