Ava's Point of ViewThe night air was dense with silence as we left Damian's father's estate. There were no words exchanged in the automobile, only the buzzing of tension between the leather seats. Damian's hands clutched the steering wheel fiercely, white knuckles against the black leather. I sat next him, my pulse racing from the revelation we had just walked away from. He offered no objection. His father confessed everything. The drug. The memory erase. The deception. And the worst part? He felt he'd done the proper thing. Damian hadn't spoken anything since. I could almost hear his thoughts raging louder than the engine.When we eventually arrived at the penthouse garage, he skipped the service valet. He parked, opened the door, and went into the elevator without looking back. I followed. The elevator doors swung open, revealing a deadly quiet apartment. Damian stood at the window, looking out at the city as if it were a battlefield."I would've thrown it al
Damian's Point of View Time slowed. Rachel's words exploded in my ears, like a bomb in a quiet sanctuary. "Meet your real son." The young boy by her side clutched her hand, his huge green eyes peering up at me. He looked like Liam. Too much like him. The same expressive eyes. The same unruly hair that never seemed to stay down. The same vulnerability was emblazoned across his face, like a delicate, living canvas. Ava stood behind me, stiff from shock. I could hear her breathing—short and shallow. Her hand stretched for my shoulder to maintain equilibrium. "That's not possible," she said quietly.Rachel’s lips curled into a smirk, the same one I remembered from our twisted youth. “Oh, sweetheart,” she cooed. “You, of all people, should know that nothing is impossible when you’re born a Cross.” I couldn’t look away from the boy. From Landon. I forced my voice to work. “Who is he?” Rachel crouched beside him and stroked his curls. “His name is Landon. Landon Cross. He is your
DAMIAN Point of ViewManhattan's skyline burnt gold as the sun sank, but my world had never felt darker. The past was pushing its way into the present, destroying everything I'd built with Ava. Lucas had returned. Rachel had a child—my child, apparently. And Liam? I was barely hanging on to who I used to be, let alone who I was supposed to become. But Lucas made one error. He expected me to play by his rules. Not anymore. "Your meeting is confirmed," Marcus stated as he entered the study. "Lucas wishes to meet at The Black Moth. Discreet. Private room. "No media."The black moth. An exclusive gentlemen's club where CEOs shared secrets over $100,000 scotch. Fitting for a serpent like Lucas. "Tell security I want eyes on every entrance," I informed them. "No surprise. "Not this time." Marcus nodded and departed without saying anything else. Across the room, Ava leaned against the bookshelf, arms crossed, phone flashing in her fingers. She had not said much sin
Ava's perspective. My lungs tightened as I dashed down the corridor into the nursery. Liam's monitor hummed with static, and Landon's scream still echoed in my ears. I pushed the door open so hard that it crashed against the wall. Empty. Crib remains undisturbed. Stuffed animals are perfectly organized. Not a single hair is out of place. But Landon was gone. I surveyed the room—closet? Empty. Under the bed? Clear. Bathroom? Nothing. "LANDON!" I yelled, my chest squeezing with a mother's panic that overwhelmed all logic. My fingers rushed across my phone's screen. Call Damian."Pick up." Pick up. Damian—" "Ava?" His voice was breathless and harsh. "He's gone!" I cried. "Landon! "I swear he was in his crib, and now—" "I am on my way. Lock the doors. You should not trust anyone. I'll phone Marcus and warn the guards—" The call was dropped. There is no more sound. My reflection in the nursery mirror trembled, hollow-eyed and with ragged breath.
Ava Point of ViewsThe safehouse smelled like lemon disinfectant and old memories. Damian stood shirtless by the window, his wounds newly treated, sunshine illuminating his flesh like a masterpiece. He seems almost... calm. But calm with Damian Cross was like spring in New York: beautiful, transient, and never far from another storm. "Say something," I muttered. He turned, his gaze finding mine. "I can't stop thinking about what I forgot." "You're remembering more?"He nodded slowly. "Bits and pieces." The wedding. Your eyes brightened up when you saw me in that suit. The baby shower. "The fight prior to the crash..." I flinched. "What fight?" His jaw clenched. "You asked me to leave my family business. I stated I couldn't. "You mentioned you were pregnant." My breath caught. "And?" “I left.” Silence. "I walked out," he whispered. "And the next day, I crashed." Damian Point of Views Ava's face contorted with misery, but she did not weep. She neve
Damian's POV I didn't think; I just moved. Swept Liam into my arms and rolled us to the floor behind the sofa, heart pounding like a war drum. The broken glass crunched under heavy boots. Whoever was inside was not there to steal. They came for something different. "Ava!" My voice was drowned out by the silence. Then—bang—a lamp fell to the floor. Ava appeared at the hallway door, pallid, her eyes wide with rage and terror. She held Liam's iPad like it was a weapon. And behind her. A woman. Tall, elegant, blonde.And for a split second, I believed it was Rachel. But it wasn't. It was someone far worse. Ava Point of Views I could not breathe. The woman standing in the doorway was actually a mirror. Not only similar. Identical. She looked at me with the same brown eyes I saw in the mirror every day, but hers were colder. Sharper. "Who are you?" I whispered. She smiled. "Don't you recognize your other half, Ava?" My world shifted. "Adrian
Ava Point of View The door groaned as I pulled it open. It smelt of lavender and death. My old room is stuck in time. The wallpaper had not peeled. My childhood books were still arranged on the shelf. The ballerina lamp on the nightstand gleamed dimly, as if it had just been turned off. I stepped inside. The door slammed shut behind me. Rachel Point of View "Ava!" I hammered on the door, attempting the handle. It would not budge. "Open the door!" No response. Then I heard her voice: garbled, muttering something. But she was not speaking to me. Ava Point of ViewShe stood in a far corner. A woman wrapped in gloom, her face obscured by smoke and memory twisted together. But I knew who she was. My Mother. But she didn't look right. Too tall. Too still. "Hello, Ava." Her voice like mine. Except that they are older. Sharper. Worn down by ages of secrecy. "I've missed you," she said. "I've missed you, too," I said quietly. "But you're not real."
Ava's perspective The stillness in the room was louder than any cry. Two babies. One cradle. One memory. My hands trembled. "Say it again," I whispered. "You left me," the child repeated. His voice, ancient and resonant with agony, jarred something loose within me. I caught glimpses of terror. Blood on the hospital bed. Caleb's name was whispered once. Not Liam. Caleb. Damian Point of ViewThe air in the room felt dense, like if you were trying to breathe underwater. Ava stood frozen in place, her gaze fixed on the child that wasn't ours—or was supposed to be. The other baby, Liam, slept soundly in Rachel's arms on the threshold. What about the baby in the crib? He was awake. And he knew things. Things he shouldn't know. "You made a deal," the boy said softly, turning to face me. I froze. "What deal?" He tilted his head. "Forget her." "To forget me." Rachel Point of View The silence between Ava and Damian felt unsettling. "You need to take a step
Ava's POV Grief without confirmation is a form of madness. I wasn't sure if I was mourning a lost child or preparing to meet one I have never known existed. Both alternatives nagged at me. Both were terrifying. I sat in my office, the shades shut and the sunshine streamed through like anguish through lace. Sophia paced in front of my desk, phone in her ear. "He's six," she replied, nodding slowly. "Dark hair and green eyes." "Slight dimple on the left cheek." My breath caught. Liam had the same dimple. She hung up and turned to me. "I spoke with the private investigator. Two days earlier, Rachel checked Levi into a luxury mansion in Connecticut. High security. "No access.""Is he safe?" Sophia paused. "Physically? Yes. But emotionally? She shakes her head. "Rachel is coaching him. Feeding him stories." My heart broke. "Does he know about me?" I whispered. "Yes." "What did she tell him?" "That you left him." I grabbed the edge of the d
Ava's POV Grief without confirmation is a form of madness. I wasn't sure if I was mourning a lost child or preparing to meet one I have never known existed. Both alternatives nagged at me. Both were terrifying. I sat in my office, the shades shut and the sunshine streamed through like anguish through lace. Sophia paced in front of my desk, phone in her ear. "He's six," she replied, nodding slowly. "Dark hair and green eyes." "Slight dimple on the left cheek." My breath caught. Liam had the same dimple. She hung up and turned to me. "I spoke with the private investigator. Two days earlier, Rachel checked Levi into a luxury mansion in Connecticut. High security. "No access.""Is he safe?" Sophia paused. "Physically? Yes. But emotionally? She shakes her head. "Rachel is coaching him. Feeding him stories." My heart broke. "Does he know about me?" I whispered. "Yes." "What did she tell him?" "That you left him." I grabbed the edge of the d
Damian's Point of View Throughout the night, I kept hearing the same message: "I haven't even opened the vault yet." Rachel didn't lie. Not like this. If she had a vault, it was not a metaphor. She meant something real. Something buried literally, digitally, or legally was designed to withstand even her own demise. And knowing her, it wasn't merely a threat. It was a well-timed landmine. I stood in the war room, a glass-walled corner office that we had transformed into a strategy hub, peering at the security feeds and evidence boards adorned with red threads, photographs, and timestamps.Ava joined me moments later, her face pallid but composed. She wore a navy dress and braided her hair, yet her eyes burned like steel. "She's forcing us into the final move," she told us. I nodded. "We need to find that vault before she uses it." She met my eyes. "And we need to be ready for what's inside." Because we both understood that if Rachel was saving it for last
Ava’s Point of View The past has a scent. Not perfume or flowers — no, it smells like old smoke and velvet. Like secrets kept behind silk curtains in boardrooms you don’t speak of in daylight. When Damian showed me the photo, my breath stilled. London. Five years ago. The Kingston Hotel.And the men beside me? One was his father. The other was Arthur Vance the hedge fund billionaire who “disappeared” after an SEC investigation imploded without warning. Rachel had unearthed it. Of course she had. My hand trembled as I set the photo down on the table between us. Damian’s stare never left me."What is the Kingston deal, Ava?" I never wanted to lie. But I had decided not to tell. There is a distinction. I assumed I had buried that part of myself with the old Ava, the girl who donned silk blouses and weaponized her smile to outwit guys who underestimated her. But perhaps... I had merely concealed her under Liam’s lullabies. And now she was being held accountable. Dam
Damian's Point of View It started with flames. Not flames in the literal sense, though my blood was hot enough for that, but the fire of determination. About justice. Of knowing that someone had attempted to destroy everything I had ever loved and believed they would get away with it. Not this time. Ava sat with me at the kitchen island, going through legal contacts. Her hair was pushed back, her face naked, and she appeared like a warrior queen planning a siege. And I? I was her blade. "We can't go public yet," Ava explained, tapping the screen. "Rachel's lies have already gone viral. If we rush this, it will appear that we are scurrying. "We need to strike hard, smart, and once."I nodded, setting my coffee aside untouched. “We’ll leak it anonymously. Let the world do what it does best, let them eat her alive.” She glanced up, a flicker of amusement breaking through the fog in her eyes. “You’ve changed.” I held her gaze. “You changed me.” Her lips part
. Damien's Point of View The knock on the door came shortly after midnight. Sharp and urgent. Like a sword cutting through the skin of silence. I was not expecting anyone. Ava was upstairs, finally sleeping after days of anxiety and stress that had stretched her thin. I spent the last hour pacing the dark penthouse, my thoughts racing, chasing shadows that wouldn't settle into answers. Now I was staring at the huge envelope on the porch. No address. There's no sender. Nothing wonderful ever come packaged in so much silence. I ripped it open with numb fingers. A single sheet of paper dropped into my hand, heavier than it should be. This was a paternity test.My heart is racing like a war horse.I blinked once, twice, and felt the ground move beneath me as the words clicked into place. Damian Cross is the father. Child: Liam Reynolds. Paternity probability: 0%. And under it, wrote in a hand that smelled of smug satisfaction: "He was never yours to love."
Damien's Point of View For the first time in days, I fell asleep. Not the shallow, restless snoozing that troubled me after the tabloids exploded, but actual slumber. Deep. Bone-heavy.Ava cuddled up with me, her breathing calm across my chest, our boy safe in the nursery downstairs. That should have been enough. It should have felt like victory. But serenity, I was discovering, was an illusion. And dawn would always break it apart. The banging on the door began just after daybreak. I sprang awake suddenly, muscles strained, grabbing for the bat I kept beside the bed a habit I no longer considered. Ava stirred and looked up at me. "What is it?" "Stay here," I answered sternly, already changing into jeans and a shirt. The knocking became louder. Urgent. Relentless. My intuition sounded a warning. Something wasn't right. I rushed down the corridor, my pulse pounding, and wrenched the door open.Sophia was standing there with wild hair and a pale face, cl
Ava's POV The nursery floated about me, the beautiful blue background with silver stars fading into meaningless forms. My breath was hitched, shallow, and harsh. Two cradles. Two babies. Two cries. Both boys looked very similar. Curly, black hair. Fair skin. Tiny fists were waving aimlessly in the air. They both reached for me. Both called me "Mommy" in the only language a newborn understood: the searing, desperate howl of yearning. I took back a step, thudding against the dresser behind me. My legs threatened to give up. This was not possible. This was not real. But it was.Rachel's twisted reality, including drugs, hypnosis, and fabricated memories, had deeply rooted within me. I couldn't tell which child was truly mine. I reached for the first baby, "Liam," and he grasped my finger, strong and sure. The other baby sobbed louder, kicking his tiny legs as if begging me not to forget him. Tears blinded me. I was choosing a memory, a life.I could feel him, the magnetic pull
Ava's perspective The stillness in the room was louder than any cry. Two babies. One cradle. One memory. My hands trembled. "Say it again," I whispered. "You left me," the child repeated. His voice, ancient and resonant with agony, jarred something loose within me. I caught glimpses of terror. Blood on the hospital bed. Caleb's name was whispered once. Not Liam. Caleb. Damian Point of ViewThe air in the room felt dense, like if you were trying to breathe underwater. Ava stood frozen in place, her gaze fixed on the child that wasn't ours—or was supposed to be. The other baby, Liam, slept soundly in Rachel's arms on the threshold. What about the baby in the crib? He was awake. And he knew things. Things he shouldn't know. "You made a deal," the boy said softly, turning to face me. I froze. "What deal?" He tilted his head. "Forget her." "To forget me." Rachel Point of View The silence between Ava and Damian felt unsettling. "You need to take a step