Alysha Jarl

Ivan’s world tilted off its axis as the reality of the situation crashed into him. Alysha Jarl. The woman standing in front of him, the one holding the little girl with his eyes, was Armin’s long-lost wife.

The same woman he had shared that one unforgettable night with, the one he couldn’t forget no matter how hard he tried. And the child—their child—there was no denying the truth. One look at her, and he knew. She was his daughter.

The shock of it left him breathless, his mind struggling to process the chaos unraveling before him. His gaze flicked between Arisha—Alysha—and the child she clutched protectively. The truth was a sharp, cutting blade, and he felt its sting.

Meanwhile, Bjorn seemed lost in his own obsession, his eyes blazing as he confronted her. “I am talking about your little sister, Andrine!” he barked, crossing his arms with a look of pure determination. “Where the hell is she? Where is your family hiding her?”

Arisha’s face twisted in confusion and panic. Her eyes dar