Isabel’s POVIt’s been a week since the police raided Cynthia’s hideout.And still, somehow, she manages to slip through their fingers.I sit quietly, mind far away from the cheerful chatter around me. I should be focused—there’s a wedding to plan, guests to invite, decisions to make—but my thoughts are stuck in the past week.Cynthia. Escaping.Again.She’s never struck me as the type to prepare this thoroughly. All her life, she’s acted on impulse, riding on emotion like it was a weapon. But this? It feels calculated. Too precise. The only person I ever thought might’ve helped her—James—was caught during the raid. Tried to run but didn’t get far. And yet, even in custody, he hasn’t said a word. Not a name. Not even a hint.And still, somehow, Cynthia manages to stay hidden.Still slips through every net they throw.How? Who else is helping her?The question loops endlessly in my mind.When the authorities asked if I had any information that might help them track her, I didn’t hesit
Cynthia’s POVI’m still looking down at the envelope in his hand, a soft smile tugging at my lips as he steps further into the room. It feels like something is finally falling into place. My mother’s eyes narrow with confusion from her spot close to me.“What’s that?” she asks, her voice sharp with suspicion.He stops in front of me, stretching the envelope out with both hands as if handing me something sacred. “Here, ma’am. The result you asked me to pick up from the hospital.”My fingers curl around the envelope almost too eagerly. I don’t wait. Not for her questions. Not for the tension simmering in the air. I tear it open, breath catching as I slide out the paper inside and raise it to my face.My smile fades.Not a match.My heart stutters. “Not a match?” I whisper, voice flat, disbelieving. I look up slowly, my head lifting toward my mother, whose face is already contorted with silent questions.“They’re not Alexander’s children,” I say quietly. “Scarlett and Sterling… they belo
Cynthia’s POV“How dare you, James!” I scream, storming toward him, my hands smacking against his chest in quick, hard bursts. “How dare you cause an accident for Alexander?” My breath comes in short, furious gaps as I continue hitting him, unable to stop. “What is wrong with you?!”James snaps.With one firm push, I stumble back a step, the shock rippling through my entire body. His voice comes out in a roar, raw and ragged.“Get out of it, Cynthia! Yes, I did it. I caused Alexander’s accident. But then what?”My heart stutters.James doesn’t stop. His voice crashes through the room like a thunderclap.“He’s the reason you never gave me the chance to be with my daughter! He’s the reason you never even told me I had a child! And now you and your mother are plotting against Isabel just so you can crawl your way back to him? Then what? You leave me again?” He shakes his head, wild eyes blazing. “No. That’s not happening again. So yes—he has to go.”“What?” The word falls from my lips, f
Alexander’s POVI still feel… lost.Isabel’s words haven’t stopped replaying in my head.They’re mine.Scarlett. Sterling. My children.My flesh and blood.The truth hits harder each time I let it settle. All this time—I’ve been in the dark. Watching them from a distance, thinking they belonged to someone else. To Roy. And she let me believe that. She looked me in the eye and let me think they weren’t mine. She must have hated me a lot to shut me out like that. And maybe… maybe she had every reason to.God, the way I treated her during our marriage.But still. Still.I—I don’t know.Frustration swells in my chest like a fire I can’t put out.Should I do what she asked—turn a blind eye? Stay away?But how can I?How can she tell me not to go near my own children after dropping that truth on me?Even without knowing, I’d always felt something—something magnetic about those kids. It was more than coincidence. I used to think I was losing my mind, hoping they were mine… only for reality t
Aria’s POVI wriggle out of his grip, wanting to put distance between us, but the movement throws me off balance. A wave of lightheadedness hits me—brief but strong enough to make me curse under my breath.My feet falter and I almost collide with the wall. Before I can steady myself, Collins is there again—his arm locking around my waist, holding me firm like he was prepared for this.I adjust myself quickly, clearing my throat as I push a strand of hair from my face. “Thanks,” I murmur, voice low and a little shaky, trying to compose myself. My tone is careful, clipped—polite, but distant.“Yeah,” he replies, eyes raking over me before shifting to glance down the hallway. “I never expected to see you here. Is anything the problem? Do you feel sick?”I look up at him, trying my best to look unbothered, calm. Like he isn’t the reason I’m standing here in the first place. If only he hadn’t answered that call. If only he hadn’t confessed how he felt, hadn’t kissed me that night. Then ma
Aria’s POVI haven’t been feeling like myself lately.The fatigue, the nausea, the strange sensitivity to smells—it’s been creeping in slowly, unsettling and unfamiliar. At first, I told myself it was just stress. Work’s been overwhelming, and maybe I’ve just been pushing too hard again. But now, there’s something deeper, something heavier sitting in my gut that won’t go away.Whatever it is, I need answers. Today.I slip on a hoodie, tug the cap lower over my forehead, and step into the hospital, the clean scent of antiseptic hitting me hard. My sneakers echo down the hallway as I make my way toward Dr. Maynard’s office. I keep my head down, hoping no one notices me. It’s been a while since the whole incident with Eva, but the whispers never truly die down.Even though everything’s been “settled,” the stigma lingers like old perfume—too faint to name but strong enough to make you self-conscious. I still find myself hiding, as though shame is something stitched into my skin. If anyone