Lahat ng Kabanata ng The daughter she thought was gone!: Kabanata 21 - Kabanata 30

News travels strangely in small towns.It doesn’t move in headlines, or emails, or formal announcements.It moves through whispers, suspicious glances, and conversations abruptly cut short when someone walks into a room.By Monday morning, Silverwood was already buzzing.Parents in Crescent Park whispered behind coffee cups.Boutique owners exchanged cryptic looks as Amara passed by.Even the barista at the café paused mid‑pour, watching her like she was a character in a story unfolding in real time.And she was.Because in Silverwood — Dominic Hale’s kingdom — nothing stayed hidden for long.When Amara arrived at Hale Industries for their legal strategy meeting, she found Dominic standing at the far end of the conference room, jaw hard, arms crossed, eyes on a muted news segment playing on the wall screen.Amara froze.There, in bold text:LOCAL FAMILY FACES CUSTODY DISPUTE — BUSINESS TYCOON INVOLVEDThe reporter’s voice was soft but insidious:“Sources claim a prominent entrepreneur

By the next morning, the custody battle had become a living, breathing presence in Amara’s mind. She felt its pulse beneath her skin, in every footstep, every breath. But beneath the tension was something new — resolve. A strength she hadn’t recognized in herself since before the hospital, before the lies, before the world collapsed.This strength was what she felt once before. A strength that had helped her build her business. A strength that would never let her fail.She sat in Dominic’s private boardroom, wearing a tailored charcoal suit that sharpened every line of her posture. She looked like a woman stepping into war — not trembling, not broken, but built from steel. A woman ready to go to war and win.Jack placed a small evidence box in front of her.“Serena’s trash,” he said simply.Amara blinked. “You went through—”“Curbside garbage,” Melissa clarified from across the table. “Perfectly legal.”Jack smirked. “People throw away more than they should.”He opened the box.Inside

The courier arrived at dawn.Amara knew the moment she opened her eyes that the results were coming today. She could feel it — the strange electricity in the air, the pulse beneath her skin, the faint tremor of hope beating against her ribs.This was the moment that would validate or destroy her.Dominic stood in her suite’s doorway before she even finished tying her silk robe.“Are you ready?” he asked quietly.She wasn’t.No mother preparing to confirm that her child had been stolen ever truly could be.No mother who had ever grieved the lose of a child would be prepared for this moment. But she nodded anyway.Jack placed the sealed envelope on the table. Melissa stood beside him, hands folded, expression carefully neutral — but her eyes betrayed a hint of intensity.The envelope seemed to glow with its own gravity.Evidence.Truth.Five years of grief, poised to be rewritten.Amara hovered her fingers over the flap.Dominic stepped closer.“You don’t have to open it alone.”She to

Amara stood at the curb outside the courthouse with a federal marshal, two deputies, and Dominic at her side. Her hands shook—not with fear, but with the wild, electric anticipation of a mother about to reclaim the child stolen from her arms.The sky above Silverwood had sharpened into a pale winter blue, clouds parted like the heavens themselves were watching.“You’re ready,” Dominic murmured.She nodded.She wasn’t.No mother ever could be.But she needed to be.The squad car pulled up first, lights off, engine rumbling quietly. Then came the marshal’s SUV. Deputies fanned out, checking radios, loading files, preparing for what could either be a procedural retrieval… or a confrontation.“Ms. Linton,” the marshal said, stepping beside her, “as of 10:03 AM, you hold full temporary custody. You have legal authority. No one can refuse you access to your daughter.”Your daughter.The words nearly knocked the breath from her lungs.Dominic watched her carefully, his jaw tight, sensing the

The house was quiet.Too quiet.After the chaos and adrenaline of retrieving Elara, the silence felt almost surreal. Amara closed the front door behind her, leaning back against it for a moment—just long enough to steady her racing heart.Her daughter stood in the foyer, tiny backpack still slung over her shoulders, looking around with wide, curious eyes.Elara.Here.In her home.After five years stolen, five years buried beneath lies and grief, five years of a mother mourning a child who had never died—her daughter was here.“Is this your house?” Elara asked, her voice soft, almost shy.Amara pushed off the door and crouched down so they were eye level. “Yes, sweetheart. And now it’s your house too.”Elara blinked up at her, absorbing the words. “Can I have my own room?”Emotion caught in Amara’s throat. “You can have anything you want.”Elara smiled—a shy, radiant thing that warmed the entire room.Amara took her hand. “Come on. Let’s explore.”She led Elara through the house—sunli