Will Ethan finally realize the truth about Fallon? That she is not mimicking Sherah, that she is Sherah. ***DON'T FORGET TO ADD THE STORY TO YOUR LIBRARY, #Comment #Like #SUPPORT #SherahHawke #EthanFarwell #Nathan Kingsley #Fallon Kingsley Feel free to check my other stories here: Hey, Stranger! Goodbye My Love & Alpha's Last Chance
The room is cast in a soft, amber glow. Outside, the city glimmers like a restless constellation. Inside, everything is quiet, too quiet.Fallon sleeps soundly on the king-size bed, her figure curled beneath silk sheets, breath steady, unaware of the war being waged just beyond her dreams.Nathan stands near the window, phone pressed to his ear, his silhouette bathed in the faint reflection of neon lights flickering outside.His voice, when he speaks, is low. Hollow. Heavy with the weight of a choice he can’t unmake."I told her…" He pause. A beat of silence on the other end.Then—Madam Kingsley’s voice. Controlled. Measured. Spoke over the phone."How did it go?"Nathan glances over his shoulder toward Fallon, still sleeping."She reacted better than I expected…"His tone is remorseful, but distant—a man compartmentalizing pain to survive it."Good." She replied nonchalantly.Nathan closes his eyes for a brief moment. Exhaustion etches itself into the corners of his face. His next wo
In New York Medical Hospital.Eliot’s office. The blinds are half-drawn, casting long shadows across the neat rows of medical books lining the wall. A subtle hum from the hallway outside is muffled the moment the office door closes behind with a deliberate click.Eliot doesn’t look up right away. His pen scratches the paper in slow, focused strokes. Only when the silence stretches unnaturally does he lift his eyes.They land on Ethan’s face, tired, shadowed with something unreadable.“What are you doing here?” Eliot’s ask. His voice sharp, he is clearly not impressed with Ethan’s sudden appearance. Ethan did not waste any moment and blurted out his concern, “I need your help.”Ethan takes a step further into the room. He doesn’t sit. He doesn’t smile.He stands there, his presence more a weight than a greeting.The tension coils tight between them. Eliot sets the pen down with precision and leans back in his chair, folding his arms.Eliot smirked and crossed his arms. “Help you?” He
Ethan didn’t waste a single second.By the time the morning sun had crested over the Farwell Manor, he was already in the city—moving. Calculating. Obsessively methodical.He knew better than to be obvious. He knew he was being watched. Somewhere in the shadows, someone was always listening. Always two steps behind, or worse—two steps ahead.So he ran interference.Three different labs. Three separate appointments. Three carefully curated lies.Each location is a decoy. Each story is a well-constructed fabrication.At the first facility, he submitted a hair sample under the pretense of verifying a long-lost cousin claiming rights to an inheritance.At the second, he spun a tale of a possible sibling born from an affair, seeking closure before accepting a posthumous apology letter.And the third—a bold misdirection: a question of genetic linkage to a historical figure, a secret his “family had sworn to protect.”Each request is sealed under different aliases. Each is couriered by di
AT THE HOSPITAL...Sophia paced back and forth near the cashier’s desk, her arms wrapped tightly around herself like a crumbling shield.The sharp click of her shoes echoed off the linoleum floor, back and forth, back and forth, a metronome of desperation. Her breathing was shallow, nearly tremulous, her chest rising in short, uneven gasps. Her heart beat like a warning bell in her ears.She was aware of the clerk’s eyes, sympathetic but detached. Not cruel. Just conditioned. This wasn’t personal. It was policy.Her gaze locked onto the card machine.“PROCESSING…” The word flashed across the screen like a countdown.This was her final card.The last one has not yet declined. The last sliver of borrowed grace.“Please go through.” “Please don’t take her room away.” “Not today.”She had already lost so much. They had already taken the VIP ward. Just yesterday, her mother had been lying in a room filled with sun—clean linens, wide windows, the smell of eucalyptus oil, and fresh lilies
The next morning.The sun was about to shine, but Ethan was still awake. His mind is racing as he stares at the birthmark on Fallon’s skin.The birthmark. That birthmark.Same as Sherah’s.The size, the shape, even the location. A perfect match. Something no one could forge. No coincidence could easily explain.His mind is racing, thinking about different explanations, but in the end, one idea tops everything. “What if…?” He let his questions get stuck in his throat. Soon, memories emerge like a tidal wave.The way Fallon laughs, her subtle movements, her scent, and most importantly, the familiarity he feels towards her. All the proof points to one thing.His breath hitched, “Is it possible that…” He paused and couldn't finish the thought.He can’t take it anymore, and he needs to leave. Because if he doesn't, he might do something he will regret. He lifted her head from his chest and placed it gently onto the pillow. Her lashes fluttered, a soft sigh left her lips, but she didn’t
The storm had not relented.Rain lashed against the tall windows of Farwell Manor in wild, unpredictable rhythms. Trees groaned under the weight of the wind. Somewhere down the hall, an old shutter banged open and shut like a heartbeat in the dark.Ethan couldn’t sleep. He couldn’t bear the thought that Fallon was a few feet away from him; the urge to be with her was so strong. He sat at the edge of the guest bed, the silk robe loosely tied around his waist. His thoughts were too loud, but his desire to possess her was way louder. A feeling that until now has remained a mystery to him.The storm outside had long since found its echo within him, threading through the quiet spaces in his chest.He rose, barefoot on the soft carpet, and padded down the dimly lit corridor.He noticed that Fallon’s door was ajar.A soft, golden flicker glowed from within, firelight from the hearth, its warmth bleeding onto the dark floorboards.Ethan paused at the threshold.Then he heard it.Subtle whimpe