Lea

Colette's POV

The next day, the rays of sunlight pulled me from a heavy sleep, the pain immediately present. I hurt in every fiber of my being, and my body felt covered in one enormous bruise. But Léa was there, curled against me, sleeping peacefully. That was all that mattered.**

Dr. Reyes entered discreetly, a meal tray and medication in her hands.

“How are you feeling?” she asked.

“Like a semi-truck ran over me,” I admitted in a flat voice.

“That’s a normal reaction after a twin birth.” She came closer to help me sit up with infinite care. “Do you think you can stand on your legs?”

I tried. My lower limbs trembled like leaves, but they held. Just barely.

“That’s more than enough,” the doctor decided. “We need to get you out of here before Victor returns. He usually comes by early in the afternoon to make sure everything is proceeding as planned.”

The nurses had already prepared a large travel bag containing everything the baby needed: diapers, infant formula, bottles, and spare clothes. Enough to last the first few weeks. They had also slipped Victor’s envelope inside.

Six million dollars. Blood money. The price of my son.

Despite the nausea it stirred in me, I tucked it deep into the bottom of the bag. I needed that sum to disappear, to erase everything and start over somewhere Victor and his employer could never track us.

“A car is waiting for you at the service exit,” Dr. Reyes continued. “One of the gardeners owes me a favor. He’ll drive you straight to the train station.”

“Thank you,” I whispered, my throat tight. “Thank you for everything.”

She took my hand and slipped a second envelope into it. “The rest of the money you promised us for our silence. We didn’t touch it.”

I stared at her, deeply stunned. “But… why?”

“Because what was done to you is an outrage. Protecting your secret was the least we could do.” She squeezed my fingers one last time. “Take care of this little girl. Give her the life she deserves.”

Emotion overwhelmed me, but my strength failed me too much to hug her. I settled for a nod, tears burning my eyes once more.

The escape was nothing more than a long, hazy blur. Dr. Reyes and her colleagues guided me through a maze of service corridors and hidden staircases I had never noticed. My body protested violently with every step, but I refused to weaken. I had to hold on. For Léa.

The vehicle waiting for us was an older model, but the engine ran smoothly. The driver, a taciturn old man who pretended to notice nothing, started gently and took small country roads to bypass the estate. Through the rear window, I watched that gilded prison where I had spent the last eight months disappear for good behind the treetops.

“Where to, miss?” he finally asked.

“The train station,” I replied, tightening my hold on Léa. “And then as far away from here as possible.”

---

**Five years later**

“Léa! Don’t run like that, please!”

I hurried after my daughter through the crowded airport corridors, my travel bag bouncing against my hip. She had spotted a shiny reflection in a shop window and slipped away before I could react.

At only five years old, she was already giving me gray hairs.

I finally caught up with her in front of a luxury chocolatier’s display. She had her nose pressed against the glass, eyes wide at the rows of sweets.

“Mommy, can we buy some?” she pleaded, looking up at me with her big gray eyes—the sight of which always pierced my heart.

Storm-gray eyes, identical to her father’s. Identical, no doubt, to those of her twin brother, even if I would never know for certain.

“We’ll see later,” I decided, taking her hand firmly. “Right now we can’t miss our flight.”

“Oh, but Mommy…”

“No buts. Let’s go.”

We were on our way to Crestfall City after five years of voluntary exile. Five years spent hiding, rebuilding our lives in a small coastal town where anonymity was the rule. Five years during which I had juggled up to three jobs to provide for us, saving every cent so I wouldn’t touch Victor’s fortune.

But the time to return had come. It was time to reclaim what had been stolen from my father. Time to stop living like fugitives.

During those years I had forged a new armor: I had completed my university degrees remotely, gained solid experience in hotel management, and become an entirely different woman. Much stronger and more determined than the broken, drugged, and imprisoned young girl I had once been.

Léa trotted beside me, chattering happily about the trip and wondering what movies would be available on board. She was a bright, lively, and precociously intelligent child. When she asked about her father, I stuck to a simplified version of the truth: he didn’t know she existed, and things were complicated. Fortunately, her questions had become rarer lately, even if that silence sometimes worried me just as much.

“Look, Mommy!” Léa suddenly exclaimed, letting go of my hand to rush toward a tall man in an impeccably tailored suit.

My blood ran cold. No, it couldn’t be him. It was statistically impossible, especially since I knew nothing of his features. Yet a strange sense of dread gripped me as I watched my daughter charge straight at this stranger.

“Léa!” I called, lunging after her, luggage in hand.

The little girl had already reached the man and was gently tugging on the edge of his jacket. Surprised, he turned to face the child. Even from a distance, his presence was striking: a cold, haughty beauty typical of powerful men. Broad shoulders, an imposing stature, and clothes that probably cost several months of my salary. A second man accompanied him, slimmer, wearing glasses and carrying a leather briefcase. His private secretary, no doubt.

“I’m so sorry,” I panted as I reached them, catching Léa by the wrist. “She sometimes gets carried away by her curiosity and forgets her manners.”

The stranger was staring at Léa with an unreadable expression. It wasn’t irritation, more a deep perplexity. His assistant looked equally unsettled.

“It’s nothing,” the man finally replied. His voice was deep, low, and perfectly controlled. His way of speaking sent an inexplicable shiver through me, a diffuse sense of déjà vu that left me speechless.

Léa, completely unfazed, lifted a radiant face toward him. “You dropped this, mister.”

She held out a chocolate bite wrapped in gold paper, clearly slipped from his pocket or bag. The man gave the candy a distracted glance, then looked at my daughter again.

“Keep it,” he said.

“Really?” Léa’s eyes sparkled with joy.

“Léa, we don’t say…” I tried to intervene.

“I insist,” the stranger cut in. He reached into his attaché case and pulled out an entire box of the same high-end sweets. “Take the whole box. My son has astronomical quantities of them at home.”

Beside him, the man with glasses let out a brief cough. His superior shot him a dark look that instantly ordered him to stay silent.

“That’s really very generous of you, but…” I began, uncomfortable.

“Please, Mommy, can I take them?” Léa begged, bouncing on the spot.

I met the man’s gaze, trying to read his intentions. Men of his standing didn’t usually hand out expensive gifts to unknown children in airport terminals without an ulterior motive. Yet his kindness seemed genuine. Almost disarming.

“Thank you,” I finally conceded. “That’s extremely kind.”

Léa seized the box as if it were a sacred relic. Then, before I could make a move to stop her, she rose onto her tiptoes and planted a quick kiss on the stranger’s cheek.

“You’re super nice,” she declared. “Not like the other grown-ups who scold me all the time.”

A fleeting but sincere smile stretched the man’s lips. “You’ve got quite a personality for such a little girl.”

“Mommy always says I get that from her,” Léa replied proudly.

The assistant discreetly checked his expensive watch. “Sir, the timing is tight. The driver is waiting at the drop-off.”

“Very well.” The man’s face instantly resumed its mask of austerity and control. He gave me a brief glance—our eyes met for a fraction of a second—and that troubling impression of familiarity seized my throat again. It was insane. I had never met him in my life, I would have sworn it.

“Safe travels,” he said before walking away at a brisk pace, followed by his collaborator.

I remained still for a moment, watching them leave, my heart beating at an abnormal rhythm.

“He was really nice,” Léa commented, clutching her treasure against her chest. “I’m sure he’s a great dad to his little boy.”

“Maybe, sweetheart,” I murmured as I resumed our walk toward the boarding gate. “But you must never approach people like that again. It’s dangerous.”

“But he gave me chocolates!”

“This time. Next time things could go badly.” I gently squeezed her small hand. “Promise me you’ll stay close to me now.”

She let out a theatrical sigh, pretending she had received the punishment of the century. “Okay, I promise.”

We reached our boarding gate with about twenty minutes to spare before the call. After buying something to drink, we found two free seats near the large windows. Léa immediately opened her box to examine each piece with the meticulousness of an expert.

“Can I eat one right now?” she asked.

“Just one,” I conceded. “The rest is for later.”

She settled on a dark chocolate filled with caramel and bit into it with little sighs of satisfaction. Watching her, I felt my heart tighten, torn between immeasurable love and a dull apprehension.

This city we were returning to… it held my worst demons. The night of the trap, the months of captivity, the loss of my son. Everything had happened there.

But I couldn’t spend the rest of my days running from my shadow. I needed to rebuild our future on solid ground.

Crestfall City offered opportunities my small coastal town never could. Better jobs. Better schools for Léa. A chance to finally move forward instead of merely surviving.

As the plane taxied down the runway, I cast one last glance at the luxury chocolate box Léa was clutching. On the golden silk ribbon, a family name was engraved in gold letters. A name everyone in Crestfall City feared.

My heart skipped a beat. My one and only priority was to make sure our paths never crossed that of the man who had fathered my children.

But what if… what if it was him? What if that stranger was Leas father?