Chapter 427
“Is there anything new you can report to me right away?” Daven asked as he stepped into the conference room.
The Callister Group branch office in Mighatan felt different from the SunCity headquarters-leaner, more functional, stripped of the grandeur that usually surrounded the Callister name. This place had once been the company’s main office.
But as time passed and Daven spent more of his days in SunCity, everything shifted. The building was downsized to fit the needs of a branch office. No longer lavish, yet still respectable enough to reflect its influence.
Daven pulled out a chair at the head of the conference table. His blazer was draped neatly over the backrest, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbows. Across from him five regional directors waited with tablets and open
files.
“We can’t keep stalling the South Bay project,” one of them began. “The holding costs are too high. Investors are starting to question the lack of progress.”
Daven laced his fingers together, eyes fixed on the projected charts on the screen. “Is the main issue permits, or supply?”
“Both,” another director answered quickly. “But we have an option. A joint development scheme with a local contractor could cut nearly four months off the timeline.”
Daven raised an eyebrow. “Which local contractor? If you’re proposing this, give me the names.”
The company name was mentioned. Daven recognized it—not a major player but known for a clean reputation. They had consistently delivered solid results for Callister Group in the past.
“The risks?” he asked.
“Quality control,” the same director replied. “But we’re proposing direct supervision from the central team.” Daven nodded slowly. “That makes sense.”
The discussion continued-delayed apartment projects, an office tower requiring design revisions, and a mixed- use development at risk of losing its anchor tenant. Ideas flowed, some bold, some cautious. Daven listened, asked precise questions, and noted key points. His focus was sharp; he deliberately kept his thoughts from drifting back to SunCity.
“We’ll evaluate the joint development proposal,” he concluded. “I want a full financial impact simulation within twenty-four hours. No empty assumptions.”
“Yes, Mr. Daven.”
As the meeting was about to wrap up, his phone vibrated softly in his blazer pocket. Daven stared at the number on the screen longer than usual. He rarely received calls from unknown numbers. Still-
He was certain it was from the hospital.
Daven composed himself, finished his final sentence, then stood. “We’ll continue tomorrow,” he said curtly. ” Thank you.”
Once the conference room door closed behind him, he answered the call. “Yes.”
“Mr. Daven,” a professional voice said on the other end. “The test results are in.”
Daven closed his eyes briefly. “Send them now.”
He walked toward the window, gazing out at the dense trafic of Mighatan. Notifications came in one after another
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– not one, but several. Five attachments. Five different hospitals.
Deliberate.
He hadn’t wanted to rely on a single institution for something this critical. Daven opened the first file. Then the second. The third. His jaw tightened.
He reread everything-slowly, carefully, not missing a single detail. The percentage match. The methodology explanations. The digital signatures. All consistent.
“No,” he murmured. “This can’t be a coincidence.”
He opened the final attachment.
The result was the same.
Eli was not Chase Miller’s child.
The anger came without sound. Not an explosion-but a cold fury that sank straight into his bones. Daven drew a deep breath, then squeezed his eyes shut. His hand clenched, then relaxed again.
He was not a man who lost control. But a lie this meticulously constructed-was an insult.
“Five hospitals,” he murmured to himself. “And all of them say the same thing.”
His phone vibrated again. He tapped the call button, dialing the number that had just sent the results.
“Mr. Daven,” the voice came back on the line. “Do you require any additional clarification?”
“Yes,” Daven replied. “I need the testing records from each facility that conducted the DNA analysis. I’ll need them for another purpose.”
There was a brief pause. “Very well. We’ll prepare them immediately, per your request.”
Daven clenched his jaw. Eli was not Chase’s biological child There was no genetic connection to the Miller family. Her history-blank up to a certain age. Then Selena appeared, listed as her guardian. The adoption papers existed, legal and properly registered. Signed by the local court, clearly stating that the child had legally become part of the Ward family.
Selena Ward’s adopted child.
“Who are the biological parents?” Daven asked.
“They’re not listed, sir.”
“Not listed,” Daven repeated under his breath. “Or erased?
“That information is beyond our authority. We can only disclose records up to this point.”
“All right.” Daven pressed his fingers to his temple, leaning back against the chair, frustration weighing heavily on him. He ended the call, then immediately dialed another number. “I need a copy of Eli’s adoption documents.”
“Sir, those records are protected-”
“I know,” Daven cut in calmly, his tone deceptively dangerous. “And I also know how government systems work. I want the copies. Now.”
A long pause followed. Then, “We’ll try, sir.”
“Don’t try,” Daven corrected. “Do it. And I want this done.”
He ended the call again. The sheer audacity of the charade Selena and Eli had orchestrated stirred every restrained
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emotion in him. Since the moment that woman appeared, Cale had been right-something was always happening. And Daven refused to let this drag on any longer.
It didn’t take long before his phone chimed again. This time, a message came in—an attachment. Daven opened it.
A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
The document was legally sound. Valid. Indisputable. Even the timeline of the infant Selena had adopted was laid out clearly, from the very beginning.
“Remarkable,” Daven muttered as he continued scanning the file.
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