All Chapters of The Twin's Secret: A Billionaire's Tempting Proposal: Chapter 161 - Chapter 170

Daphne's POV The room was still heavy with silence when Daisy’s father finally stood. His tall frame seemed even larger as he loomed over Hillary, his hands trembling at his sides. His voice, when it came, was sharp but controlled—like steel cutting through the air.“Who was he?” he demanded. “The doctor. What is his name? Where is he now?”Hillary shifted uncomfortably in her seat, her wrinkled fingers knotting together. “It… it was a long time ago,” she stammered. “I don’t know if he is still alive.”“That is not an answer,” Daisy’s father shot back, his eyes blazing. “You stood in a hospital and conspired to steal my child. You must remember the name of the man who handed her over like property. Tell us!”Hillary flinched at his fury, tears filling her eyes. “Dr. Mason,” she whispered at last. “His name was Dr. Charles Mason. He worked at St. Mary’s Hospital. He was… discreet. That’s why I trusted him. He said no one would ever find out.”Daisy’s mum gasped, clutching her mouth. “

Daphne's POV I woke to the warmth of Oliver’s arms still wrapped around me. His steady breathing brushed against my neck, and for a fleeting second, the world felt quiet again. No shadows, no stolen past, no frozen memories of snow and abandonment. Just the safety of his embrace.I blinked against the faint morning light spilling through the curtains. My eyes still stung from crying, and my body felt drained, but there was a strange calm inside me now. A fragile kind of peace, like the silence after a storm.Oliver stirred when I shifted. His eyes opened, soft and tired but full of that steady light he always seemed to hold just for me. “Hey,” he murmured, brushing a thumb across my cheek. “How are you feeling?”My throat tightened at the gentleness in his voice. I swallowed hard, trying to form an answer, but all I could do was shake my head.He pulled me closer, pressing his forehead to mine. “You don’t have to be okay right away, Daphne. It’s enough that you’re here. With me.”I l

Oliver's POV I’ve always thought of myself as a man who can handle storms. I’ve dealt with company betrayals, lawsuits, rivals trying to claw at my reputation, but nothing — absolutely nothing — prepared me for what I was now facing: a stolen child, two grieving parents, and my wife breaking down in ways I couldn’t always fix.That night after Daphne and Mrs. Anderson finally let their emotions spill, I knew we couldn’t wait any longer. The truth was out, and if we wanted peace — real peace — then we had to find the man who started all this. Dr. Mason.The name itself tasted bitter.I sat at the edge of the couch, phone in my hand, while Daphne curled against me, her fingers clinging to my sleeve like I was her lifeline. Mr. Anderson sat opposite, his hands folded, his face drawn and quiet, while Mrs. Anderson was dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief. The room smelled faintly of peppermint tea, but there was no warmth in it. Only the heavy air of waiting.I cleared my throat. “I know

Daphne's POV The sirens were faint at first, just a low hum in the distance, but they grew louder with every passing second until they wrapped around the little house like a warning bell. My chest felt tight as I stood there, my hand resting in Oliver’s, while Mr. and Mrs. Anderson sat stiffly on the old wooden chairs in Mason’s living room.When the police finally arrived — three officers in dark uniforms — everything happened quickly. They didn’t need much explanation. The Andersons told their story, and Mason, to my shock, didn’t even try to resist. He raised his trembling hands and nodded when they asked him to stand.“I deserve this,” he murmured, his voice breaking.I stared at him as they led him out of the house. For years, I had wondered where I came from, why my life had been stitched together with pain and abandonment. And now the man who had stolen my entire beginning shuffled past me in handcuffs, his head bowed low.It should have made me feel angry, vengeful even, but

Daphne's POV The past few days had been a blur. Between discovering my roots, confronting Hillary, and the storm of emotions that followed, I barely had time to breathe. Yet, somehow, life was still moving forward, dragging me along with it. The ballet contest loomed ahead, just a week away, and I couldn’t afford to fall apart now. Not when everything seemed to hang on this performance.This morning, I stood alone in the rehearsal room Oliver had helped transform for me, staring at my reflection in the wide mirror. The wooden floors gleamed under the light, but my face told a different story—dark circles under my eyes, shoulders slumped with exhaustion. Still, I tied the satin ribbons of my pointe shoes tighter, determined to push through.The music began, soft at first, then swelling, and I let my body move. Every pirouette, every plié, every leap was heavier than the last. My legs ached, my muscles screamed, but I refused to stop. Sweat trickled down my back, stinging my skin, but