The Vanishing Heiress

Chapter 21

It had been years since Megan Sullivan heard that word directed at her.

"Thank you. I'll come back if I need another session. Your work is excellent—I'll recommend you to friends."

Megan flashed the white girl a bright smile, answering in flawless English.

As she stepped out of the tattoo parlor, the wind chimes on the rotating glass door tinkled softly.

She glanced back once.

For a fleeting moment, she thought she saw a blurred version of herself waving goodbye.

Farewell.

Megan mouthed the word silently.

From now on, she would only move forward—never looking back.

Capital City

Time flew like an arrow.

Six years passed in the blink of an eye.

Ethan Sterling and the Montgomery family still had no leads on Megan's whereabouts.

Even with their immense influence in the city, if someone truly wanted to disappear, they could.

Especially when that someone had been taken in by the National Institute of Classified Sciences.

Sterling Group Headquarters

Ethan had visibly withered over the years.

His office phone rang—a rare occurrence. These days, calls to his direct line meant only two things: either they'd found Megan, or it was the prison.

He prayed for the former.

Rubbing his tired temples, he picked up.

"Mr. Sterling, Miss Rachel's mental state has deteriorated. She's become erratic, even violent. The prison doctor recommends transferring her to a psychiatric facility. Your thoughts?"

The warden's voice was cautious.

"Is it real this time, or another act?" Ethan's patience was thin.

Two years ago, Rachel had faked insanity once already.

"It's genuine. We ran thorough evaluations."

"Fine. I'll arrange transport."

He hung up without another word.

For six years, he'd made sure Rachel received special treatment in prison—the same kind of torment Megan had endured.

The Montgomerys never objected.

After that day six years ago, they'd disowned Rachel completely.

Such was the cruelty of human nature.

Megan might have pitied her—if she ever knew.

But…

Ethan's gaze dropped to the photo on his desk.

In it, Megan looked painfully thin, her clothes wrinkled, her expression hollow.

"Where are you, Megan? I know true apology means making everyone suffer like you did. But if you never come back… how can I ever repay you?"

His fingers traced the image of her face, regret and loneliness crushing him.

Meanwhile, Megan had already returned to the city.

After completing her classified mission ahead of schedule, she'd been granted freedom to pursue her own interests.

So she became an artist.

This time, she arrived with the renowned art agent, Mr. Louis Roe.

Megan—now going by Sophia Quinn—was a rising star in the art world.

Her paintings auctioned internationally for no less than $5,000.

At the airport, Officer Chen greeted her.

"Half a year apart, and you've tanned," he teased.

"It's a healthy glow," she countered.

True, the last six months had bronzed her skin.

After being discovered by Louis while selling sketches on the streets, she'd spent months at sea—painting oceans, skies, volcanoes.

Her landscapes carried a serene, almost mystical quality.

Vibrant yet enigmatic.

"I've got a banquet tonight, but dinner's on me tomorrow," she told Officer Chen before parting.

"Deal." He smiled, relieved.

Time truly was the best healer. In just months, Megan had been reborn.

Though now, she answered to a different name—Sophia Quinn, the celebrated artist.

Mandarin Oriental Hotel

Ethan only attended this "welcome banquet for art's rising star" as a courtesy to a business partner.

But when his eyes met the guest of honor across the room—

His champagne flute slipped from his hand, shattering on the floor.

For a second, he thought he was hallucinating.

"Megan?"

He stared, unblinking, at her profile.

Louis noticed the intensity of his gaze. "Sophia, do you know him?" He nudged her toward Ethan.

Megan's brow furrowed as she scanned Ethan head to toe.

"No," she answered flatly.

Ethan's instinct was to stride forward—but he forced himself still.

"I'm Ethan Sterling. You're Megan Sullivan. How can you not know me?"

She tilted her chin up, regal and aloof.

"You're mistaken, sir. My surname is Quinn."