Life for Caleb and Diana had continued in a perfect, loving rhythm even though they kept receiving threats they ignored, their world revolving around the joyous anticipation of their baby. Diana’s pregnancy was well into its final stage, her belly round and prominent, a beautiful testament to the new life growing within her. Following her doctor's advice, she had stopped going to Reed Medical Centre, focusing entirely on rest and preparing for the baby's arrival. The mansion was filled with a serene quiet, broken only by the happy barks of Anchor or the soft hum of domestic bliss.One faithful afternoon, the sun streaming warm through the nursery windows, Diana was carefully folding tiny baby clothes. Her phone buzzed, and she saw it was Caleb."Hey, my love," Diana answered, her voice soft."Hey, beautiful. Just finished up a last-minute meeting. I'm heading home now," Caleb said, his voice warm and steady, a sound that always calmed her. "Should be there in about forty minutes. What

Caleb stared at Diana's phone, the paused video of Cathy and him a searing brand against his eyes. The world outside the hospital lobby, the chaos, the worried faces of his family – it all faded into a dull hum. His wife, his pregnant wife, was in surgery, fighting for her life and their child's, because of a lie, a setup, a betrayal he couldn't even begin to comprehend."She's having an emergency operation," Richard's words echoed, a cruel reminder of the stakes. "She's having an early birth."Panic clawed at Caleb's throat, a visceral terror unlike anything he'd ever known. He tried to speak, but no words came. His chest felt tight, suffocating. He just stood there, paralyzed, watching the emergency room doors, praying. Every second stretched into an eternity. His father, Daphne, K.J., Darius – their tear-streaked faces were a blur around him.Then, an eternity later, the doors finally opened. A doctor, her face serious but calm, stepped out. Caleb rushed forward, his heart pounding

The joy that filled Caleb and Diana's lives was a tangible, precious thing. Their son, a healthy baby boy, was finally strong enough to leave the neonatal intensive care unit. As they carried him from the hospital, Caleb’s heart swelled with a profound, almost overwhelming love. This was the life he had always wanted, a perfect world with his beautiful wife and his son. They named him Jasper, a name that felt strong and kind, just like the man Caleb wanted him to be. The days that followed were a whirlwind of pure, unadulterated happiness. Caleb's office work continued, but he made it a point to be home every evening, trading his business suit for comfortable clothes, spending hours simply holding Jasper, marveling at the tiny perfection of his son. Diana, in her new role as a mother, was radiant. Her days were a happy blur of feedings, cooing, and quiet moments of sheer, exhausted bliss. The old tensions, the past hurts, the fear and betrayal—it all felt like a distant nightmare, a

- Mr. Reed's POV - His Private StudyMiles away, in his opulent private study, Mr. Reed sat, sipping a late-night scotch. He had just received the call from the hospital about his daughter Diana’s distress, and he was still fuming from the earlier, abrupt conversation with Caleb. He had always mistrusted Caleb, seen him as an upstart who had taken his daughter from him. He couldn't shake the feeling Caleb was the root of all Diana's troubles.His phone buzzed, a news alert notification. He glanced at it, ready to dismiss it as more trivial news. Then he saw the headline, blazing red across his screen. His hand froze, the glass almost slipping from his fingers, clinking against the polished wood of his desk.**CALEB CALLAHAN PRESUMED DEAD IN WAREHOUSE FIRE.**He stared at the words, unblinkingly, his mind struggling to process the enormity of it. Caleb. Dead. The son of the man he’d competed with for decades, the man who had truly stolen his daughter from him. A complex, warring mix o

Weeks bled into months, each day a slow, deliberate step in Caleb's arduous journey of recovery. Diego, ever present, oversaw every aspect of his nephew's rehabilitation. The physical wounds, though deep, healed steadily, leaving behind the smooth, unfamiliar contours of a face molded by necessity. But the mind was a more fragile landscape. Caleb, now nameless to himself, was a blank slate. Diego, Elena, and even little Sofia spoke to him patiently, teaching him the most basic things, helping him grasp the simplest concepts of his new world."This is a spoon," Elena would say gently, guiding his hand. "You use it to eat soup.""Soup," he'd repeat, his voice still a little rough, the word feeling alien on his tongue. He was like a child, learning everything anew. Diego meticulously crafted a new history for him, a carefully constructed life story that would withstand scrutiny. He was "Arthur," a man who had lost his family and his memory in a tragic, unrelated accident. They even creat