Chapter 23

Lauren's POV

The hospital lights buzzed faintly overhead, their sterile glow reflecting off the glossy tiles and making the air feel colder than it was. My skin prickled as I stood near the window, the distant sounds of muffled voices and rolling gurneys filling the silence.

“You’re distracted,” Liam’s voice broke through my thoughts. He leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest, studying me like he was waiting for me to break. “Relax. It worked. He took the bait.”

“I know,” I replied, my voice a touch too sharp. “I wasn thinking about my patients.”

“Sure you are.” He stepped inside, closing the door behind him with a quiet click, leaving us close. “But I know that look.”

I hesitated, setting the clipboard on my wooden desk next to me with a soft tap.

“He’s got the scarf,” I admitted finally, my voice barely above a whisper. “And I think he… backed off. At least for now. But it still feels…”

“Wrong?” Liam offered with a shrug.

“Yeah,” I forced a laugh. He was still… her dad. Did I have the right to with hold that?

Liam’s brow furrowed, his eyes narrowing as he took a step closer. “You think he’s given up?”

“No,” I said quickly, shaking my head. “That’s just it. He’s never been the type to back down. Not unless he’s got something else planned. I… I don’t know what he’s trying to pull next. If he’s gotten false results from the wig, that only means he’s on to the next and we're in the dark again.”

Liam exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair. “Then we’re running out of time. He’s too smart to be fooled for long. If he’s already suspicious, he’ll double down.”

“I know,” I said, my voice cracking under the weight of my guilt. “I hate this. I hate that it’s come to this.”

“Lauren,” Liam’s tone softened, and he stepped closer, his hand brushing against mine. “You’re doing what you have to. For Abigail. For Owen. Don’t lose sight of that.”

I nodded, swallowing hard. “It doesn’t make it any easier. Every time I see him, I feel like I’m breaking into pieces. And he… he looks at me like he still knows me. Like he’s trying to pull me back in.”

“He’s manipulating you,” Liam said firmly. “Don’t let him. Whatever he thinks he knows, it’s not the truth. He’s chasing a ghost. You’re not her anymore.”

I wanted to believe that. I wanted to believe that Alexander was chasing a shadow, that he’d never uncover the truth. But deep down, I knew better.

“What if he figures it out?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. “What if he finds out about Abigail?”

Liam’s jaw tightened, and his eyes darkened with resolve. “We simply make sure he doesn’t. He’s clever, but so are we. And we have something he doesn’t.”

“What’s that?” I asked, my voice wavering.

“Each other,” Liam said simply. “He’s working alone, trying to piece together a puzzle he doesn’t even have all the pieces for. But we’re a team. And we’re not going to let him win.”

His words steadied me, grounding me in a way I hadn’t felt in days. I met his gaze, nodding slowly. “You’re right. We’ve come too far to let it fall apart now.”

Liam smiled faintly, a glimmer of warmth cutting through the tension. “That’s the Lauren I know.”

I let out a shaky breath, the weight on my chest easing just a fraction. “Okay. So what’s our next move?”

Liam’s expression turned serious again, his mind already working through the possibilities. “We keep an eye on him—Figure out where he’s looking next and stay ahead of him. No more surprises.”

“Agreed,” I said, my voice low and thick with intent. “I’ll be careful. No more slips.”

Liam’s gaze darkened, and his hand stayed on my shoulder a moment longer, his touch sending a shiver down my spine.

When he finally stepped back, his eyes held mine, intense and searching. “We’ll get through this, Lauren,” he murmured, his voice rougher now, the promise lingering in the air between us like an unspoken invitation.

I took another step back. Just to be sure.

Alexander's POV

The envelope was thick, heavier than I expected. I held it in my hand for a moment, the edges crisp, almost too clean. The seal was official—clinical. I didn’t need to open it to know what it contained. But I did anyway.

With a quick tear, I slid out the letter and scanned the words, my heart pounding with each line. DNA test results: Owen is biologically related to Sophia.

The words blurred for a moment as my pulse quickened, a sickening rush of confusion and disbelief crashing over me. I read it again. And again. Each time, the words felt heavier, colder.

This couldn’t be right.

My mind raced, a whirlwind of questions and emotions. After failing to test Lauren’s hair, I figure this would answer some questions, but it only left me with more.

My chest tightened, and I gripped the desk.. The letter felt like a betrayal, like the very ground beneath me had shifted and left me standing on nothing.

I wanted to throw it across the room, but I couldn’t move. Not yet.

I took a deep breath, forcing myself to stay still, to process the words again, to think through the confusion. But it was no use. My thoughts kept spiraling. If this is true... then was everything else wrong? I couldn't shake the feeling that I had been lied to, someway, somehow.

I just didn’t know who yet, but it didn’t heal the knife this left in my gut.

Sophia's POV

I stood just outside the office door, watching Alexander through the crack, my lips curling into a small, satisfied smile. He had no idea I was there, but I could see his face—darkened, stricken with something I could only describe as panic.

So, he had been snooping where he shouldn’t. How predictable. I’d had a feeling. He thought he could uncover something, didn’t he? Foolish. Not with me, my dear Alexander.

I watched him clutch the letter, his hand trembling slightly as he read it over and over. His eyes widened like a man who’d just had his world turned upside down. Confusion. Fear? How pathetic. The anger I expected wasn’t there. No, instead, there was a vulnerability I hadn’t anticipated. It was almost... amusing.

It was too perfect, too easy. I’d made sure of that. The perfect trap— I carefully crafted Owen’s hair dyed like my own, left for him to find. And yet, there he was, hesitating, second-guessing himself. The look on his face told me he wasn’t entirely convinced.

Part of me almost wanted to walk in, confront him, and reassure my future husband that everything was fine. But the darker part of me, the one that reveled in control, wanted to savor this moment a little longer.

I won a battle. Next, the war.

I lingered in the silence, listening to him squirm, before turning away with a slow, knowing smile. Let him figure it out. Either way, it wouldn’t change a thing.