Florence was painted in gold and orange when they arrived. The sun dripped over terracotta rooftops and narrow alleyways like liquid amber, but for Lucian and Isla, the beauty of the city was lost under the weight of secrets they had come to reveal.Their hotel was discreet and tucked between a quiet art gallery and a perfumery. But even there, safety felt like suffocation.Lucian stood by the window, staring at the sky. “He’s maybe here,” he murmured, more to himself than to Isla or Leo. He wished it was real. He wished their child would be here.Isla, curled in a linen chair nearby, flipped through the file Leo had compiled. “Joshua Williams used a private jet five months ago from Denmark to Florence. The jet belonged to a shell company under Claire’s name indirectly.”Leo leaned against the wall. “My source says the final destination wasn’t a clinic. It was a private villa two hours from the city. It is a remote and private villa.”“What more did you find?” Lucian asked.Leo’s lips
The skies above Denmark were grey and thick with clouds, with a chill that made the air taste like salt and secrets. Secrets buried deep by Claire. Secrets which would change everything.Lucian, Isla, and Leo stood before the towering iron gates of Rosenhavn House, the discreet orphanage run under private funds, tucked away on the northern coast. Wind lashed Isla’s coat against her thighs. But she barely noticed. Her gaze was locked on the weathered stone sign beside the gate. "Founded: 1991. Shelter for the Lost. Home for the Unnamed."It felt like a haunting ghost was breathing down her neck.Her heart was crying for her child. Rage was running down her veins as she thought about her baby.“Alias names only,” Leo said quietly. “We don’t want to petrify anyone.”Lucian nodded. “Let me lead the questioning then”“No,” Isla interrupted coldly. “I will do it,” she said, her voice firm and final.Lucian and Leo didn’t argue. They knew it wasn't Isla speaking. It was the mother inside he
The city breathed like it was holding something back. Maybe it was holding back Isla's rage. Or maybe her tears.Isla sat motionless on the edge of her bed, the lights off, rain clinging to the windows like ghosts desperate to get in. Her phone screen lit up again. It was Leo. Then Elena. Then Lucian.They were all calling her. They were worried for her.But she didn’t answer.The world could wait. It had stolen from her once. It had taken away a child, a truth, five entire years.It wouldn't steal how she processed it now. Because he was alive. Her baby was alive.This was not a dream. This was not a hallucination her grief made real.Aaric.Her baby had cried. He had breathed. He had existed beyond the hospital bed and white sheets, beyond blood and loss. He was real.A sound escaped her. A soft, foreign sound. A sob that echoed off the dark walls. She clutched a baby blanket she had never thrown away, her tears finally fell free. Tears of a mother. Tears of a woman who had dreamt
Rain fell like cold needles across the city. At 3:17 a.m., Isla stood in her living room, some file folders scattered across the floor like a battlefield of truths and half-lies. Alina's confession, the incubator logs and now this new nurse who had checked in the incubator room all those years ago roamed inside Isla's mind. They were successful in finding the nurse’s name. It was Maya Aster, the nurse who checked out the equipment and vanished with no traces left.Elena had remained in Isla's penthouse to be with her for the night but she had tired and had gone to bed hours ago after Isla insisted she sleep. Isla on the other hand was wired with a storm trapped inside silk skin. She felt trapped. She felt caged.The thoughts swirled inside her mind like wild animals.The child hadn’t died.Or at least... she couldn’t accept that he had. But all the proof said that her baby must be alive.And that tiny flicker of hope? That hope of a mother.It was enough to set her entire world on
The jet sliced through the early dusk. New York’s sky gradually unfolded beneath soft cotton like cloud cover.Lucian sat across from Isla, his jaw tight and his phone untouched. Isla didn’t speak either. Her arms folded together,eyes fixed outside the window, her silence louder than any thunder.Leo, meanwhile, had taken the couch at the back of the cabin, pretending to take a nap. But he wasn’t sleeping. He was listening, watching and keeping an eye on Isla and Lucian. Leo had his own motive, his own agenda with a revenge of his own.They were back from Switzerland with more than just confirmation of Claire’s crimes. Alina Shore’s words still echoed between them like a phantom ghost.The words Alina said were roaming inside Isla's mind making her heart ache and her eyes hollow than before.Lucian was thinking about their past and baby as well. The words and unspoken story had carved itself into Lucian’s chest like glass, cutting his heart every time he closed his eyes.***By the n
The wind outside howled against Claire's other Geneva villa, but inside, the silence felt heavier than any storm.Today Isla and Lucian were in this villa to search for records or anything which takes them closer towards their lost child.Isla stood alone in the dimly lit study Claire once used on her business trips. It was strangely untouched like Claire had frozen this room with all those marble surfaces, gold pens and thick velvet curtains.She moved past the bookshelf, her fingers brushing old business manuals, legal briefs and financial files.But then something strange happened. One of the books wasn't aligned properly which made Isla curious and she pulled it out.A soft clunk echoed as a black leather notebook fell out from behind it.Isla froze on the spot.The pages were brittle with time. Most were scribbled with Claire’s brutal written notes in shorthand. There were names, payouts, hospital files and doctors' names including the name of Alina Shore and Elara Jensen.But