Elena froze, shocked at her mother’s sudden outburst. Her chest heaved; she could barely catch her breath, desperate to break free from Rita’s tight grip.“What’s gotten into you, Mother?” Elena gasped, struggling against her mother’s hold.Rita’s eyes widened, her tone laced with drama. “What are you saying, Lena? Don’t you understand that walls have ears? What you just said… it could get you arrested—or worse. Especially now that Franco doesn’t love you anymore!”Elena recoiled, her voice trembling. “But what did I say wrong? I was only stating my own opinion—that Franco could be the father of the child. It’s nothing but my own line!”Rita tightened her grip briefly, her face pale with urgency. “And that opinion of yours can get you into serious trouble!” she said sharply. “Franco is a highly influential figure now. He can do anything, however he wants. Do you really think he’ll let something like this slide when you’re making such a huge allegation without any evidence?”Elena’s ha

Alyana froze at the hearing of what her son had asked her. Of all the possibilities she had imagined, this was the one she least expected. The name alone carried a weight she never wanted to acknowledge, much less hear spoken so casually by her child.Her chest tightened.That answer—that truth—was something she had prayed would never become a reality.Even with anger flashing briefly across her face, she forced herself to remain calm. She reached out, gripping Oscar’s small shoulders firmly, grounding both of them.“No, my dear,” Alyana said, her voice sharp but controlled. She shook her head once for emphasis. “He is not your Papa.”Oscar blinked, startled by the sudden firmness in her tone.Alyana softened immediately, pulling him into her arms as though shielding him from the very thought she was trying so desperately to bury.Alyana forced a smile, hoping that would end the conversation.But Oscar shook his head stubbornly, curls bouncing.“If he’s not my Papa,” he said earnestl

The night slipped by faster than Franco expected, and before he knew it, dawn had broken.Sleep hadn’t been kind to him. He had spent the entire night replaying everything that had happened the previous day—from the unexpected face-to-face encounter with Alyana to the little boy who had looked straight at him and called him Dad.His conscience burned.What was he supposed to believe now?Could Oscar truly be his son… or was this some cruel twist of fate?Franco dragged a hand over his face and shook his head sharply, as though he could physically fling the thought away.“I never did anything that would result in a pregnancy,” he muttered to himself. “He can’t possibly be my son.”That was what he kept telling himself.Or maybe… that was simply what he wanted to believe.But how long would he continue pretending to be the hero in his own version of the story?He needed the truth.Or perhaps he was terrified of what that truth might be.Standing beneath the shower, Franco pushed his wet

“I already gave you a response, and it is no!” Alyana snapped, her voice echoing through the hallway. She didn’t hesitate for even a second. “I don’t want to have a word with any of you. So you both can get lost!” She folded her arms tightly across her chest, her glare sharp enough to cut. “What other form of response do you need before leaving my house? Or do you want me to call the cops on you?”Muna exhaled slowly and brushed her hair back, masking her irritation with a thin smile. Beside her, Franco’s patience was already wearing thin; the tight clench of his jaw betrayed him.Just as he had suspected, Alyana was causing a scene.He had known from the start that she would say—or do—something explosive. It was exactly the kind of confrontation he had hoped to avoid. Still, forcing himself to remain composed, Franco stepped forward and softened his tone.“Listen to me, Miss Blackwood,” he said calmly, lifting his hands in a mild gesture of surrender. “We’re not here to fight. Do you

This was the very question Alyana had waited years to hear.For so long, she had dreamed of the day Franco would hold her close, look into her eyes, and ask her to be the mother of his child—ask her to let him be the father of her babies. She had imagined the warmth in his voice, the sincerity in his gaze, the certainty of love behind the words.She had wished for that day more times than she could count.And now—look.The day had finally come.But she felt nothing.No joy. No excitement. No fulfillment of a long-cherished desire.Instead, her heart felt heavy.If Franco had asked her alone—if he had chosen her and only her—it would have meant everything. She would have given him her answer without hesitation.But that was not what was happening.Franco wasn’t asking out of love.He was demanding.“I will become Oscar’s father,” Franco said firmly, his jaw tightening. “And in return, Muna will be Oscar’s mother.”The words landed like a blow to her chest.Alyana stared at him, disbeli