Eason froze. He stared at the tiny bundle in Katrina’s arms, a sleeping baby girl. ‘My kid?’ The thought echoed inside his skull.

“I found out I was pregnant after we split,” Katrina said, her voice trembling. “Turns out I’m one of those ‘hard to conceive’ cases. If I’d terminated, I might never get another shot at being a mom.”

Katrina swallowed, eyes glassy. “I’m sorry, I know you’ll think I made this choice for both of us, but the baby’s innocent, right?”

Eason let the silence stretch until it felt like the room itself was holding its breath. Finally, he said, “I still carry a torch for my childhood sweetheart; I’m not over her yet.”

That was why he’d called it quits with Katrina–he hadn’t wanted to lie to her or string her along. Life, apparently, had other punch lines. If it weren’t for this kid, he figured, he and Katrina would have nothing left to say.

Katrina nodded through fresh tears. “I know you can’t love me right now, and I know Evelyn’s still living in your head.”

Katrina continued, “I just don’t want our daughter growing up without a dad. The rest… I can shelf it for now. Time heals, right?”

“You idiot,” Eason muttered. He stepped forward and pulled her into his arms.

That was the moment everything shifted. From that day on, he promised himself–Katrina and the baby came first, last, and always.

They filed for a marriage license at City Hall and became a team in every sense. Together, they watched Yalena grow up. As for Evelyn, after that night, Eason never saw her again. Never asked around.

So today, when he saw her again, it felt like a ghost had walked through the wall. He transferred the money to her without a single extra word.

Teresa hadn’t left the house much all week. Jonathan had practically wrapped her in bubble wrap.

“Just until the baby’s safely here,” he’d insisted, hovering in the doorway with that new, tight smile. “If you really need to go out, text me first, okay?”

He’d been so careful that it felt off.

That afternoon, she was scrolling Instagram when a local news push alert lit the screen. There had been a fire on the street where Evelyn’s store was located.

The last fire–her grandparents‘ house–still showed up in her nightmares. She was terrified and worried sick about Evelyn. Her thumb shook as she tapped Evelyn’s number.

Evelyn answered on the second ring. “I’m okay. The store’s breezy. So don’t worry, okay?”

Teresa frowned. “Which friend?”

“…gone, but I’m fine. A friend floated me a hundred and fifty grand to rebuild,” Evelyn said, too

“Melanie,” Evelyn replied, her tone dismissive. “Chill, Mom’s got this.” She quickly changed the subject and then hung up before Teresa could say anything more.

The line went dead. Teresa stared at the blank screen, unease pooling in her chest. She mused, ‘First, Jonathan’s acting like some secret-service agent, now Evelyn’s dodging questions? Everyone’s acting weird, like they’re all in on something I’m not.’

At Kelly Group, Yalena had sworn up and down she’d locked down the deal her father, Eason, had handed her.

She never saw the curveball coming: Dharma’s headquarters had already cut a quiet side deal with Horizonlead Group, and the whole play had been engineered for Jonathan.

She hadn’t been looped in, so she’d flown all the way to Elarioa–only to learn later that the Horizonlead team had slipped into Hailigh days ahead and shaken hands with Jonathan.

By the time she landed back home, the ink was dry and she was out of moves.

Eason stormed into her office, a stack of contracts clenched in his fist. “Look at the mess you made!” he barked, flinging the papers so they slapped across her cheek and fluttered to the carpet like dying birds.

He jabbed a finger at her, voice climbing. “I told you–no concessions, whatever it takes. Instead, you hop a plane, waltz into Dharma’s lobby, and volunteer an eight-percent haircut!”

His pacing turned sharp, each step stabbing the floor. “Did you even bother to find out Horizonlead offered a five percent discount? You carried Dharma’s reputation on your back–my reputation–and now the whole industry’s laughing.”

“Every future partner’s going to demand the same giveaway. You’ve embarrassed me and cost us seven figures in one afternoon!” Eason’s arm shot out again, finger leveled at her face. “What the hell have you been doing?”

Yalena dropped to her knees, clutching the leg of his suit pants like a lifeline. “Dad, I swear I didn’t know Jonathan set me up. Please–just one more chance!”

Eason stared down, stunned. ‘This is the kid who used to insist on carrying her own backpack at six years old.’ Now she groveled, shifting blame like it was someone else’s luggage. The voice, the expression–nothing matched the daughter he thought he knew.

“Get up!” he snarled, the words ripping out of him. “Look at yourself! You’re a stranger wearing my daughter’s face.”

Yalena tilted her chin, forcing a sugary lilt. “Daddy,” she cooed, “give me the company. I won’t let you down.”

“How many second chances does one person get?” Eason snapped. His chest heaved. “You want to kill me from frustration? Fine.”

He pivoted on his heel, already scanning his mental Rolodex for potential heirs who didn’t come packaged with this much chaos.

“Dad, just let me-” Eason strode past her before the plea finished forming. The office door slammed, the sound ricocheting off glass walls.

Yalena bit down on her lip until she tasted copper. 'Jonathan. This is all Jonathan’s payback,’ she seethed, nails digging crescents into her palms.

She marched straight to Horizonlead Group. At the reception desk, she flashed a polite smile. “Irene asked me to drop something off for Jonathan.”

The receptionist’s eyes widened–everyone in the building knew Irene was Jonathan’s mother. No one dared say no. The woman waved her through.

Yalena rode the elevator to the executive floor. The corridor stretched ahead, dim and hushed. At the far end, a tall, lean man in a black suit stood with his back to her.

She rushed forward, arms flung wide, and pressed herself against him. “Mr. Lynn, you’re so mean,” she cooed, voice syrupy. “Why would you make life hard for a delicate woman? Where’s your chivalry?”

When Jonathan didn’t answer–or shove her away–her courage swelled. Her palms slid up the hard planes of his chest, tracing each contour.

“Mr. Lynn, your chest feels so broad, so solid,” she whispered, leaning in. “You know, I fell for you the first moment I saw you…”

“Oh? Really.” The voice that rumbled back was low, almost amused.

“It’s true,” Yalena said quickly. “I’m not like other women–I’m not after your money. Marry me, and I’ll give you children…”

The man finally caught her wrists and peeled her hands off him with cool disdain. A soft snort. “Sorry, sweetheart, I’m not in the market for kids.”

Something in the timbre of that voice felt… off. The man turned around. Yalena’s eyes flew wide. She stumbled backward a step. “Who are you? You’re not Jonathan.”

Chapter 881