Delilah Tomson Point of View
“Delilah ! My connection at the hospital just gave me the worst news you can hear today . ” Rosaline’s voice trembles with disbelief. “Emily… has delivered. Three healthy babies. Triplets. All of them survived.” The words hit me like a slap across the face. I can feel my pulse pounding in my temples, rage bubbling inside me like a volcano ready to erupt. I grip the edge of my dressing table so hard my nails dig into the polished wood. “What?” I whisper, my voice barely audible over the storm building within me. “I am so sorry, Delilah. ” Rosaline murmurs, her tone laced with sympathy. “Everything we feared , it is happening.” I stare into the mirror in front of me, barely recognizing the furious woman reflected back. My lipstick is smudged, my perfectly curled hair in disarray, and my eyes ,those once confident, dazzling green eyes are now wild with disbelief and fury. All of this… for nothing? I gave up everything for this plan. I pressed pause on my rising career, I poured thousands into that worthless surrogate, and I carried the lie of a fake pregnancy with grace and conviction. I played the part so well. And now… it is all unraveling. I slam my palm against the mirror. The sound cracks through the air, but not the glass. Damn it. “ How does Emily keep winning ? ” I snarl. “How does she always come out on top?” She does not deserve this life: the successful husband, the wealth and the perfect family. That was supposed to be mine. That should have been mine from the very beginning. “Rosaline,” I breathe, clutching the phone tightly. “It is time to implement the backup plan.” There is a long pause on the other end. “Delilah, if we go through with this, there is no turning back. You know that, right?” “I know,” I say, my voice as cold as steel. “We have come too far to lose everything now. If Emily thinks she has won, then she has not met the new version of us.” There is a dark silence between us, and then Rosaline responds with finality. “Alright. Let’s end this.” Nurse Nancy’s Point of View Most days, my job as a nurse brings me peace. Every time I hand a mother her newborn, I feel a glimmer of hope that maybe my life still has purpose. But yesterday was different. Yesterday, when I handed those triplets to Emily Jacobs… something stirred in me. It was as though a bond had been forged , one that I did not ask for but could not deny. Especially with the girls. Their tiny hands, their curious eyes… it was love at first sight. Not the kind of love a nurse is supposed to feel. No. This was something else. Something maternal. Something primal. I lingered longer than I should have in Emily’s room, adjusting blankets, checking vitals that did not need checking. I just wanted to be near them. If only for a few more minutes. “Please, Nancy. Go home and get some rest,” my supervisor gently scolds as she finds me back in the nursery again. “Your shift ended two hours ago.” I nod reluctantly, but inside I ache. Going home means facing silence. Emptiness. The reminder that I have lost everything: my husband, my chances of being a mother, and the dream of family. All I have now are hospital walls and the babies of strangers to hold me together. I open my mouth to beg for just one more hour just a little more time to sit beside Emily’s girls when a shrill alarm blares through the hospital corridors. “Emergency! All staff and patients must evacuate immediately! The fire has spread to the maternity wing! I repeat, evacuate the building through the designated emergency exits!” Panic breaks out. Nurses and doctors flood the hallways, wheeling beds and carrying infants in every direction. But I do not move with them. My heart drops. Emily’s triplets. I race down the corridor, past frantic mothers and screaming children, ignoring the smoke that is already beginning to seep through the ceiling vents. The maternity wing is blanketed in chaos. I shield my nose and mouth with a towel and push forward, coughing as the smoke thickens. I reach Emily’s private room, only to find the door locked. I kick it open with all my strength and stagger inside, praying the babies are okay. The cries hit me instantly. But there are only two. The twin girls are there screaming, red-faced, wrapped in blankets in the bassinet. But there is no sign of the boy. And no sign of Emily. What happened here? Why would a mother leave behind her babies? I scoop the girls into my arms, one on each side, and push through the smoke-choked hallway, trying to shield their faces as best I can. The building groans above me, and alarms continue to blare as sprinklers finally begin to spray overhead. Emily left them. She ran with the boy… and left these two angels to die? Tears burn in my eyes, but not from the smoke. From rage. From heartbreak. These little girls were left behind like discarded baggage. I can not stop thinking about it. What kind of mother does that ? Outside, nurses rush to receive us, taking babies from my arms, but I hold on tight. I will not let go. Not yet. Not after what I saw. Not after what I feel. “Ma’am, will take them .” one of the hospital staff reaches for the twins. “No,” I say, shielding them instinctively. “I will watch them until their mother is found.” But the words feel like a lie as soon as they leave my mouth. Because I know now what I did not know before. Emily Jacobs doe not deserve these babies. She left them behind in a fire. I do not care what her reasons were—fear, panic, whatever excuse she will make ,it does not matter. She abandoned them. And I saved them. These girls were meant to be mine. I walk away from the crowd, clutching the two tiny bundles to my chest as they quiet in my arms. As if they know. As if they trust me. As if they belong here. With me. I will not let her take them back. I will not hand them over to a woman who sees her children as disposable. I will raise them. I will be their mother . And no one ,not even God himself can stop me now .Emily’s Point of ViewSome victories are quiet, sipped with wine and savored like secrets…The moonlight spilled into my penthouse like a quiet celebration, casting a silver sheen over the marble floor. I sat on the velvet armchair near the balcony, barefoot, a half-empty glass of cabernet in hand, the taste lingering on my tongue like the satisfaction I felt blooming in my chest.Dinner had gone better than I expected—far better.Jackson, the man who once vowed to love me forever, had smiled at me tonight with a sparkle in his eyes, completely unaware that the woman he had once betrayed stood before him in a new skin. A new name. A new life.Amara.He had said it over and over again during dinner. “Amara is brilliant.” “Amara is exactly the kind of investor I’ve been praying for.” “Amara has grace, intelligence, vision…”I nearly laughed. The irony was delicious.And Delilah?Oh, Delilah had squirmed in her seat.She tried to hide it , tried to hold onto her composure as she passed
Delilah’s Point of ViewSuspicion is the beginning of unraveling secrets…The walls of this mansion feel colder than usual tonight.Dinner had barely ended, but my thoughts are still stuck on that woman—Amara. She walked into my home like she owned the air we breathed. The way Jackson looked at her, the way he smiled, his eyes lighting up like a teenage boy seeing his celebrity crush for the first time ,it made my stomach turn.Her presence was commanding, her words calculated and smooth. She did not speak much, but when she did, it was enough to slice right through me. And then she said it , that little comment disguised as idle curiosity.“You look so much like the woman who owns the penthouse across from mine… you must get that a lot.”I smiled, of course. I had to. But inside? I was burning. My hands nearly crushed the ceramic salad bowl I was holding. Who did she think she was? Was that supposed to be a joke? A threat? A warning?Because if it was… it worked.As soon as dinner en
Emily’s Point of ViewThe black town car pulls up to the driveway of the mansion I once called home. I pause before stepping out, gazing through the tinted window at the grand estate. Time has not aged it—the architecture remains pristine, the lawn perfectly trimmed, and the stone lions on either side of the gate still stare with their cold, majestic presence. But the garden…That garden used to bloom with life.It had once been the centerpiece of the house, the first thing guests admired. A mix of wildflowers and roses danced in the breeze like children playing under a summer sun. I remember Jackson placing a small fountain there , he said it would be the heart of our family memories. I used to picture our children running around the garden, laughter echoing while Jackson and I watched from the porch, sipping lemonade.But now, the flowers are dull, overgrown in some parts, missing in others. The fountain is dry and cracked at the edges, a forgotten relic. It is like the life we plan
Delilah Tomson’s Point of View “She stole the crown, but it never fit quite right.” My heels clicked sharply against the marble floor as I paced the living room, my perfectly manicured fingers clenching and unclenching at my sides. Tonight was supposed to be for us , me and Elijah. Wine, silk sheets, laughter that was not forced. But no, King Jackson had other plans. Just as I was slipping into my red satin dress, his call came in: “Be home. I am bringing a guest. Dinner must be ready by seven.” Not a question. A command. And when Jackson commands, I obey or face the consequences. So now, instead of being in my lover’s arms, I was in this cold palace I used to dream about, setting plates for a man who no longer looked at me the way he once did. As I arranged the final fork on the table, I heard the front door open. His footsteps echoed in the grand foyer, full of a
Emily’s Point of View “The game has begun.” It has been a week since I set foot on the same soil that stole everything from me . In that time, I have remained hidden, carefully orchestrating every step like a master puppeteer pulling strings from the shadows . The ruined hospital, once a graveyard of my dreams, is now rising again brick by brick under my direction. The permits, the funding, the renovations… all handled discreetly under my foundation’s name, with no connection to my former identity. No one knows who is behind this sudden act of philanthropy, and that is exactly how I want it. Let the city speculate. While rebuilding from the ashes, I have also been watching the snake who slithered into my life and destroyed it , Delilah Tomson. Her penthouse, just across from mine makes surveillance easy. I have studied her routine, her visitors, her weaknesses. And then I saw him tall,
“Ten years later, the fire still burns but this time, she is the spark.” Emily’s Point of View Ten years later, I return to the city that buried my happiness in smoke and silence. This is the place where my dreams collapsed and my soul fractured but I have come back stronger . I step out of the airport into a breeze that bites at my skin. It is different now—colder, sharper. Like the city itself knows I have returned with a vengeance. A mother scorned. A woman reborn . Gone is the meek, weeping Emily Jacobs. In her place stands someone new , untouchable , mysterious , and powerful. My name has changed. My face has changed. But the rage? That has only deepened with time. They will not see me coming. Not Delilah. Not Jackson. Not anyone who played a part in my suffering. My first stop ? The graveyard of my past—St. Grace Memorial Hospital. The place where my babies were bor