Chapter 3

Author’s POV

At the Rivera mansion, the air was heavy with the scent of freshly brewed coffee as Nicole curled up on the plush armchair in the living room. The steady patter of last night’s rain still lingered in the chilly morning air, making her crave the warmth of her mug. Her gaze darted between the numerous newspapers spread before her, her sharp eyes scanning every headline and detail with an intensity only she could muster.

Delaney, the house help, walked in carrying yet another stack of freshly delivered papers, her arms burdened with the weight of the day’s news.

“There seems to be a lot of buzz today,” Nicole remarked, setting down her half-empty mug. Her voice carried a tinge of curiosity as she spoke to her husband, Copper, who had just emerged from their bedroom, still buttoning his shirt.

“Let’s hope the stock market’s dipped in our favor. That would be news worth celebrating,” Copper replied dryly, his voice betraying the fatigue of another long day managing the Rivera Corporation. The weight of running the family empire had fallen on his shoulders after his elder brother Ethan’s untimely death. His marriage to Nicole a year later had brought stability but no children, a source of quiet sorrow for the couple.

Nicole’s fingers traced the edge of a newspaper as she flipped to the next page, her interest piqued by a bold headline: The Seattle Prison Burnt Down Last Night. Her brows furrowed as she scanned the report.

“Copper, come here. You need to see this,” she called, her voice laced with urgency.

Copper moved closer, and together, they read the chilling details:

The Seattle Prison was engulfed in flames late last night. Preliminary reports suggest the fire originated in the washroom before rapidly spreading through the facility. Casualties include both inmates and officers. The death toll stands at 8 prisoners and 4 police officers, with 10 prisoners and 2 guards severely injured.

Nicole’s grip on the paper tightened. “Isn’t that where Elaine was imprisoned?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Copper nodded grimly. “Let’s keep reading,” he urged, his face etched with a mixture of concern and disbelief.

Among those believed to have started the fire is Elaine Rivera, convicted of murdering her husband, Ethan Rivera. Surveillance footage shows Elaine attempting to escape during the chaos but being shot and falling into the Seattle River. Authorities have yet to recover her body, and with last night’s heavy rain causing the river to overflow, her survival is deemed unlikely.

Nicole gasped audibly. “They’re saying Elaine is dead?”

Copper’s frown deepened. “That’s what it looks like.”

Nicole’s eyes lit up, a spark of excitement breaking through her composed exterior. “Copper, do you know what this means? Autumn… we can finally have her.” Her voice quivered with suppressed anticipation.

Copper sighed heavily. “Nicole, Autumn won’t just forget Elaine overnight and call you her mother. She’s a headstrong child, just like her mother was.”

“She’ll come around,” Nicole countered, her determination unshaken. “Once she knows her real mother is gone, she’ll have no choice.” Grabbing the newspaper, she strode purposefully toward Autumn’s room.

The seven-year-old was sprawled on the carpet, her small hands busy with crayons and a half-finished drawing. She looked up as Nicole entered, her bright eyes narrowing slightly.

“Good morning, Aunt Nicole,” Autumn greeted politely, though her tone lacked warmth.

Nicole bent down to press a kiss to the girl’s cheek. “Good morning, sweet cake. How did you sleep?”

Autumn shrugged. “The rain was too loud. It kept me awake.”

Nicole’s lips curled into a bittersweet smile. She couldn’t help but marvel at the strange connection between mother and child. The very night Elaine had supposedly died, her daughter had been restless.

“Next time it rains, I’ll stay with you,” Nicole promised, though Autumn simply nodded and returned to her drawing.

Nicole’s gaze fell on the picture—a tall woman holding the hand of a small child.

“Who’s that?” she asked, her voice soft.

“That’s my mommy and me,” Autumn replied matter-of-factly, adding the finishing touches to her mother’s dress.

Nicole’s smile faltered, but she quickly masked her disappointment. Soon, she thought, the little girl would understand who her real family was.

Autumn carefully labeled the picture “Mommy and Autumn” before tucking it away in a drawer filled with other cherished mementos of her mother.

“That’s lovely,” Nicole said, patting the child’s head before leaving the room. As needy as she was to have the girl as her own, it was not the right moment to break her heart on the news of her mothers death yet.

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Elaine’s POV

The rhythmic drumming of rain against the windows echoed in my memory. I could see myself pulling the curtains shut to keep out the cold as Autumn snuggled beside me, her tiny voice reading aloud from her favorite storybook. The door creaked open, and there he was—Ethan, his suit slightly damp, his charming smile lighting up the room.

“Daddy, Daddy!” Autumn squealed, leaping into his arms.

He chuckled, ruffling her cherry-brown hair as he handed her a bag of chocolate-dipped cookies. “Cookies for my princess,” he announced.

Her delighted giggle filled the room as she scampered off to enjoy her treat, leaving Ethan and me alone. From behind his back, he produced a single red rose and a small jewelry box. My heart swelled as he fastened a heart-shaped diamond necklace around my neck, whispering, “Look at you. You shine like a diamond.”

The memory dissolved as I forced my eyes open, the past giving way to the harsh reality of the present. Pain surged through my body, a cruel reminder of my fall and the gunshot that had torn through me. Tears welled up, but I couldn’t lift my hand to wipe them away. Every movement sent waves of agony through me, and the fragments of memory felt like a cruel joke.

The shots. The river. And then... someone saving me. I shut my eyes again, surrendering to the flood of images and emotions. The past clung to me, a lifeline in the darkness.

But beneath it all, one thought persisted: Autumn. My daughter. I had to survive—for her.