Elira didn’t sleep that night.
She stood at the edge of the balcony, the wind pulling at her robe, her mind spinning between betrayal and vengeance.
Her mother had lied.
Celine had stolen.
Soren had hidden the truth.
But now there was something worse—something she couldn’t even let herself say out loud.
What if the boy she had just fought to save wasn’t even hers?
The thought burrowed under her ribs, poisoning every breath.
Inside, her sons were sleeping.
Or one was.
And the other… maybe wasn’t her blood at all.
Soren came to her at dawn.
“I’ve arranged for a private DNA test,” he said. “No press. No records. No interference.”
Elira turned slowly, eyes sharp as razors. “Do you already know the result?”
“No.”
“Don’t lie to me.”
“I’m not,” he said tightly. “But I need you to
