Clara’s POV The hospital air felt as cold and sterile as my mood. I stormed out of the waiting room, my heels clicking sharply against the tiled floors. Jack’s voice, soft with concern for Samantha, echoed in my mind, cutting deeper than I wanted to admit. I could still see Samantha’s trembling resolve as she prepared for the transfusion. Always so determined to play the hero. Always at the center of everything, as though the world revolved around her.But it wasn’t just about her playing hero or stealing Jack’s devotion. No, this ran deeper. This was about Louis.I pressed the elevator button harder than necessary, my knuckles whitening as the memories came flooding back. My wedding day—what should have been the happiest day of my life—shattered in an instant. Louis, my Louis, was ripped from me at the altar, dragged away in handcuffs in front of everyone. The man I loved, the man who was supposed to be my future, was destroyed by the political chess game Father played.And when th
Samantha’s POV The soft hum of machines and faint whispers of hospital staff filled the air as I leaned against the wall of the waiting room. Jack sat beside me, his elbows on his knees, his head bowed. His silence felt heavy, but I didn’t have the strength to ask what was on his mind. My thoughts were already spiraling, stuck on the chaos of the past few days.Kelvin’s condition was stable, but the bombshell of the DNA revelation hung over us, unresolved. Was it real? Was there any truth to what the doctor said? The idea of being connected to Kelvin Smith by blood was impossible—wasn’t it?The quiet tension was shattered by the sudden sound of hurried footsteps and muffled voices. Jack looked up, his brows furrowed, as a wave of noise grew louder, closer.“Is that—” he started, but before he could finish, the waiting room doors burst open.The flash of cameras was blinding, and a mob of reporters flooded the room. My breath hitched as they swarmed us, their voices rising in a chaot
Samantha’s POVThe waiting room felt suffocatingly quiet, like the world had pressed pause while Jack and I sat in the stillness. He sat hunched over, his elbows on his knees, hands clasped together as though holding himself in place. I watched him from the corner of my eye, the tension in his shoulders speaking louder than the words we weren’t saying.I wanted to reach out, to bridge the space between us, but my mind was stuck in a spiral. Clara’s press conference had gutted me. Her words—cold, sharp, and calculated—had cut into every vulnerable part of me, and the pain lingered. Even worse, the DNA revelation still gnawed at my sense of self. Was it possible? Could I really be connected to Kelvin Smith? The very idea felt like a crack forming in the foundation of my identity.Jack broke the silence with a sharp sigh, pulling me back into the present. His phone buzzed loudly in his hand, the sound jolting both of us. He looked at the screen, his jaw tightening as his thumb swiped acr
Jack's POVThe boardroom buzzed with a tension so thick it felt suffocating. Samantha sat beside me, her posture straight, hands folded neatly in her lap, and her face calm. But I knew her well enough to see through the facade. Her knuckles were pale where they pressed against each other, and every so often, her eyes darted around the table, taking in the sea of judgmental stares. She wasn't used to this level of scrutiny-not like I was-and I hated that she had to face it because of Clara.Across the table, Clara lounged in her chair like she owned the place. Her perfectly painted nails tapped lightly on the table, the sound grating against my nerves. She had the look of someone who thought she had already won. Her gaze flicked toward Samantha, sharp and cold, and I felt a surge of anger burn through me."This meeting has been called to address the current state of FinCorp," said one of the senior board members, breaking the uneasy silence. His tone was weary, as though the weight of
Samantha’s POVThe waiting room outside the press conference felt more like a cage than a refuge. I could hear the hum of voices beyond the doors, reporters murmuring, cameras clicking, microphones being tested. Each sound tightened the knot in my stomach until it felt like I could barely breathe. Jack sat beside me, his hand resting on my knee in silent reassurance, but even his touch wasn’t enough to calm the storm inside me.“You don’t have to do this,” he said softly, his voice a steady anchor. “We can find another way.”I shook my head. “We don’t have another way, Jack. Clara made sure of that.” My voice trembled despite my efforts to sound strong. “If I don’t address this now, they’ll never stop. They’ll tear me apart. They’ll tear us apart.”He didn’t respond right away. Instead, he leaned closer, his forehead brushing against mine. “No matter what they say, we’ll figure it out,” he murmured. “Just tell them the truth. Don’t let them twist it.”The truth. I let the word linger
Clara’s POVThe press conference played on the screen in front of me, Samantha’s steady voice echoing through my study. Her calm facade was convincing enough, but I saw the cracks—the hesitation, the tightness around her eyes, the faint tremor in her hand as she gripped the podium. And then she said it.“Louis Martinez is the father of my child.”My lips curled into a slow, triumphant smile. What a pathetic, desperate move. She thought naming Louis would shield her from the whispers, from the judgment. All she’d done was hand me the perfect weapon. And the irony of it? Louis would love the opportunity to strike back at her.I reached for my phone and dialed. Madame Elena answered almost immediately, her voice smooth and cold. “Clara. I take it you’ve seen the press conference?”“Oh, I’ve seen it,” I replied, swirling the wine in my glass. “The little liar just handed us everything we need.”“Louis Martinez, or should I say your husband” Elena mused, her tone thoughtful. “Interesting c
Samantha’s POVThe aftermath of the press conference left me feeling like I was walking a tightrope, every step more precarious than the last. The reporters had gotten what they wanted—an answer—but I was left with nothing but a growing pit in my stomach. Naming Louis as the father of my child had been the only way to quell the storm, but the lie hung over me like a guillotine. And worse, I didn’t know how Jack would handle it.Jack had barely spoken to me since the press conference. His quiet retreat hurt more than I cared to admit. He wasn’t angry—not outwardly—but I could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his eyes lingered on me as if searching for the person he thought he knew. I’d tried explaining it to him, tried to make him understand that I’d done it for us. For the baby. But he had simply nodded and walked away.I sat in my office at FinCorp, staring blankly at the glowing screen of my laptop. Reports, emails, stock updates—they were all meaningless right now. My thou
Jack’s POVThe night of Samantha’s press conference replayed over and over in my mind like a bad movie I couldn’t shut off. I sat alone in my penthouse, the city lights stretching out below me, but I barely noticed them. All I could see was her face, the way her voice wavered when she said his name: Louis Martinez is the father of my child.It wasn’t true—I knew it wasn’t. Samantha and I had been together, and there was no one else. So why the hell had she said it? She claimed it was to protect us, to protect the baby. But something about the way she’d looked at me afterward, the way she’d avoided my questions, made me wonder if there was more she wasn’t telling me.I picked up the glass of whiskey on the table and took a slow sip, letting the burn settle in my chest. Since the press conference, there had been a distance between us, one I wasn’t sure how to close. Every time I tried to talk to her, she either deflected or shut down completely. I’d started avoiding her too, not because
The silence in the room was heavy as Jack held the autopsy report in his hands. His eyes skimmed over the details, lingering on the revelation that brought a wave of relief and frustration all at once: Anastasia was never pregnant.“She lied to everyone,” he said, his voice sharp with disbelief.Samantha sat across from him, her expression unreadable. “Her lies almost destroyed us,” she said quietly. “But it’s over now, Jack. She can’t hurt us anymore.”Jack exhaled, his grip on the report tightening. “I let her manipulate me. I should’ve seen through it.”Samantha reached across the table, placing her hand over his. “None of us are perfect,” she said softly. “But we’re still here. Together.”Jack looked at her, her calm resolve steadying him. He nodded. “You’re right. It’s time to move forward.”The room was packed with reporters and cameras as Kelvin Smith sat at the head of the table, his wheelchair positioned at the center of the stage. Despite his physical limitations, his presen
The cold steel of the gun glinted under the dim light of the warehouse as Anastasia’s trembling hand kept the barrel pointed at Samantha. Her face was a twisted mask of rage, desperation shining in her wide, unblinking eyes.Jack stepped forward, his voice calm but firm. “Anastasia, put the gun down. You don’t want this to end badly.”“Don’t tell me what I want!” Anastasia snapped, her voice shrill and cracking. “Do you think you can just take everything from me? My family, my future, my life? No, Jack. You don’t get to decide how this ends!”“Anastasia,” Jack tried again, his arms spread wide to show he wasn’t reaching for a weapon. “You’re surrounded. The police are outside. This isn’t going to go your way.”Anastasia’s lip curled, her gaze darting between Jack and Samantha. “You think you’re so clever,” she spat at Samantha. “You think you’ve won, but you’ve ruined everything. My family is in shambles because of you!”---The police stationed at the perimeter called into the wareho
The cold concrete scraped against Samantha’s skin as she pressed her back against the storage room wall, her breathing shallow and fast. The gun in her trembling hands felt heavier with every second that passed. She couldn’t afford to let her nerves betray her now.Her escape replayed in her mind. After hours of working the ropes binding her wrists, she had finally managed to free herself. When the scarred kidnapper stormed into the room, she had acted on instinct, lunging at him and managing to wrestle his gun away during the struggle. Her heart pounded as she recalled firing the weapon, the sharp crack of the shot deafening in the confined space. The bullet had grazed his shoulder, giving her just enough time to run.Now, locked in the storage room, she tried to gather her thoughts. The sound of muffled voices and distant footsteps outside told her that the others were looking for her. She spotted a phone lying forgotten on a crate near the door—likely dropped during the scuffle. Wi
The first thing Samantha noticed as she regained consciousness was the cold. The floor beneath her was rough concrete, its chill seeping through her skin. Her wrists and ankles were bound tightly with coarse rope, leaving her hands numb from the lack of circulation. Her head throbbed, and the acrid smell of gasoline mixed with mildew filled the air, making her stomach churn.Panic surged through her as the events of the night came rushing back. The ambush. The masked men. The struggle. They had dragged her from her car and covered her mouth with a cloth that reeked of chemicals. Now she was here, wherever here was, and completely alone.She opened her eyes cautiously, blinking against the dim, flickering light of a single bulb hanging from the ceiling. The room was small, cluttered with crates and rusted tools, the kind of place no one would look twice at. A faint rumbling sound echoed through the walls. A train line? Samantha thought, her mind racing. If she could figure out her loca
Samantha’s POVThe tension in the police station was palpable as I sat beside Sisco, waiting for the detectives to finish reviewing the files we had provided. The evidence against Clara was damning: records of secret sales of Smith family properties, wire transfers to offshore accounts, and a network of shell companies designed to hide her fraudulent activities.Clara’s lawyer, a sharp-dressed man with an air of arrogance, leaned back in his chair. “This proves nothing,” he said dismissively. “My client denies all allegations and insists she is the victim of a smear campaign.”I stood, my voice firm. “Smear campaign? These are her accounts. Her signatures. Her schemes. If you want to argue that in court, go ahead. But we both know she’s guilty.”The lead detective nodded. “The evidence is conclusive. We’ll be filing additional charges of embezzlement and fraud. Ms. Smith’s leverage just disappeared.”Clara, sitting across the room, smirked despite the growing case against her. “Enjoy
Jack’s POVThe sterile white walls of the neonatal intensive care unit (NICU) blurred around me as the doctor’s words sank in. Liam needed a bone marrow transplant. Without it, his chances of survival were slim.Samantha sat beside me, clutching my hand tightly, her face pale and drawn. She had been strong through so much, but this news shattered the last of her composure.“How soon can we start?” I asked, my voice tight.“We’ll run compatibility tests on both of you,” the doctor said calmly. “If one of you is a match, we can move forward immediately.”Samantha nodded, her voice trembling as she asked, “And if neither of us is a match?”The doctor hesitated. “We’ll cross that bridge if we come to it, but we need to act quickly. Time is critical.”---The hours stretched painfully as we waited for the test results. Samantha paced the small waiting room, her arms crossed tightly as if she could shield herself from the weight of the situation. I sat motionless, staring at the floor, my m
Samantha's POVThe morning was unusually quiet, the kind of calm that made you uneasy when you knew trouble always loomed around the corner. I was nursing a cup of lukewarm coffee when the world flipped on its head once again.The news alert flashed across my phone screen: "BREAKING: Billionaire Kelvin Smith Awakens from Coma."My breath caught as I stared at the words. The man whose influence had orchestrated so much of my life, directly or indirectly, was awake. The man who was now confirmed to be my biological father.---Within an hour, the hospital was buzzing like a disturbed hive. Reporters swarmed the entrance, microphones and cameras pointed toward the building as security struggled to keep them at bay. Jack and I arrived separately, but our paths crossed as we entered the hospital's lobby."Did you know?" he asked, his tone clipped. His eyes were hard, guarded."No," I said, shaking my head. "I found out the same way you did."He studied me for a moment, his jaw tightening b
Samantha’s POVThe quiet of my apartment was a stark contrast to the chaos that had consumed my life over the past year. Liam was nestled in my arms, his tiny fingers wrapped around one of mine as he slept soundly. His soft breaths were a balm to my frayed nerves, a reminder that despite everything, this little life was my greatest triumph.I gently rocked him, letting the faint hum of the city outside lull me into a rare moment of peace. But just as I began to relax, a sharp knock on the door shattered the stillness.My heart jumped. It was late, too late for visitors. Sisco usually called before stopping by, and I hadn’t ordered anything.Another knock followed, louder this time. Liam stirred in my arms, his little face scrunching before he settled again. I stood, carefully placing him in his bassinet before making my way to the door.Peering through the peephole, my breath caught in my throat.Jack.I opened the door slowly, my heart pounding as I took in the sight of him. He stood
Jack’s POVThe message haunted me. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t push it out of my mind. I sat in the dim light of the apartment, the glow of the phone screen casting eerie shadows on the walls."Samantha Blake has just delivered a healthy baby boy."The words felt heavier each time I read them. A boy. Samantha had a son.And for the first time in months, I let myself ask the question I had buried deep: Was he mine?I gripped the phone tighter, my knuckles whitening. She had named Louis as the father, made it clear in front of the entire world. But what if that wasn’t the truth? What if the boy was mine, and she had lied to protect herself—or me?The idea twisted in my gut, a bitter mix of anger and something deeper, something more vulnerable.---Morning sunlight crept through the curtains, doing little to brighten my mood. I barely noticed Anastasia returning, her movements sharp and deliberate as she slammed the door behind her.“So, you’ve been up all night,” she said, cr