Lyla’s POV So finally you've decided to come out clean? I said looking sternly, my face laced with fury. A pang of guilt flickered in his eyes, yet he remained calm. “Lyla… I didn’t betray you.”I scoffed, is that so?. “Really? Hope you remember I saw those photos of you and Vanessa.”He sighed heavily. Honestly Lyla I'm lost of words, I know nothing I say now can change how you perceive me, but _“It’s not what you think.”“Then explain.” Make me understand better, I'm listening, I said , folding my arms and gently hitting my foot against the hard floor. He gradually ran a hand through his hair, frustration clearly written all over his face. “Vanessa and I—it was all a setup. She wanted to manipulate you.”I scoffed. “And you let her?”“Well, I didn’t have a choice.” He said exhaling sharply. “She had something on me.And if I didn’t play along, she would’ve handed Bailey over to the architect weeks ago.”My breath hitched. Weeks?“Does that mean she planned this from the start?”C
Bailey's POV An instant pang of pain was what I felt. That was the initial sensation I experienced upon waking up. A continuous, monotonous pain in my side, each inhalation a reminder of how near I had been to death. I struggled to open my eyes, my sight initially unclear. Lyla dozed off in a chair next to me, with her arms folded and her body tight even while resting. Collins stood by the door, softly talking on his phone. I inhaled gently. "Are we alive?" Lyla jolted awake, her eyes wide open. "Bailey?" I gave a faint smile. "You seem to be in terrible shape." She emitted a strangled laugh, her eyes shining with relief. "Sure, but you appear in worse shape." Collins moved ahead. “What are your feelings?” I moved a bit, grimacing. "Feels like I was shot." He let out a breathy laugh. "That would be correct." Lyla moved in closer. "We're organizing our upcoming action." The Architect's work is not complete. "We must conclude this before he discovers us once more." I compe
Bailey's POV I wasn’t meant to be here, because the anger I felt from within could make me cause havoc before realizing it. I explained all this to Lyla, but she pleaded with me to stay behind, letting her and Collins handle it.But this was my fight too.The architect has stolen my life before I ever understood its worth. He led me, altered my past, twisted my perception of reality. But now, I was taking it all back.We moved under the cover of darkness, our group slipping through the night like aliens . The architect's underground facility was a fortress, but we had one advantage.Vanessa.She betrayed the architect for us or so we thought, but it was for herself. She knew he would kill her the moment he decided she was a liability. She gave us everything: security codes, guard rotations, even the location of his panic room.All that was left was the execution.Collins and Chad struck first, eliminating the perimeter guards with brutal efficiency. Silenced gunfire cut through the
Jace POV Jace stood there at the center of the living room, thoughts of Sasha’s betrayal weighed on him like an impending storm. The sound of her footsteps gradually vanishing as she marched up the stairs to gather her belongings, creating a silence that felt so unlike her but yet overwhelming. Lyla stood several inches back, observing him sparingly and thinking of all possible ways of calming the tension already rising within him, uncertain if he would be in rage or crumble beneath his feelings. "Jace?" she spoke softly, her tone a calming balance to the turmoil within him. He let out a very sharp breath and brushed his hair back with his hand. "I ought to have figured it out sooner." "I ought to have realized how deceitful and dangerous she could be the whole time." Lyla moved closely towards him and held him by the shoulder. "At times, we hope to see the good in others—even when they haven’t earned it." He raised his head staring deeply into her eyes, his face a clear indica
Jace’s POVThe following morning, Jace got up to the noise of his phone ringing violently on his nightstand. Moaning softly, he stretched out his hand for it, squinting at the morning brightness as he replied. "Really?" who could be calling me this early. "Jace, Bro, you have to check this out," his friend Ryan said, sounding intense and rather disturbed. "Take a look at the news." Immediately. Jace sat up abruptly, his heart racing as he grabbed the remote and turned on the TV. The morning news aired, and he felt a chill run through him at the sight of Sasha’s face displayed on the screen, her name highlighted in bold text underneath. It read; “Local Socialite Sasha Reynolds Unveils Ex-Fiancé’s Treachery in Surprising Interview”. Jace felt a knot in his stomach when the screen showed Sasha in what appeared to be a high-end café, her makeup flawless, portraying the image of the heartbroken victim. "Jace Karev and I were meant to begin a family," she stated, her voice quivering s
Jace POV Jace and Lyla never expected that their urgent search for justice would bring them face-to-face with the person behind their misfortune—Mike Kensington. The gathering was unplanned. It was a snare. Having just evaded capture at the train station, they received a communication from an unknown sender. "Join me at Warehouse 19." Are you interested in Kensington? "I can hand him over to you." Jace and Lyla were aware it was a gamble, but with no alternative clues and Kensington strengthening his hold on the city, they had no option. They showed up at the deserted warehouse right before midnight. The atmosphere was filled with the scent of rust and oil, while the faint yellow lights above them flickered. Shadows stretched ominously, complicating the effort to determine if they were by themselves. "This doesn't seem right," Lyla murmured, holding tightly to the firearm she had acquired from an officer at the station. Jace surveyed the surroundings. "Remain nearby." "If this
Jace’s POV Both I and Lyla stepped out carefully from the underground passage, our bodies filled with adrenaline. The side street was unsettlingly silent, yet we understood not to think that we were finally safe. The USB's weight in Jace's pocket seemed more burdensome than usual. It presented their sole opportunity to vindicate themselves and reveal the corruption that had engulfed their lives entirely. Lyla's hands shook a bit as she called Ryan. "Answer, answer," she whispered to herself. At last, Ryan responded. "Let me know you’re okay." “Right now,” Lyla murmured. "We have the evidence." "We must release this before they discover our location." Ryan paused. "That will be more challenging than we expected." Kensington possesses strong ties. He is already steering the media storyline. The official narrative claims that you and Jace are wanted fugitives, sought for financial offenses and hindering justice. They refer to you as a perilous pair. "They've issued an APB for the tw
Jace’s POV Smoke and rubble filled the observatory’s entrance as operatives dressed in black rushed in equipped with silencers and night-vision equipment. Jace pulled Lyla behind a control panel, heart racing. Ryan lifted his hands, yelling, “They require me to be alive!” However, they did not arrive to discuss terms. A bullet struck Ryan in the shoulder, knocking him down to the ground. He shouted as Jace dragged Lyla into a crawl space beneath the floorboards. The ground echoed with the sound of heavy boots above. Lyla murmured, “We’re confined.” Jace's thoughts raced. “Nope.” "We have a single opportunity." He pulled the hard drive from the observatory’s central terminal—encrypted videos, AI records, and the main key to the monitoring network. Ryan moaned, blood gathering underneath him. "You must complete it." The AI—they refer to it as Project Black Protocol. It is already coordinating across boundaries. "They are utilizing your code, Jace." Jace paused—then reached a hars
Bailey's POV The guest bathroom was quiet, too quiet. Bailey stood over the sink, clutching her phone like it might burn her skin. Her thumb hovered over the number.“K.”No last name. No picture. No call history before now.She opened the contact.Nothing but a blank number. No clues. No metadata. Just one thing: the message had come from that number moments before the call was logged.Her heart thudded. She could hear laughter outside the door—her family, the new found peace. She didn’t want to disrupt that. Not again.But the name. "Protected Asset".Why her?There was a time when she believed everything Lyla told her. That they were simply survivors of a dangerous time. That they had gotten lucky. That the world was finally safe again. But the older Bailey got, the more her instincts sharpened—and they had been whispering for months now.There were gaps in her story.Memories that felt inserted. Emotions that didn’t align. And now this strange call that she didn’t make.Outside t
The Thanksgiving HourLyla's POV The scent of cinnamon and toasted rosemary drifted through the house like a calming melody, wrapping each room in a warmth that made time appear to stretch. The living room boomed with the soft hum of old jazz records playing on a speaker Lyla refused to replace. In the backyard, the kids laughed with joy, their laughter riding the swing set into the soft golden light of late afternoon.Inside the kitchen, Lyla stood over the mashed potatoes, her sleeves rolled up and her face dripping of sweat which she wiped off occasionally with her elbow.She stirred them methodically, humming along with the music while her apron—one Claire had gifted her years ago that read Master of the House—absorbs the chaos of cooking.“Hey!” Chad called from the stove at the other side of the kitchen. “Do sweet potatoes burn faster if you stare at them?”Lyla laughed. “Yes. The potatoes can sense fear.”Bailey entered with her hair up in a high ponytail and two pies balance
Bailey's POV The rain came down in a quiet drizzle as Bailey wandered the campus garden, the fog from her breath mingling with the early morning chill. Her textbooks were still in her bag, unread. Sleep had eluded her. Not from exams or stress.But because of that dream again.The same hallway. White tile. The same phrase clung into her memory like a scar.“She was never supposed to know.”She had not told anyone yet, not even Lyla. But last night, she had stayed late in the medical lab and submitted a sample for a DNA test—one she had been carrying around in her mind for months but never had the courage to confront.She will have the results by tonight.And a feeling deep in her chest told her nothing would be the same after that.Jace paced in the hidden room beneath the clinic. It had been two days since they found Becky’s twisted letter to Bailey, and still, the questions piled higher than answers.Lyla sat across him, surrounded by old files. A folder already damaged with water
Jace POV The next morning, the sun was already hot against the windows of Karev Medical & Wellness center. Jace had barely managed three hours of sleep.Lyla made him coffee while reviewing files. Neither spoke about the trapdoor, the lily, or the voice message just yet. Not until they had more information.The bell above the door chimed.Jace looked up—and froze.An elderly man in a tailored navy coat stepped inside. He walked with a slow, deliberate limp. Silver hair, sharp eyes. Something about him screamed military or something worse.The man held out a letter. “Dr. Jace Karev?”“Yes,” Jace said carefully.“I was told you’re the only one who can help.”Jace opened the letter.It was hand-written. “This man should be dead. On record, he is. But he isn’t. Help him—and you’ll start to understand what they erased from your past.Don’t trust the files.From_A Friend.”Jace gasped. “Who gave you this?”The man looked around nervously. “She told me to come here. A woman with short dark
Bailey's POV The emergency lights flickered in the archive room, throwing Bailey and Callum into crimson shadows. The girl—A-11—stood eerily calm between the cabinets.Bailey’s breath hitched. She couldn’t look away.Same height. Same build. Same eyes.But there was something off about her… like a reflection bent by time and darkness.“You’re lying,” Bailey whispered. “I don’t have a sister.”“No,” the girl replied coolly, “you have an upgraded prototype.”A-11 stepped forward, lifting a finger and tapping the metal case with a smug smile. “Everything you need to know about me is in there. Right next to the pages that say you were supposed to be terminated before age five.”Bailey recoiled. “Terminated?”Callum moved protectively in front of her.The girl chuckled. “Relax. You’re useful now.”Gunshots echoed again in the distance.“They’re coming,” she added. “You have two minutes before this place gets turned into ash. Make a choice, Bailey. Come with me—or die like the others.”Bail
Jace POVJace was overwhelmed at the quick completion of his clinic, one that he has always wanted to own but his father insisted he carries on with the family business after the demise of his elder brother.But right now, everything was finally falling into place and he couldn't be less excited.At last, he'll be able to practice as a neurologist, something he has wanted all his life.The morning air held the faint scent of rain, the pavement still damp from an early downpour. Jace stood just beneath the bronze plaque as the drill clicked off, leaving behind the last echo of steel on the brick.KAREV MEDICAL & WELLNESS CENTER Dr. Jace KarevThe words unscripted in gold glittered caught in the rising sun like a diamond carved into metal.He took a step back, arms crossed, heart beating just a little faster than he would like to admit. Not for the plaque—but for what it meant.A clean slate.He hadn’t told his father. He hasn't seen the need to. For once, Jace wasn’t chasing legacy. H
Bailey's POVIt was the beginning of the year in medical school,Bailey Turner had never been so excited as she would finally be a neurosurgeon, it's something she had wanted right from her childhood.She got to the gate and waited beneath the arch of St. Clair Medical School’s East Wing, the frosty morning air pulling at the tips of her chestnut hair. She gripped the strap of her schoolbag as though it were a soothing relief to the tension already building within her and gazed up at the building's glass exterior. Rain had created lines on the surface resembling ghost fingers. She took a deep breath.This wasn’t just any school. It was the dream Claire had whispered into her ear since childhood. It was the life that had almost been stolen from her again and again—by shadows, betrayal, and secrets that still clung to her skin like smoke.Now? It was hers.She stepped through the door, clutching the faded photo of her, Lyla, and Claire one last time before sliding it into her coat.Room
Becky’s POV “No, this is unacceptable. None of this makes sense,” Becky said, her voice raised as she ransacked her old hospital files. “If we are not her parents, then where did she come from?”Chad lifted a dusty box marked “Olivia – Birth.”Inside were photos, documents, the footprint card… and then—“Where’s the birth certificate?” he asked.Becky froze.“I… it was always there.”They tore through every folder, drawer, envelope. Nothing.Chad turned pale. “She must have taken it.”“Lyla?”He nodded. “She knew this day would come.”But Becky noticed something else in the box—a small piece of paper tucked inside a baby photo. It wasn’t handwritten. It was typed, and it was coded.It read:"Room 408. 11:47 p.m. Not the one she expected. Claire switched the vial."Becky’s eyes widened. “Claire again.”She immediately pulled out her phone from her purse and dialed a number. “Who are you calling?” Chad asked inquisively. “An old contact,shs said. Someone who worked night shifts that
Lyla’s POV Lyla rose from her seat. This time, her expression faltered —just slightly.“She was never supposed to be mine,” she began quietly. “When I found out Chad cheated, I was furious. I wanted out, but I couldn’t lose everything at once. I had just discovered he was infertile.”Becky stared at her. “So you stole—”“No,” Lyla interrupted. “I made a deal.”She turned to the judge. “That hospital wasn’t just where Becky was restrained. It was where I paid to have her artificially inseminated.”Gasps exploded in the courtroom.“What?” Chad stood again. “That’s not possible. That’s not—”“She signed consent while sedated,” Lyla said. “Technically, the paperwork was in order. I chose the donor. I ensured the embryo was viable.”Becky clutched the side of the wooden chair to keep herself from falling.“You turned me into a surrogate?”Lyla didn’t blink. “You were already falling apart. I gave you purpose.”The judge stared in horror. “This… This is a criminal offense. This is beyond