Adrian sat in the dim glow of his office, documents scattered like the remnants of a storm. His father’s name appeared on every single one….contracts, emails, falsified bank statements, meeting notes—all meticulously crafted to hide the betrayal. Yet here they were. The evidence was undeniable: the man who should have been his anchor, his family, had sold out his mother. Sold out her invention. Sold out the son she had tried so desperately to protect.A cold weight settled on Adrian’s chest, heavier than he expected. Not grief. Not yet. It was a knot of rage, shock, and a sharp pang of helplessness, sharpened by the thought of Jessica. She didn’t deserve this. The baby didn’t deserve it. They had been caught in a storm of other people’s greed, pawns in a game neither had chosen. Adrian's hand just hung there above the papers. His knuckles got all white and tight. He could picture his mom back then, pacing around the lab of hers late at night. Muttering to herself while scribbling

The sea was black that night.Adrian stood at the edge of the dock as the private car pulled away, leaving him alone with nothing but the sound of waves gnawing at the wood. Ahead, a boat waited—small, sleek, its driver silent, as if trained not to ask questions.He stepped on board. The engine started with a low growl, and the island mansion loomed in the distance, a silhouette of glass and stone against a sky bruised by storm clouds.His jaw tightened.He hadn’t seen his father in over a decade. He thought he’d buried him with the bankruptcy, with the scandal, with all the lies that tore their family apart. Yet here he was, alive, thriving, hiding like a king exiled on his own private throne.The system’s voice had echoed in his head hours ago: Confront your blood, but do not break.Easier said than done.The boat docked at the base of the island, and a man in a pressed black suit was already waiting with an umbrella. “Mr. Cole,” he said with a bow, his voice rehearsed, devoid of wa

The envelope looked totally plain, it seemed almost rude in its plainness. It was just a skinny brown envelope, someone had pushed it under Jessica's apartment door. The edges were a bit bent from the rush. No stamp, no return address. Just her name written in handwriting she had not seen for ages. For a moment she could not even breathe. She stopped right there in the hallway. One hand gripped her grocery bag tight. The sounds from outside faded away…… the distant hum of cars, a neighbor's TV seeping through the wall. Everything got silent. Her heartbeat was the only thing left. It pounded loud in her ears. She leaned down slowly, part of her did not want to touch it at all. The groceries slid from her other hand to the floor, an apple rolled off across the wood planks. Her fingers finally brushed the envelope. It wasn’t heavy. It didn’t rattle with keys or metal. Just… flat. Her throat went dry. Adrian. It couldn’t be anyone else. Jessica shut the door behi

The cemetery was quiet. It was not the sort of quiet that left things feeling hollow. It carried weight instead. The wind moved through the trees, it brought along the smell of earth and leaves that had dropped.Adrian stood right there in front of the grave. He had his hands shoved way down into the pockets of his long black coat. The stone looked all shiny. It caught the dull gray color from the sky above.Evelyn Eleanor Cole.Beloved mother. Visionary. Gone too soon.Adrian clenched his jaw. His mother’s name was carved right into that marble. Still, it never seemed deep enough. Not compared to everything she had put out there, or things she had ended up losing. The flowers from other people were all wilted. He got down on his knees. He set down a new bunch of white lilies at the bottom. His fingers touched the damp soil.He stayed quiet for a second. He just stared at her name. His throat got tight. His breathing hitched a little in his chest.Then he reached into his coat slow

The rain had finally stopped.A gentle light came in through Jessica's window. It gathered on the coffee table where two mugs of tea untouched had gone cold. The place had this light scent of chamomile mixed with fresh-washed clothes. But they seemed to weigh more somehow. Especially with Adrian right there in the room.He was sitting opposite her, his hands locked together. His knuckles looked white. They stood out next to that small bruise on his wrist, it was the one clear mark from all those months. Sleepless nights. Holding back emotions.They didn't say a word.It wasn’t the same silence that used to fill their home years ago—the one thick with resentment, unspoken words, and pride.This one was different. Tired, maybe. But peaceful.Jessica traced the rim of her cup, her belly shifted beneath the thin fabric of her sweater—a quiet reminder of what was still to come.She smiled faintly. “She kicked again.”Adrian looked up, his gaze softening. He didn’t move closer, but his