Semua Bab Aaliyah’s Return : Bab 1 - Bab 7

Brandon Miller hadn't been this undone in a decade.The hallway outside the ICU felt too quiet for the kind of storm that was building inside his chest. Glass walls. White floors. The soft beep of monitors. But all he could hear was the rush of blood in his ears the moment he saw her.Aaliyah.Ten damn years, and she only grew more breathtaking, she was better. Fiercer. More beautiful. Her back was straight, and her hand gripped tightly around the tiny fingers of a little boy lying in the hospital bed. A boy with caramel skin and wild curls. A boy who, in every fiber of Brandon's being, He knew he was his son. Wolves can always smell their Kids.He hadn't even needed the test.The scent hit first strawberry and late summer jasmine. The bond pulsed the second she walked into the room, and his wolf had gone deathly still.He turned away from the glass before his chest caved in completely. His shoes echoed down the corridor as he strolled into the empty consultation room they'd reserved.

SHAWN MALLORY POV Shawn Mallory had never been one for chaos. He liked his world full of numbers and codes. Predictable lines of logic. Language that obeyed. Machines that responded without emotional interference. He built AI programs that mimicked human behavior, but even those were less frustrating than real people. Still, every once in a while, his best friends managed to drag him away from his glowing screens and humming servers. That night, ten years ago, had been one of those moments. He hadn't wanted to go. He was knee-deep in debugging the latest chatbot prototype he named AI Anastasia she was proving problematic just like real-life women an emotionally adaptive concierge bot that could schedule your life and flirt while doing it. Desmond had texted him: "We're going out. Don't make me come to that damn lab." Brandon had just sent an address. Typical. He showed up reluctantly fitted black suit, gold cufflinks, Gold Rolex glinting in low lighting. Always clean. Always d

Dinner with the "Uncles"I sit in the passage for a few minutes, watching both patients and nurses walk by, my chest tight with an ache that catches me off guard. The hallway smells faintly of antiseptic and hand sanitizer, a cold reminder of how much time I've spent in hospitals lately. I press a hand to my chest as a memory blindsides me—a vivid flashback from when I was six years old. I had been chosen to play Cinderella in the school play. I was over the moon. Daddy had bought me the most beautiful little dress, all shimmering satin and organza. Mama had helped me rehearse my lines, over and over again, until I could say them in my sleep. But on the day of the performance, just before we left for school, Geena pushed me down the stairs. I broke my leg.The cast was pink. I remember that. What I remember even more was the way no one believed me. Not really. Daddy had gently said, "She's your younger sister, Aaliyah. It was a mistake. Forgive her." And Mama, bless her heart, said so