Chapter 453

Margaret Sinclair had finally accepted that the old man had no intention of forming any bond with her. Her plan had failed spectacularly. Now, she contemplated finding his family - or better yet, dumping him right back where she'd found him on the streets.

As far as she was concerned, she'd already gone above and beyond for this senile old fool. She'd housed him, fed him gourmet meals, and even tolerated his nonsensical ramblings for weeks.

Sitting heavily on the velvet couch, Margaret pulled out the jade pendant, turning it between her fingers with greedy fascination. "What secrets do you hold?" she murmured. "I wonder what price you'd fetch at auction..."

With startling agility, Alistair Kensington snatched the pendant from her grasp. His clouded eyes cleared momentarily as he clutched the jade to his chest. "Seraphina," he whispered hoarsely. "My precious granddaughter..."

Margaret's temper ignited like dry tinder. She shoved the old man violently, her voice sharp as broken glass. "How dare you! That belongs to me!"

Alistair staggered but maintained his iron grip on the pendant, his arthritic fingers refusing to relinquish their treasure.

A calculating gleam entered Margaret's eyes as she observed his reaction. She forced sweetness into her tone. "You recognize this heirloom, don't you?"

The old man nodded slowly, his voice thick with emotion. "I gave this to my granddaughter... my shining star..."

Margaret studied the vacant expression creeping back into Alistair's eyes. The gears of her mind turned rapidly. With practiced ease, she conjured tears and adopted a wounded expression. "Grandfather," she whispered brokenly, "don't you recognize your own granddaughter?"

Alistair blinked at her with heartbreaking confusion. "Seraphina? Is it really you?"

Margaret reached for the pendant still clutched in his hands. "Of course it's me. Why else would I have your family heirloom?" Her voice dripped with manufactured hurt. "You've been gone so long... I've searched every corner of Newport for you."

Doubt flickered across the old man's weathered face. Something about this reunion felt... wrong. The memories slipped through his fingers like morning mist.

Seeing his hesitation, Margaret bit her lip hard enough to draw real tears. "After everything I've done to care for you," she sobbed, "you still don't remember me? I just want to go home, Grandfather. Take me home to the Kensington estate."

The sight of her tears broke through Alistair's confusion. His shoulders slumped in surrender. "Very well," he sighed. "We'll return to the Kensington family. But first... I must visit an old friend."

Though his memories remained fragmented, the jade had triggered something deep within him. He vaguely recalled presenting this very pendant to his granddaughter, explaining it would serve as recognition among certain circles.

Try as he might, Alistair couldn't conjure his granddaughter's face - only the crushing guilt of having failed her.

Margaret quickly dabbed at her eyes and pulled out her smartphone, fingers flying across the screen as she searched "Kensington family." Her breath hitched as the search results loaded - sprawling estates, private jets, and billions in assets.

Then the realization struck like lightning - the real Seraphina Kensington was none other than Olivia Sinclair, the woman who'd publicly humiliated her at the Montecarlo charity gala last summer.