CHAPTER 22- SHUT OUT "Kelvin…” Diana’s voice was a whisper, torn between pleading and breaking. She looked up at him, eyes wide, searching for something—mercy, recognition, anything.Harry stepped forward, his voice cutting through the fragile silence. “Diana.”Kelvin’s eyes hardened, his shoulders squaring. That name, that voice—on this street, in this moment—it made something fierce burn inside him.The realtor, still standing by the door, blinked at the scene unraveling before him, clutching his folder as if it might shield him from the storm.Diana’s hands shook as she reached for Mia again, but the little girl clutched her tiny fists against her chest, torn. Her lips parted, a whisper only a mother could hear: “Mummy…”Diana’s stomach dropped. She twisted halfway, desperate to block Mia’s view, to make Harry disappear somehow, but it was too late.Kevin’s jaw was already clenched. His eyes—those familiar, guarded eyes—were locked on the scene before him, and she could practicall

CHAPTER 24 – MIA'S PRAYERThe door creaked open, and Kevin’s breath caught.“Joyce?” His voice was rough, more smoke than sound.She stood there on the porch, perfectly put together as always, though her eyes widened the second she caught sight of him. “Kevin—are you okay? I smelled smoke from down the street.”He scrubbed a hand down his face, trying not to cough. “Yeah. I’m fine. Everything’s fine.”Joyce didn’t wait for an invitation. She pushed past him, heels clicking against the polished floor. The second she stepped into the kitchen, she froze. Smoke still curled like ghosts in the air, the alarm blaring overhead.“Jeez, Kevin! What the hell happened in here?” She rushed to the windows, flinging them open with a sharp tug, letting the evening air sweep in.“Pretty Aunty!”Joyce turned just in time for Mia to barrel into her arms. Joyce bent down, scooping her up with practiced ease.“Hey, buttercup,” Joyce said warmly, planting a kiss on Mia’s cheek. “How are you doing?”Mia po

CHAPTER 26 – SHACKLES OF FAMILY Diana’s heels clicked against the marble, but she didn’t move fast enough as shame and fury wrestled inside her.“You’re just going to let her talk to me like that?” she spat, voice trembling but sharp.Kelvin’s jaw tightened. “After everything you’ve done, Diana… do you even hear yourself?”“I didn’t mean for it to get this far!” she cried, hands clenching. “I was trying to fix everything!”Joyce stepped closer, calm but lethal. “Fix? Darling, you made the mess bigger. Ignored Mia, bought a house for a stranger… and now you expect forgiveness?”Diana’s chest heaved, tears and rage mixing. “I just wanted Mia to have… something better than nothing!”Kelvin’s eyes darkened. “Too late. You’ve crossed lines you can’t uncross. You’ve lost her trust… and maybe mine too.”A bitter laugh escaped Diana. “Lost me? You think you can tell me I’ve lost something I’ve been fighting for?!”Without another word, she spun on her heel, fury blazing, and stormed down the

CHAPTER 28 – A FAMILY IN PERILThe phone was still warm in Patrik’s palm when he threw it onto the bed like it had personally insulted him. His chest rose and fell in ragged breaths, anger slicing through his veins.“Fuck the Arizonas,” he spat again, pacing the room like a caged beast. His jaw ticked, his fists clenched, every nerve screaming for blood.That arrogant bastard thought an apology would fix everything? That some limp promise about his bratty daughter “complying” would erase the way she’d humiliated him?No one disrespected Patrik Tilman. Not in private. Not in public. Not ever.He ripped his jacket off, tossing it onto the chair, and grabbed the whiskey on the counter. The glass clinked hard against the table as he poured a double shot and downed it in one go. The fire in his throat matched the fire boiling in his chest.And then the phone buzzed again.Patrik froze. The vibration crawled across the mattress like a snake. He didn’t need to look to know who it was.Mr. Ar

CHAPTER 30– SLIPPING THROUGH HIS FINGERSPatrik had just stepped out of the bathroom, steam curling off his shoulders, when the knock came fast. Too fast. Three sharp raps against the suite door that didn’t sound like respect—they sounded like panic.He froze, towel hanging low on his hips, droplets sliding down his chest. This was why he hated motels. The walls were too thin, the locks too cheap, and the air too heavy with other people’s bad decisions. But what could he do? When you’re on the hunt for a ghost—the heir of all heirs—you can’t exactly check into the Ritz.Patrik’s jaw flexed. He snatched a T-shirt off the chair and dragged it over his head, every movement sharp. He went straight to the nightstand where he grabbed a bottle of whiskey and turned it into a glass. “If that’s room service, tell them to fuck off,” he muttered, swirling the whiskey until the amber liquid kissed the rim.The knock came again, harder this time. Patrik’s jaw ticked. He slammed the glass down, go