Lahat ng Kabanata ng The daughter she thought was gone!: Kabanata 11 - Kabanata 20

Serena’s heels clicked sharply on the pavement as she approached, her grip on Elara’s wrist too tight, her expression twisted between rage and fear.“Let go,” Serena hissed, yanking her daughter — Amara’s daughter — behind her.Elara winced. Amara surged to her feet.“Don’t pull her like that,” Amara snapped, instinct overriding shock. Her voice was deeper, colder than Serena remembered.Serena’s eyes widened. “What are you doing here?”“I could ask you the same,” Amara said, her breath still trembling. “But I think we both know the real question.”Serena’s jaw tightened.“That little girl,” Amara continued, voice cracking with both terror and fury, “looks like me. Exactly like me. She has my eyes. My curls. She even…” Her voice broke. “She has my name.”Serena froze.Her body went still in a way that only guilty people ever did.Fight or flight.Mostly flight.Amara stepped closer, trembling. “Is she mine?”“No,” Serena said too quickly.Too falsely.Too desperately.Amara laughed —

The next morning, the storm began.Amara barely slept — but unlike the sleepless nights after her supposed loss, this night was fueled by adrenaline rather than despair. Fury rather than emptiness. Purpose rather than numbness.By sunrise, she stood at the window of her suite, watching Silverwood wake beneath soft golden light. Coffee in hand, she replayed the memory of Elara’s eyes, the warmth of her tiny fingers touching her cheek, the aching familiarity of her smile.Her daughter was alive.Alive.Alive.The word felt like oxygen after years of suffocation.A knock sounded at the door.She opened it to find Dominic Hale — crisp, composed, radiating an intensity that lit the air around him like static. Two people flanked him: a woman in a tailored suit with a briefcase, and a stern, broad‑shouldered man who looked like he could bench‑press a car.“Amara,” Dominic said softly. “This is Melissa Tran, my top legal strategist. And Jack Cutter — former federal investigator, now my head o

The following evening, Amara stood outside the gated community where Caleb lived—where Serena lived—where her daughter lived.The sun was setting, casting long shadows across the manicured lawns and stone walkways. The air tasted like autumn and tension.Jack stayed in the car a block away.Melissa waited at a nearby café, ready to jump into action if needed.Dominic stood beside Amara, although she hadn’t asked him to stay. He remained anyway, his presence grounding her.“Are you sure you want to do this alone?” Dominic asked quietly.Amara nodded. “He needs to hear it from me.”Dominic’s jaw tightened but he stepped back. “I’ll be here if you need me.”She walked toward the house.Every step felt heavy, but not with fear—with purpose. With the weight of the truth she carried. With the rage she refused to bury.Caleb’s house was pristine, almost sterile—white shutters, perfect hedges, not a leaf out of place.The perfection made her stomach twist.She rang the doorbell.Footsteps app

Serena Vale closed the curtains the moment she got home, her hands trembling so violently she nearly dropped her phone.Her heart thrummed—fast, frantic, terrified.She had rehearsed the story for years:Amara is gone.Amara accepted it.Amara will never come back.Caleb chose you.Elara is yours.But all lies crumble eventually.And today, they had shattered.Serena pulled her knees to her chest on the sofa. Her breath came in ragged bursts.“Mommy?”Elara padded into the room with her stuffed tiger. “Are you okay?”Serena forced a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Yes, sweetheart. Mommy is fine. Just tired.”But Elara frowned. “You look scared.”Serena’s breath caught.Because she was scared.Not of Amara—no.She was terrified of losing everything she had stolen.“Come here,” Serena said, pulling Elara tight against her chest.Elara snuggled in, her small arms wrapping around Serena. “Mommy… is that lady my other mommy?”Serena’s body went rigid.“No,” she said sharply.Elara flinc

Caleb chose the meeting place.A small, deserted pavilion at the edge of Crescent Park. The same park where Amara first saw Elara. The irony burned like acid.Night fell early, casting long, eerie shadows across the quiet playground. The swings creaked softly in the breeze. Leaves rustled. A streetlamp flickered.Amara arrived early.Not because she wanted to — but because dominance in negotiation came from occupying the space first. It was something she knew instinctively. Controlling one’s environment. Owning the ground under one’s feet.Dominic insisted on staying nearby. He watched from a car parked at the end of the block, shadowed by trees, eyes fixed on her silhouette as she stood waiting under the pavilion lights.When Caleb finally approached, he moved cautiously, his hands jammed into his pockets, eyes shifting nervously around the darkened park.He looked smaller than she remembered.Less certain.Older.“Amara,” he began.She didn’t let him continue.“You lied.”He swallow