Chapter 125

Preston casually replied, "I'm here as a kitchen helper. The pay is 30 Epean dollars an hour. It's a good deal."

The organizer provided all participating designers with lunch boxes. Meals were prepared according to each designer's nationality and tastes. It was logical to hire many people for such a huge and complicated task.

Cynthia looked at Preston with appreciation. "It's quite amazing," she said. "You take every opportunity to make money."

Preston chuckled, scratching the back of his head.

Annie asked curiously, "Cynthia, is what you said online true? Were you really switched at birth with the daughter of a rich family?"

Cynthia nodded in confirmation.

Annie huffed indignantly. "They really went too far! They didn't give you anything, but they used your talent to gain fame. Cynthia…" She paused, unable to finish, thinking, I feel so sorry for her. Her family is just using her!

Cynthia, seeming to read Annie's mind, smiled brightly. "Don't look at me like that. I can inherit 20 percent of Jones Group's shares—no, it should be 40 percent now."

She explained her bet with Shirley. Annie and Preston were shocked, but quickly recovered, giving Cynthia a thumbs-up in admiration. No wonder Shirley had been so angry. She'd lost 20 percent of her shares.

After dinner, they parted ways. Cynthia had booked her return flight. Preston and Annie were reluctant to see her go.

Annie asked sadly, "Cynthia, will I see you again?"

Cynthia smiled. "Transportation is very advanced now. If you come back to Clusia, you're more than welcome to hang out with me."

Annie smiled and agreed.

"What about me?" Preston interjected.

"What about you?" Cynthia asked, momentarily confused.

"Am I welcome?"

Cynthia chuckled. Perhaps spurred by the evening's events and a little alcohol, she did something she'd wanted to do since meeting him. She stepped forward, stood on her toes, and ruffled his fluffy blond hair. "Of course, you're welcome," she said with a smile.

Preston froze slightly at her touch but didn't flinch, even lowering his head slightly. His hair was very fluffy and soft, just as she'd imagined.

For some reason, when she looked at Preston, she always thought of Jonathan. His face reminded her of a teenage Jonathan. There's always a resemblance between handsome guys.

Cynthia sighed inwardly. She missed the adorable Jonathan from their first meeting—much cuter than his current aloof and arrogant self. Then, turning and waving, she said, "See you later, both of you."

Chapter 123

The next morning, Cynthia boarded her flight home. After more than ten hours, she landed in Clusia at noon. She grabbed a quick bite at the airport and took a taxi to Hector's private hospital.

The results should have been available much earlier, but Hector hadn't told her, knowing she'd ask upon her return.

Cynthia went to his office, following her familiar path.

Hector, sitting and reading, pushed up his gold-rimmed glasses when he saw her. "Are you here for the report?" he asked.

Cynthia nodded. He retrieved a file and handed it to her.

She hesitated momentarily before taking the report and turning to the last page, which contained the results: "The alleged mother lacks the genetic markers that must be inherited from the biological mother. Therefore, the probability of maternity is 0%."

A wave of pain washed over Cynthia, like a knife finally falling. Although she'd anticipated the result, the shock was still profound.

Without expression, she replaced the report in the file and looked at Hector. "Thank you, Dr. Xenos," she said. Noticing her expression, he asked, "Is there something you want to tell me?"

Cynthia shook her head. "I don't know where to start. I need to process things first."

Hector nodded. "Sure. Call me if you need me."

Stepping out of the hospital, Cynthia gazed at the bright sun, yet felt cold and desolate. She wasn't related to Rachel by blood; Rachel wasn't her biological mother. She tried to understand, but couldn't. However, she was sure Rachel must have known she wasn't her biological daughter; otherwise, she wouldn't have mentioned their blood types.

There was only one possibility: when Dennis switched the babies, it wasn't just one pair. The victims could have been three, four, five, or more families. It was incredibly complicated, and Dennis, the only one who knew the truth, was dead.

For the first time, Cynthia felt utterly lost. She'd hoped Rachel would be her biological mother, providing at least one familial bond. This hope had intensified after learning Rachel hadn't abandoned her intentionally. At least, she'd known someone who wouldn't give up on her. She didn't believe a mother would abandon her child, just as Selena hadn't abandoned Shirley, despite her flaws.

Now, however, Cynthia felt completely adrift. She was neither Selena's nor Rachel's daughter. Countless bonds existed in the world, yet none connected to her.

Thousands of homes were brightly lit, families gathered, but none were hers. She felt utterly alone, a profound loneliness eroding her.

That afternoon, she walked the busy city streets, a ghost in a sea of people.