But because of the look in her eyes.

Not fear.

Not anymore.

Something else.

Something sharper.

“His name,” Logan said, his voice rough, “what’s his name?”

Sienna’s arms tightened around the child.

A long pause.

“Eli.”

The name hit him like a pulse.

“Eli Everett?” he asked.

Sienna’s lips curved—not into a smile, but something far more cutting.

“No.”

Logan’s chest tightened.

She shook her head slowly.

“Eli Blake.”

The words didn’t make sense.

“They’re my eyes,” Logan said, stepping forward despite himself. “My son.”

Sienna let out a quiet, almost tired breath.

Then she looked up at him.

And what she said next

shattered everything.

“No, Logan,” she said softly.

“He’s not your son.”

The world stopped.

Sienna’s gaze didn’t waver.

“That night,” she continued, her voice steady now, “you weren’t the only one who was drugged.”

Logan felt the ground shift beneath him.

“I didn’t go looking for you,” she said. “I woke up in that room just like you did. With no memory. No answers.”

His heart pounded.

“Then the baby—”

“Is mine,” she said firmly.

“And his father?”

A pause.

A breath.

“I don’t know.”

Silence fell like a blade.

Logan stared at her.

At the child.

At the reflection he had been so certain of.

And for the first time

Doubt crept in.

“But—” he started.

Sienna stepped closer.

Just enough.

“Look again,” she said quietly.

Logan did.

Really looked.

At the shape of the eyes.

The slight tilt.

The subtle differences he had ignored because he wanted to believe

Because it made sense.

Because it gave meaning to something broken.

Sienna’s voice softened, just slightly.

“You weren’t the only powerful man at that gala, Logan.”

The implication hit like a freight train.

“There were others,” she said. “Men who would have benefited from you losing control. From your reputation taking a hit. From your life… unraveling.”

Logan’s blood ran cold.

“You think this was planned.”

“I know it was,” she said.

A beat.

Then the final twist of the knife:

“And I think… you were the target.”

The world tilted.

Everything he thought he knew

His past.

That night.

The child.

All of it—was wrong.

And somewhere out there

Was the man who had stolen a night, destroyed two lives

And left behind a child with a face that could ruin everything.

Logan exhaled slowly.

Then met her eyes.

“Then we find him,” he said.

Sienna held his gaze.

A long, dangerous silence.

Then she nodded.

Because whatever this was

It wasn’t over.

It had only just begun.

He Planned a Romantic Escape to Break His Wife—But She Rewrote the Ending Before He Even Landed.

“Girl, I was about to put your face on a missing poster. Where have you been?”

I gripped the steering wheel tighter, staring out at the endless rows of parked cars shimmering under the late morning heat. For a second, my voice wouldn’t come out.

Then it did.

And once it started, it didn’t stop.

I told her everything.

Not just the Bali trip. Not just Vanessa.

Everything.

The messages. The insults. The way Trevor had turned our marriage into a performance—one where I was the joke and he was waiting for applause.

Relle didn’t interrupt. Not once.

When I finished, there was a long silence on the line.

Then she said, very quietly, “You ready to burn his world down?”

I closed my eyes.

“No,” I said. “I’m ready to walk out of it.”

Then, softer this time, “Okay. Then we do it clean. Smart. No drama. No warning.”

No warning.

The words settled into my bones like something solid.

“First,” Relle said, shifting into that sharp, strategic tone I hadn’t heard in years, “you need proof. Screenshot everything. Back it up somewhere he can’t touch.”

“Already started.”

“Good. Second, you need a lawyer who doesn’t play nice.”

“I was thinking the same thing.”