Chapter 545 - 141 Stolen Memories Return

Chapter 545: Chapter 141 Stolen Memories Return

Lila’s POV

Sleep had abandoned me completely throughout the night. My mind churned endlessly over the revelations about our family’s dark secrets. Despite the blood ties being questioned, these people remained my family in every way that mattered—my heart belonged entirely to the Sullivan dynasty. The kitchen was shrouded in early morning silence as I nursed my coffee, finding solace in the familiar ritual. Everyone else was still asleep, giving me precious time to prepare something special for Dad and Beckett. If I was struggling to process these shocking discoveries about our family’s criminal empire, they must be suffering even more—Beckett had lost his mother because of that treacherous woman’s machinations.

"I can practically hear those wheels spinning from across the room, little one," Daniel’s voice startled me from my troubled thoughts.

He stood silhouetted in the doorway, devastatingly handsome despite the early hour. His black pants and loose white shirt somehow managed to accentuate every powerful muscle without clinging too tightly—the perfect picture of controlled strength that made my pulse quicken.

"There’s just so much to digest, Daniel. Everything about our family’s business feels like some twisted nightmare."

He approached with that predatory grace I’d grown to love, casually lifting my mug and drinking from it. "Hey! That’s mine," I protested playfully, desperate to lighten the oppressive atmosphere weighing down on us.

"You can have it back," he murmured seductively, dropping to his knees between my legs and capturing my lips with his.

The kiss was both tender and demanding, warm and intoxicating, tasting of rich coffee mingled with his natural masculine essence that always drove me wild.

"I think I want all my coffee served this way from now on," I whispered breathlessly when we parted, delighting in the satisfied smile that curved his lips.

"Ahem!" Beckett’s voice cut through our intimate moment from the doorway. "Do you mind not consuming my little sister like she’s your personal breakfast?"

"Actually, I do mind the interruption," Daniel replied without missing a beat, pulling me closer against his chest and pressing a possessive kiss to the crown of my head.

"At least you two kept the noise down last night," Beckett teased mercilessly, making heat flame across my cheeks.

"Only because Nathaniel’s home and I respect the old man," Daniel shot back, continuing their familiar verbal sparring that had become routine.

"Move over and let me properly greet my sister." Beckett nudged Daniel’s leg with his foot, grinning.

These two had developed such an easy brotherhood over the months, teasing each other like blood relatives despite their vastly different backgrounds in law enforcement and organized crime. Daniel squeezed me tighter before reluctantly releasing me, while Beckett made an exaggerated show of rolling his eyes at the display. I stood to embrace my brother properly, needing that familial connection.

"Did you manage any sleep at all?" Beckett asked, still holding me close with protective concern.

"Not even a minute," I admitted honestly.

Every time I’d closed my eyes, haunting images of Beckett’s mother flooded my mind—that beautiful woman with her gentle features and loving gaze that Beckett had described so often. He’d always painted such vivid pictures of what an incredible mother she’d been, and I’d secretly harbored deep envy over his experience with genuine maternal love.

In my most private moments, I used to fantasize about being her daughter instead, receiving the same tenderness and unconditional affection she’d showered on Beckett. Now, with our family’s criminal foundation crumbling so dramatically around us, I found myself mourning a connection that had never truly existed. If I had actually been her biological daughter, I would have known a mother’s pure love, even if only briefly. She would have cherished me while carrying me beneath her heart for those precious months. But reality proved far crueler than any childhood fantasy could prepare me for.

"I didn’t get much rest either," Beckett confessed, pressing a gentle kiss to my forehead before stepping back. "But I’m absolutely starving, and that incredible spread you’ve prepared reminds me of grandma’s Sunday dinners. You even made her famous chocolate carrot cake!"

"Grandma taught me so many of her secret recipes. I miss her wisdom every single day," I said wistfully, remembering the woman who’d raised me with such care despite the family’s dark business.

"She’s watching over our family now, along with my mother," Beckett smiled softly, though pain flickered in his dark eyes. "Come on, let’s eat before I waste away." He headed toward the formal dining room with his characteristic humor.

"Shouldn’t we wait for everyone else to join us?" I called after him. Family meals had always been sacred in our household—something I’d learned from my grandmother’s teachings about maintaining unity despite our dangerous lifestyle. Yet Beckett, with his bottomless appetite and mysteriously perfect metabolism, was already eyeing the elaborate breakfast spread.

"They’re already gathering," he shouted back knowingly.

After we’d finished eating, we reconvened in the living room to continue yesterday’s devastating revelations. I could sense they were still withholding crucial information from me, and their obvious reluctance only heightened my anxiety.

"This Tiffany woman embezzled quite a substantial sum from the family’s legitimate businesses," I observed, reviewing the damning financial documents spread across the coffee table like evidence in a federal case.

"Yes, and I need an exceptional lawyer to untangle this mess and track down those offshore accounts," Beckett sighed heavily, rubbing his face with obvious exhaustion.

"I know just the person for this kind of work," Daniel offered immediately. "He’s the absolute best at handling organized crime financial cases."

"And what else did this woman document in her private diary?" I pressed insistently, trying to extract the information they were clearly hesitant to share with me.

"Lila, Tiffany was discovered dead—drowned in Crest Lake under suspicious circumstances," Beckett explained with obvious reluctance. "Her diary explicitly mentions Claire making repeated threats against her life. We also found several threatening communications in the storage facility—all typed and printed professionally, nothing handwritten that could be traced. But we discovered something even more damaging: a digital recorder containing audio of their final conversation. Tiffany was actively blackmailing Claire, demanding increasing sums and threatening to expose everything to federal authorities. Claire warned her the extortion would end permanently and that Tiffany would deeply regret crossing our family."

"So Claire actually murdered Tiffany?" I asked, stunned by the brutal implications of our family’s criminal activities.

"It certainly appears that way, but there’s no definitive legal proof that would hold up in court," Daniel replied carefully. "Tiffany’s death was officially ruled accidental by the coroner, though her sister maintains that Tiffany was absolutely terrified of water and never learned to swim."

"We also recovered these photograph albums from the storage unit." Daniel placed two worn leather albums on the coffee table with ceremonial gravity. "Claire appears prominently in every single image."

Dad picked up the albums and began examining the faded photographs with intense concentration. "Yes, that’s definitely Claire in this one," he confirmed grimly, pointing to a woman in one vintage photo. "And this man here is Connor," he added, indicating a figure standing beside her with obvious familiarity.

"There was also jewelry recovered, Nathaniel," Daniel said solemnly, producing an ornate wooden box. "Some pieces looked surprisingly familiar to me from family descriptions."

Dad opened the box with trembling hands and carefully inspected each precious item. He lifted a delicate ring, studying it with intense focus—an exquisite white gold band encircled with diamonds and crowned with a stunning oval topaz that caught the morning light.

"I never thought I’d see this again," he whispered, tears glistening in his weathered eyes. "I searched desperately for this ring after my wife’s murder. This is the engagement ring I personally designed for her—the very first piece I ever created specifically for her beautiful hands. It vanished completely after she was killed." He showed us two tiny engraved initials hidden inside the delicate band.

"Do you recognize the other jewelry pieces?" Daniel asked with gentle respect.

"Every single one," Dad confirmed, wiping away tears that spoke of decades of grief. "They all belonged to my beloved wife. Some were gifts I designed and crafted myself—each piece bears my distinctive maker’s mark."

"Then they rightfully belong back with you," Daniel said with quiet authority, gesturing toward the precious collection.

"Would you mind if I took a moment alone?" Dad asked, visibly shaken by the emotional weight of recovering these treasured memories. "I need some time to process this."

"Of course, Dad," I reached for his arm, wishing desperately I could absorb some of his profound pain.

"Take all the time you need, Nathaniel. This is your home," Daniel replied with warm understanding.

After Dad left the room with his wife’s recovered jewelry, I couldn’t contain my burning curiosity any longer. This question had tormented me throughout the sleepless night, and I demanded answers.

"So who exactly is Justin’s biological father?" I demanded sharply, looking between Beckett and Daniel with growing frustration. "Why won’t either of you tell me the truth?"

"It’s not that we’re deliberately refusing to tell you..." Beckett began awkwardly, glancing at Daniel for moral support in this delicate conversation.

"Tiny one, this particular revelation will make you absolutely furious," Daniel warned with obvious concern for my emotional state.

"Lila, it makes perfect sense now—I keep wondering how our family never recognized it before," Beckett added with growing certainty. "Justin is his father’s exact duplicate in every detail, down to the smallest facial features."

"But shouldn’t Dad confirm everything with comprehensive DNA testing?" I pressed urgently. "What if everything documented in this diary is elaborate lies designed to destroy our family?" Part of me desperately wanted it all to be fabricated—not for Claire’s sake, but to spare Dad additional heartbreak.

"He’ll absolutely take the test for legal certainty," Beckett assured me firmly, "but I honestly don’t believe the diary contains lies. You’ll understand completely when you know the full truth. Maybe it’s better if you read everything yourself and draw your own conclusions."

I nodded with grim determination. I needed to see every piece of evidence they’d uncovered with my own eyes—no matter how devastating the truth might prove to be for our family’s future.