Chapter 270

Olivia acknowledged his request with a slow nod. She'd planned to visit Alistair sooner, but between recent events and her own health complications, time had slipped away. Her doctor had insisted on complete bed rest, and she'd promised herself she'd go see Alistair the moment she regained her strength.

Yet the prospect of facing Alistair filled Olivia with equal parts longing and dread after everything that had transpired. "Mr. Kensington," she signed carefully, "I'm deeply grateful for your kindness these past weeks, and I understand your hopes for Alistair's recovery. But I'm almost certain I'm not his biological granddaughter. If this truth emerges, it could devastate him. Perhaps I could visit under another pretense?"

Her concern for Alistair was genuine.

Donovan studied Olivia, his expression shifting through a spectrum of unreadable emotions.

While contemporary DNA tests might struggle to confirm their relation without Olivia's parents, Donovan had access to private medical facilities that could provide definitive answers if he pursued them.

Donovan knew Liam's theory held weight. Olivia was indeed part of the Kensington bloodline. She was his aunt's child.

He suspected Olivia entertained doubts about her origins but found the potential truth too overwhelming to accept.

With his aunt gone and the full story lost to time, Donovan clung to the hope that clarity would eventually prevail.

"Discussing this with Alistair wouldn't change anything," Donovan finally responded, his gestures carrying both understanding and quiet resignation. "Let's allow events to unfold naturally. I won't hold it against you if you're not my cousin. Everyone's journey is their own."

Relieved by Donovan's response, Olivia didn't press the matter further.

Following the housekeeper through the grand corridors, Olivia approached Alistair's private quarters. The hauntingly familiar strains of a piano concerto stopped her in her tracks, transporting her back to their first encounter.

The housekeeper whispered that before assuming control of the family empire, Alistair had been the Kensington family's most gifted artist. Had fate taken a different turn, he might have become one of the nation's most celebrated musicians.

Moved by the soul-stirring melody, Olivia chose not to interrupt, settling silently in an alcove to listen.

As the final notes faded, Alistair seemed to sense her presence. He turned with a knowing smile, his aged eyes locking onto hers. "Do you recognize this composition?" he asked, his voice carrying the weight of decades.

Olivia startled, instinctively pointing to herself in question.

Alistair confirmed with a nod before transitioning seamlessly into sign language, creating an intimate bridge between them.

His hands moved with practiced grace as he signed: "My memory has returned. I saw you first at the Hartley gala. Though my mind was clouded then, I felt an immediate connection to you—a warmth I couldn't explain. After returning home, I couldn't shake the conviction that you're Vivienne's daughter. The more I pondered it, the more certain I became."

Olivia's hands flew to her lips in shock. She gestured toward his ears, signing her surprise at his fluent sign language and recalling he'd worn hearing aids during their initial meeting.