LOGINThere was a quiet seriousness in his movements, something deliberate, something that made both Charlotte and Caleb instinctively pay closer attention.Without saying a word at first, Gerald flipped open the file, carefully separating a set of neatly folded documents. The faint rustle of paper filled the room, sounding louder than it should have in the tense silence that surrounded them.He pulled out two sheets and straightened them, his eyes briefly scanning the contents as though to confirm something one last time. Then he stepped forward and extended the papers toward Charlotte.“I collected this from your apartment the day you were abducted by Nathan’s men,” Gerald said calmly, his voice steady but firm.Charlotte hesitated for a brief second before reaching out to take the papers. The moment her fingers touched them, something in her chest tightened.She didn’t even need to look down to know what it was.But she did anyway as her breath caught.It was the DNA test result.The s
The evening had settled quietly over Caleb Briggs’s residence, wrapping the house in a calm that felt almost deceptive. Inside the spacious living room, soft yellow lights reflected gently against the polished floor, while the faint scent of aged wood and expensive cologne lingered in the air. Caleb sat comfortably on one of the plush couches, a glass of red wine resting loosely between his fingers. His posture was relaxed, but his mind was anything but.His thoughts drifted repeatedly to Charlotte.Even after everything she had been through, the strength she carried still amazed him. The way she smiled despite the pain, the way she held onto hope even when everything seemed lost, stirred something deep within him. Something he had once ignored but could no longer deny. These days, she was no longer just someone from his past. She was his present. His peace. His responsibility.“Mr. Briggs, someone is here to see you?” Mrs. Lee’s voice broke into his thoughts.Caleb turned slightl
Minutes later, the door to Nathan Mills’s hospital room flung open with a loud bang that echoed down the quiet corridor. He stormed out, one hand clutching at his trousers as he adjusted the belt hurriedly. The plain white shirt he wore was tucked neatly into his suit trousers, replacing the hospital gown he had discarded without a second thought. His hair was still damp from a quick wash, strands falling slightly over his forehead, while his jaw remained clenched tight. His chest rose and fell heavily, as though he had just walked out of a battlefield and was still carrying the tension of war within him.Marcel and Helen stood just beside the door, caught completely off guard by his sudden appearance. Their eyes widened in shock, both of them frozen for a brief second as they took in his appearance and the fierce determination written all over his face.“How long have you both been here?” Nathan asked, his brows knitting together as his sharp gaze cut through them. His tone carr
Helen stood by the door, her chest still rising and falling from the rush that had brought her here. In her trembling hand was the file, the very document that had shattered the fragile silence of the room and ignited a storm of emotions none of them were prepared for.Nathan sat upright on the hospital bed, his back no longer slouched, his eyes no longer empty. For the first time in days, there was life in them. Not peace, not calm, but something far stronger. Hope. Dangerous, uncontrollable hope.“I knew it!” Nathan repeated, his voice rising again, filled with raw conviction. His fingers trembled as he pointed toward Marcel. “I told you all of this was a lie. Charlotte is alive. She has to be alive. This is her way of punishing me. She wants me to feel what she felt.”Marcel exhaled slowly, his jaw tightening as he tried to steady himself. As Nathan’s assistant and bodyguard, he had seen his boss in many states: angry, cold, ruthless, but never like this. Never so broken, so des
Nathan sat slouched in the hospital bed, his body weak, his spirit even weaker. His shoulders sagged forward as though the weight of his regrets had become physical, pressing him down with a force he could no longer resist.His eyes were hollow, dull and distant, as though whatever light once lived in them had been completely drained.His face was pale, stretched thin over his bones, and his lips were cracked, dry from dehydration and neglect.The smell of disinfectant in the ward hung heavy in the air, clean yet suffocating, mixing faintly with the bitter stench of whiskey that still clung stubbornly to his breath. It lingered around him like a reminder of how far he had fallen.The silence in the room was oppressive, broken only by the soft, steady beeping of the monitor beside his bed. Each sound echoed like a ticking clock, counting down moments he didn’t feel worthy of having.Marcel stood a short distance away, his arms folded tightly across his chest. His posture was rigid,
The evening was quiet.On that lonely rooftop at the hospital, Nathan Mills sat in a wheelchair, his back bent, his face hollow, as though something vital had been scooped out of him and left him to exist with the empty shell.In his hand, he gripped a glass of whiskey, his fingers trembling slightly with every rise and fall of his breath. The half-empty bottle rested on the tiled ground beside him, tilted as though it, too, had grown weary of standing upright after witnessing too much sorrow in too short a time.His eyes were half-closed, his lips parted slightly, his body sagging into the chair like a man standing at the fragile border between sleep and collapse.The wind brushed past him, cool but sharp, carrying the scent of antiseptic and distant rain. It tugged lightly at his shirt, whispering against his skin as if trying to wake him up from the misery swallowing him whole. For anyone else, the rooftop view would have been breathtaking, the city lights flickering to life one
The car moved smoothly along the dimly lit road, the hum of the engine the only sound filling the heavy silence inside the SUV. Streetlights flashed past the tinted windows in slow, measured intervals, casting fleeting shadows across Nathan's face. He sat rigidly at the back, his posture stiff and
By nightfall, the city had grown quieter and more subdued, the earlier rush fading into distant hums of traffic and scattered streetlights that dotted the darkness like small beacons. Nathan stood outside a modest but well-kept apartment building, his posture rigid and tense as he faced Marcel wit
The urgent call from Marcel turned out to be strictly work-related, though it came at the worst possible time imaginable. A major client from New York—one Nathan had spent years carefully cultivating, had suddenly requested a face-to-face meeting, insisting emphatically that it had to be Nathan hi
A sharp knock echoed through the apartment, cutting through the fragile calm that had settled in the room like a knife through silk. Charlotte stiffened instantly, her entire body going rigid. Her hands paused mid-movement as she packed the ointment back into the first-aid box with careful precisi







