“Not again with your ridiculous suspicions,” Damian snapped. “It’s not what you think at all!”

“Then explain this to me,” I shot back. “You and Nathaniel both drove tonight, so why did it have to be you who took her home?”

A flash of irritation crossed his face before he let out a long breath. “Emilia, are you seriously being jealous of Adriana again? How many times do I need to repeat myself? I only see her as family.”

“She’s alone in this city,” he went on smoothly. “Separated from her partner, raising a child by herself. How can you not feel even a little compassion? She and I grew up together. I won’t abandon her when she needs help.”

“If she’s truly struggling,” I countered, stepping out of his grip, “then why is she so eager to merge your company with ours? Does she even understand how dangerous that move is for you?”

Damian looked displeased but softened his tone as he tried to pacify me. “You should stop involving yourself in things you don’t understand. Stay at home and focus on what you’re good at. Once both corporations merge, our influence will double. It’s a strategic advantage.”

He stepped closer, pressing a light kiss to my forehead as he held my hand. “Don’t exhaust your mind over this, Emilia. You’re about to become a mother. If you’re always this suspicious, how will you raise our child properly?”

I smiled faintly at that—at the man I’d been married to for three years, who still didn’t even know that I had already lost our baby because of his neglect.

“Wasn’t it you,” I said softly, “who told your friends that because I grew up without parents, I wouldn’t know how to raise a child—and that Adriana would have to teach me?”

The color drained from his face.

“Were you spying on me?” he barked. “You misunderstood everything! I was drunk that night—I didn’t even know what I was saying. I never meant it that way.”

I opened my mouth to reply, but his phone rang suddenly. Victoria’s name flashed across the screen.

He hesitated—until I nodded for him to answer.

The moment he picked up, a child’s cheerful voice spilled through the speaker.

“Daddy! I miss you! When are you coming to play with me and Mommy? When will you both come back?”

Horror crept across Damian’s face when he realized I had heard every word.

“Mark,” he said quickly, forcing a gentle tone, “you should call me your uncle, not that.”

“Why?” the boy asked innocently. “Mommy said I could call you my dad.”

Damian stiffened before hurriedly responding, “Your mother is with me right now. We’ll be back soon.”

Then he ended the call.

“Emilia—”

I was too emotionally drained to argue anymore.

With empty eyes, I nodded. “You can do whatever you want.”

I turned to leave, but he wrapped his arms around me from behind.

“You just don’t know how to adapt,” he murmured. “I can’t always cater to your emotions. But from now on, I’ll stay close and help take care of our baby.”

He leaned down and brushed a soft kiss against my cheek.

---

I hadn’t even made it home yet when a message from Nathaniel popped up on my phone:

[ Sister-in-law, Adriana is severely ill. Damian won’t be coming home tomorrow. ]

Tomorrow, Damian was supposedly hosting a grand welcome banquet for Adriana’s company. Since I had openly opposed the corporate merger, it was clear now—my presence was never part of his plans.

My hands trembled as I stared at the screen.

Then I opened social media.

Adriana’s post was the first thing I saw:

“Shopping for tomorrow’s celebration—trying to find matching outfits for my two favorite men.”

The photo showed my husband holding her son in his arms while Adriana leaned affectionately against his shoulder.

My vision blurred.

“Ma’am, look down!” the driver suddenly shouted in terror.

My tears stopped instantly as I lifted my head—just in time to see a massive truck barreling straight toward us. The steering wheel jerked sharply, but it was already too late.

The collision came with a deafening crash.

The car flipped violently, metal screeching, glass shattering.

“Mom… Dad… Brother…”

Fragments of my past flashed through my mind like broken scenes from a film.

Blood streamed down my shoulder as I shakily lifted my phone and dialed the one number I had been too ashamed to call for years.

My father answered on the first ring, his voice stern—but edged with concern.

“Emilia? Why are you calling now—”

“D-Dad…” My breathing was erratic. I could barely force the words out.

“I’m s-so sorry… for letting you and Mom down. I love you all…”

The phone slipped from my fingers as darkness closed in.

I welcomed it quietly—without once thinking about the people who had turned my life into a living hell.

Through fading consciousness, I heard my father’s desperate voice echo through the line:

“Emilia! Emilia! Where are you?! Answer me! Where are you, my daughter?!”

By the time my father reached the crash site, he had already ordered an entire team of the nation’s top specialists to prepare for emergency surgery.

It was my eldest brother, Julian, who tore open the twisted car door with his bare hands to pull me out.

The driver hadn’t survived.

The moment my father saw me, his face drained of all color.

I was rushed into the emergency unit in his arms.

“Sir… your daughter’s pulse is extremely weak,” the doctor reported urgently. “It appears she was involved in a previous accident not long ago and had already undergone surgery. And…” He hesitated.

“And what?” my brother Jake demanded.

“She has suffered a miscarriage,” the doctor continued grimly. “Her body is too fragile to endure another operation right now. The only option is to use electrical defibrillation to attempt to stabilize her heartbeat.”

The doctor left immediately after my father gave his consent.

“But Dad, what if—”

“There is no ‘what if,’” my father cut in sharply. “Emilia is my daughter. She will survive. She has to.”

My mother, Elena, clutched his arm tightly. Tears filled her eyes, but beneath them burned uncontrollable fury.

“She called me,” my father said hoarsely, his voice breaking for the first time in years. “Right before the accident. She was terrified…”

“My precious girl thought she was a burden,” my mother whispered, trembling with rage. “The man who made her feel that way—I’ll make sure his regret lasts a lifetime.”

---

At the same time, an unexplainable unease crept over Damian.

He reached for his phone to call me—only for Adriana to stop him.

“You should give her space,” she said gently. “She’s probably already home, trying to calm down.”

Damian hesitated, then nodded. “If I give in now, she’ll only get used to throwing tantrums.”

---

The following morning, he called the house staff.

“Is Emilia awake yet? Why isn’t she answering her phone? Let me speak to her—I’m at her favorite café. Ask her what she wants.”

“But, sir… Mrs. Damian didn’t come home last night.”

A sharp pang pierced his chest. Still, he forced himself to remain calm.

She must be at the office, ignoring him out of spite.

“Put me through to her supervisor.”

“Yes… this is Sarah,” the woman replied, startled by the unexpected call.

“Tell Emilia to answer the phone immediately. How could she be this reckless and not contact me even once—”

“I’m sorry, but Emilia didn’t come to work today.”

“What do you mean… she’s not at home either?”

His confidence crumbled with every passing second.

Then the television mounted on the café wall abruptly changed to a breaking news broadcast.

The headline froze him in place:

[HEIRESS Emilia REYNOLDS CRITICALLY INJURED IN A DEVASTATING CAR CRASH]

At that very moment, his phone buzzed with a group call from his mother and Adriana. Adriana was sobbing while his mother tried to soothe her.

“Damian, the welcome banquet has been canceled,” his mother said. “No one will attend any celebration when the nation’s heiress is fighting for her life. Adriana is terribly shaken—”

“I don’t care!” Damian snapped for the first time in his life.

“The banquet means nothing when I don’t even know where my wife is!”

“What? Emilia disappeared?” his mother scoffed coldly. “To think she’d act so immature while pregnant—Damian, you never should’ve married that orphan—”

The phone slipped from his hand before she could finish.

His blood turned to ice as the news screen shifted to a family feature photo.

A powerful billionaire patriarch and his wife were seated at the center, flanked by two successful sons. On the man’s lap sat a little girl, cradled with unmistakable affection.

The caption confirmed what his heart already feared.

Emilia Reynolds.

The billionaire heiress.

Pampered. Protected. Cherished beyond measure.

Only then did he truly notice it—

The same golden-blonde hair.

The faint black streak running through it.

Even the same name.

His wife… and the missing heiress…

Were the same person.