NOAH

Emma was dead.

Those three words felt like they blew a hole straight through my chest-leaving behind an icy emptiness.

I went back to the Atherton house for dinner. It wasn't part of the plan. I should have returned to my penthouse in Menlo Park-the place I used as a fortress to shut out the world, where not even my personal assistant was allowed inside.

But tonight, I needed someone nearby. Even if we sat under the same roof in silence. Because I couldn't bear another night alone, staring at white walls, thinking I should've told her sooner that I had feelings for her.

I fucking should have told her.

But I didn't.

I was terrified back then-terrified that the moment I admitted it, I'd lose control. And control was the only thing I was ever good at in this world.

The news about Emma hollowed me out completely. What I couldn't accept even more was that night-at the reunion, at the hospital-every time she walked in and out with that child in her arms, she-no, Ms. Evans-kept denying she was Emma. She looked at me with something close to disgust, as if I'd done something unforgivable to her.

Maybe I had.

I didn't know why she reacted so strongly. But I could feel it-I had become her trigger. Whether in the hospital hallway or that night she called a "company celebration," the way she looked at me was the way you look at an asshole.

I was not that kind of person. At least, I hoped I was not.

So I didn't go back to the penthouse. That place was too empty-just like my heart right now.

I went back to the Atherton house-my parents' place. I rarely returned there, for various reasons. We had money, yes, but our family was still broken.

Morgan Holdings was a leading force in U.S. real estate and construction and was expanding into Europe. As the only legitimate son in the family, many assumed I would become CEO. But because I chose a different career path, Lucas became CEO, and Madison took the role of COO.

Lucas Morgan was my parents' adopted son. He was the child of my mother's best friend, who died tragically in a plane crash. At the time, my parents were unable to conceive, so they adopted Lucas. His original name was Lucas Rockefeller.

When my mother was thirty-three, she finally became pregnant and gave birth to my sister, Madison. She was already close to menopause when she had me and my twin brother, Elijah.

Yes-I had a twin brother.

Twenty years ago, Elijah and I were kidnapped. It was one of the worst moments of my life. I survived.

My brother didn't.

I saw my mother's eyes turn red. That was one of the reasons I preferred staying in my penthouse. I knew that every time she looked at me, she couldn't help but think of Elijah.

When I caught her wiping away tears, I knew I'd been right.

My mother was usually cheerful-except when it came to pressuring me into the blind dates she arranged. That was when she turned ruthless.

"Noah, why didn't you go meet Isabel last Wednesday?" she asked.

"Mm..." I muttered, not bothering to respond properly.

"What does that 'mm' mean?" she snapped, rubbing her temples.

"I already told you-Isabel is a beautiful woman. She used to come over when you were a child. Her grandfather and your grandfather were best friends. Even if you don't like her, for your grandfather's sake you should meet her! And Noah-you're almost thirty! It's time to settle down!"

She went on and on.

I sighed and nodded. "Fine. I'll see her."

"Really? You're not lying to me?" she asked.

"Yes, Mom. I promise. Okay? Can I go upstairs now?" I said, hoping to end the interrogation.

She smiled brightly. "Of course, son. Go on."

I smiled back and headed for the study.

I was looking for a few books to take back to my penthouse when the hospital called with an emergency. I grabbed the books and my car keys and rushed out.

As I went downstairs, I overheard my family still talking about me.

"He's just like you," my mother whispered to my father. "Almost thirty and still single. He barely comes home-he spends all his time at the hospital."

"People his age are either engaged, married, or already have kids!" she added, clearly frustrated.

"Our son is just doing his duty as a doctor," my father said in my defense. "I don't see anything wrong with that."

I was surprised to hear him defend me. I knew how furious he'd been when I told him I wanted to be a doctor instead of taking over the family business.

I knew my mother meant well. But I couldn't start dating anyone right now-especially with the rumors about Emma. I still refused to believe she was gone.

"Mom, remember-I got called in. I really have to go," I said.

She widened her eyes in disbelief. "See? Your son cares about nothing but the hospital. He's been home less than an hour, and he's already rushing out again like that's the only thing that matters to him."

I scratched my head. "It's an emergency. I'll make it up to you, okay?"

She rolled her eyes.

"Just let him be himself," my father said again. "He's saving lives."

"Oh really? Then don't come to our bedroom tonight," my mother snapped and stormed off.

My siblings chuckled softly. My father scratched his head.

By the time I finally reached my penthouse, it was already 11:30 p.m. The emergency surgery had drained me completely-but it was worth it. We'd saved a life.

I sat down on the couch when a long-haired, snow-white golden retriever walked over and rubbed his face against mine. I reached out and stroked Milo.

He was a stray dog I used to see all the time in college-always with Emma. She'd wanted to adopt him, but dorm rules wouldn't allow it. I could tell how much Milo meant to her, so I adopted him myself.

"Emma, if you were here, Milo would be so happy to see you," I murmured.

I stood up slowly, a heavy pressure weighing on my chest, and carried the books into the study.

For days now, I'd been poring over medical literature, trying to find some explanation for the mysterious condition Emma supposedly had. There were countless possible causes for severe abdominal swelling-each more confusing and unsettling than the last.

My head started to ache. I was probably exhausted from surgery. I took off my glasses and leaned back in my chair for a moment.

I glanced at my phone and saw a message from William.

"I asked Emma's high school best friend, Grace, if they were still in touch," he wrote. "She said she hasn't been able to reach Emma either."

I sighed and rubbed my temples.

Even her best friend couldn't reach her? Was that true? Was she really gone?

I opened WhatsApp and scrolled through every conversation we'd had before she blocked me. I'd planned to delete the chat once I realized I'd been blocked-but I never could. Thank God I didn't.

After surgery, Martin and I realized we'd missed lunch. He'd assisted me during the procedure. He was a close friend from my time in the UK, and we'd both received offers from Palo Alto Medical Center. We worked together often-sometimes I assisted him.

We decided to eat in the staff lounge, reheating the meals we'd ordered earlier.

I glanced at my phone again, rereading my chats with Emma, debating whether I should add her using a new WhatsApp account. I couldn't believe she was gone. A sliver of hope still clung to my heart-that she was alive.

"Noah, you've been staring at your phone all day," Martin teased. "Waiting for a girlfriend's text?"

I looked up. Other doctors and nurses were watching, waiting for my response-most of them women.

It was no secret that I'd received countless confessions at the hospital. Even the director's daughter had confessed to me. I'd rejected them all.

I just shook my head. Martin chuckled.

Later that night, back at the penthouse, I opened my phone again and finally decided to register a new account. I even bought a new number for it.

At first, I considered using my real name-but then I thought better of it. Emma had blocked me once. If she knew it was me, she might block me again.

I bit my lip and typed in the name Benjamin Thomas.

I almost laughed at myself.

Benjamin Thomas was Emma's high school crush.

Yes-I wasn't her first love.

I'd seen it with my own eyes-Emma and her best friend Grace slipping a love letter into Benjamin's locker, giggling with flushed cheeks.

I'd never forget how red they were, how hard they tried not to laugh.

"Tch... it's just a letter. What are you even laughing about?" I muttered bitterly at the memory.

"This is insane," I thought.

But if this was the only way to find out whether Emma was still alive, I'd do it. Ever since I returned to the U.S., she'd been haunting my dreams.

I couldn't figure out why Emma had blocked me. We were happy that night. It had been her first time-I'd made sure to be gentle. I wanted her to cherish it the way I did.

We'd talked and held each other afterward, sharing so much. She wouldn't have blocked me just because I was going for my doctorate-she'd always supported my dreams. She'd even said she couldn't wait to see me in a white coat, being called Dr. Morgan.

Was it because I gave her a fifty-thousand-dollar gift card?

Did that make her angry?

I remembered that moment clearly.

"What does this card mean?" she'd asked, half-joking. "Are you treating me like a prostitute?"

"Of course not!" I said quickly. "I just wanted you to come to my birthday party. You could use the money to buy a dress. I don't like it when people humiliate you just because they can afford expensive clothes."

She laughed softly. "They don't humiliate me because of what I wear. They do it because I'm ugly and fat."

I turned to her, serious. "You're not ugly. You're beautiful, Emma." I kissed her gently.

She smiled.

It wasn't about the money.

She never used it. She sent it back.

When I went home on holiday, my sister told me there was a package waiting-sent six months earlier. It was from Emma. Inside were everything I'd ever given her, from high school onward. Even the stuffed animal I'd won for her at the arcade-the one she'd worked so hard to get herself.

She returned everything.

Including the food I'd bought her.

Including the fifty thousand dollars.

It was as if she were telling me she wanted me erased from her life completely.

I still didn't know what happened.

Damn it.

Noah

I lifted my foot and accidentally stepped on a pink plush rabbit-round and chubby, pale pink, with long floppy ears. I picked it up and put it back where it had been on the table.

I'd bought that toy for Emma back in college.

That day, I'd been wandering through the mall when I saw her growing visibly frustrated at a claw machine. I stopped and watched her for a while, saw how hard she was trying. She came so close so many times, but the toy always slipped and fell.

A faint smirk tugged at my mouth as I walked over to the token machine.

"Need some help?" I asked.

She turned around, eyes widening when she saw me.

"No," she said. "I'm just killing time."

I raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "All right. Mind if I give it a try?" I said casually.

She nodded. "Sure." Then she stepped aside to let me play.

I dropped in a token and won the plush toy she'd been chasing-with a single try.

"Wow!" she exclaimed.

I bent down, picked up the toy, and handed it to her. "It's ugly. I don't like it. You can have it," I said indifferently.

"It's not ugly at all. It's really cute," she said, stroking the toy. "Are you sure you don't want it?"

"Yeah. It doesn't suit me," I replied, trying to convince her.

She smiled. "Then I'll keep it. Thank you."

My interactions with Emma had always been like that-few and far between. She refused everything I tried to give her, but I always found excuses that left her no choice but to accept.

I knew how much she liked that toy, which was why I was genuinely shocked when she returned it to me.

When my sister handed me the package Emma had mailed back, something twisted painfully in my chest. The timing couldn't have been worse. My father and I had been in the middle of a heated argument. I'd come home on holiday, and he insisted I give up my studies in the UK and take over as CEO of the family business.

That only strengthened my resolve to become a doctor.

Especially after my brother Lucas started working at the company and openly stated that he wanted the CEO position. I didn't want to compete with him. We had a good relationship, and I didn't want business rivalry to destroy it.

While driving to the hospital one day, a little girl suddenly ran out in front of my car. I slammed on the brakes.

I jumped out immediately and rushed over to her. She looked up at me in terror, clutching a small puppy in her arms.

I knelt down and asked gently, "Are you hurt?"

I carefully lifted her up to check her for injuries. She seemed fine-just a few scrapes and bruises on her palms from breaking her fall.

Shaking her head, she continued holding the puppy tightly. "I'm fine, Dr. Morgan. But could you please check if the puppy is hurt?" she asked, looking at me pleadingly.

I frowned.

She looked familiar.

"Hannah," I murmured to myself.

I remembered her. She'd come to me for consultations before, though our schedules rarely aligned-I often saw her and her mother seeing other doctors instead.

"You're only worried about the dog?" I couldn't help scolding her. "Do you realize how dangerous that was? If I hadn't braked in time, you could've been hit by my car."

I looked around, wondering who she was with and why her guardian would allow her to dash out like that.

Hannah bit her lip, about to speak, when a woman shouted her name.

"Hannah!"

I turned and saw a woman running toward her. She wrapped Hannah tightly in her arms, clearly relieved once she realized her daughter was unharmed.

"Mom, I'm fine-and the puppy is fine too," Hannah said, showing her the dog.

Her mother noticed the bruises on Hannah's palms. As she hugged her again, a tear slid down her cheek.

She looked up at me, her face pale, still visibly shaken. I understood her reaction-any parent would be terrified to learn their child had nearly been hit by a car.

She seemed to want to say something, but hesitated. Maybe she was afraid I'd scold her too.

I spoke immediately, softening my tone. "Ms. Evans, there's no need to be nervous. I don't mean any harm. If I really did something wrong, I hope you'll tell me directly."

She bit her lip but didn't respond.

I stepped a little closer, lowering my voice. "Ms. Evans... have we really never met before?"

She shook her head at once. "We've only met at the hospital-and at Battery Park."

I studied her for a few seconds. When I saw no hesitation in her expression, I nodded and opened my car door.

"Get in. Let's go. I'll take you and your daughter to the hospital for a checkup."

"No... that's not necessary. I don't want to trouble you. I can take her myself," she refused firmly.

I frowned. There was something odd about her reaction. Normally, parents in situations like this would insist on going to the hospital-and hold the driver responsible.

"I'm a doctor," I said firmly. "A lot of accident victims look fine on the surface, but have dangerous internal injuries. If anything happens, I'll take responsibility."

"Hannah is my patient," I added.

Still hesitant, she had no real choice. She got into the car with Hannah and the puppy, sitting in the back seat.

I glanced at Hannah's mother. She looked much younger than her actual age-certainly not like the mother of a six-year-old. Her skin was very fair, even more so in the blue dress she was wearing. There was something inexplicably familiar about her, especially when I looked into her light brown eyes.

After we arrived at the hospital, I asked a nurse to assist Hannah with a series of tests.

She needed chest and abdominal CT scans. Since she was under my care, I accompanied her into the CT room.

"Dr. Morgan, your daughter looks exactly like you," one doctor joked.

"What?!" I exclaimed in shock. "She's not my daughter."

"Sorry, but you two really do look like father and daughter," the doctor said, puzzled.

Ms. Evans spoke up immediately. "You're mistaken. Hannah's father passed away a long time ago."

Passed away?

I looked at Ms. Evans, a deep sense of loss flashing through me. Just moments ago, a part of me had hoped Hannah might be my daughter. But Emma was gone-no one could be carrying my child.

Because after her, I hadn't slept with any woman.

I turned back to Ms. Evans. She looked tense.

"There's radiation in here," I said gently. "You can wait outside. I'll stay with her. Don't worry."

She nodded and stepped out.

As Hannah underwent the scans, whispers drifted around us.

"Who's the little girl with Dr. Morgan?"

"Is she his girlfriend's child?"

"Is that Dr. Morgan's type?"

"I don't think so. Didn't he say when he rejected Ava that he liked women with big breasts, fair skin, and long legs?"

"Really? I didn't know Dr. Morgan had such crude tastes."

"Most men do. Remember how much Ava did just to work in the same department as him-and how she completely lost it when he rejected her?"

"We should stop speculating. She's probably just a relative. The girl looks about five or six, and Dr. Morgan is nearly thirty. It's unlikely she's his child."

Hearing them whisper while Hannah was being examined, I could only shake my head. There was no point explaining anything.

The tests took several hours. Fortunately, everything came back normal-only bruises on her palms and knees bore witness to the accident. Knowing my young patient was truly fine, I finally felt relieved.

"Thank you for your help, Dr. Morgan," Ms. Evans said.

I handed her a business card. "This is my card. If Hannah needs anything, contact me anytime."

She looked conflicted, so I added, "Hannah's condition means emergencies can happen at any time."

"Thank you, Dr. Morgan," she said at last, taking the card.

I watched her walk away. For a moment, her silhouette overlapped with Emma's in my mind.

Was she really not Emma?

I had to find out.

I immediately asked William to help me hire a private investigator.

OLIVIA

"Mom, we forgot to get Coco."

I furrowed my brow. "Who's Coco?" I asked, a bit confused.

"It's the puppy I saved earlier. I named her Coco," Hannah explained.

We weren't too far from the hospital, and I could have asked the Uber driver to go back, but I didn't. I had been so anxious the whole time we were with Noah, especially in the hospital when almost all the medical staff kept commenting on how much my daughter resembled him.

"Hannah, don't ever do that again, do you understand? It's too dangerous," I scolded her, remembering the stunt she pulled to save the puppy.

I knew how kind and caring my daughter was, but I didn't want her to risk her life. I couldn't imagine what I would do if something happened to her.

"I know, Mom. I'm sorry. But the car wasn't going fast. It didn't hit me. I was just startled, that's why I fell and got these bruises," she reasoned.

"I don't care. It's still dangerous. Don't ever do that again, promise me," I said, my voice serious.

Hannah bit her lip and nodded. "Promise, Mommy."

"But... Mom, what about Coco? We left her in Doctor Morgan's car," she asked again, her concern for the puppy still evident.

Even though Noah gave me his number, I had no plans of contacting him again. Besides, Margareth would definitely not agree to keep a dog in the house-dogs can be noisy and might disturb her and the neighbors.

"Hannah, we can't keep Coco. Margareth might not like having a dog in her house," I explained.

Hannah lowered her head, looking disappointed. I knew how much she wanted a dog; she loved playing with them whenever we saw one on our walks in the park.

"After your surgery, I'll work hard to buy a house for us. Then, I'll get you a dog," I promised, hoping to comfort her.

"But that's not Coco," she muttered sadly.

When we got home, the disappointment was still visible on her face. I decided to distract her by playing with her so she could forget about the dog.

"Mom, did you hear the doctors and nurses saying I look like Doctor Morgan? It makes sense since he looks like Dad too," Hannah suddenly brought up.

I froze in my seat. "Hannah, listen to me, sweetie... Don't let anyone know that Doctor Morgan looks like your dad, especially not the people at the hospital," I told her firmly.

She looked at me with innocent eyes. "But why, Mommy?"

I sighed. "Because people might misunderstand, and it could affect Doctor Morgan's reputation. He's unmarried, and we can't put him in that kind of situation."

Hannah nodded and returned to her drawing. I glanced at it-she'd drawn a dog, one that looked strikingly similar to the puppy she had saved earlier. It wasn't perfect, but I could tell what she was trying to depict.

I couldn't bear to see the sadness on my daughter's face as she finished her drawing. So, I made a bold decision. I was going to call Noah.

I grabbed my phone, excused myself from Hannah, and went to the balcony to make the call about the dog.

"Hello, who's this?" a woman's voice answered.

I froze for a moment. It was a woman. My mind went blank, and I couldn't find my voice.

She said "Hello" a few more times before I regained my composure.

"Sorry, wrong number," I muttered quickly.

I was about to hang up when she spoke again. "No, you're not. You're calling Noah, right? He's in the shower. I'll tell him to call you back later."

"Okay, thank you," I replied quickly, then ended the call.

I sat in the chair on the balcony, trying to clear my thoughts. It was getting late, and Noah was still with her. She was probably Noah's girlfriend.

The woman's voice was warm and calm, which made it clear that Noah had a good relationship with her. She didn't even question why I was calling him so late.

It was no surprise that Noah had a girlfriend. Besides being good-looking and having a successful career, he also came from a great family.

I took a deep breath, inhaling the fresh air. I raised my head, letting my gaze drift toward the sky.

I knew I shouldn't let it bother me. Noah and I were a thing of the past. We were never actually in a relationship. If I hadn't blackmailed him, he never would have agreed to sleep with me.

I was pretty sure Noah had long forgotten that night-that one time in his life when he'd slept with a fat, ugly girl like me. I was nothing but a stain on his reputation.

As I stood up, a wave of dizziness hit me. My blood sugar was probably low, a result of the hypoglycemia I developed after giving birth. It flared up whenever I was overly tired, anxious, or stressed.

I almost dropped my phone when it suddenly rang, and I saw the caller ID. It was Noah.

I took a deep breath before answering.

"Hello, may I know who's calling and why did you call?" Noah's voice came through the line.

Before I could speak, I heard a woman's voice in the background.

"Be gentle, Noah. You're being too harsh."

I gripped the phone tighter, clenching my jaw. An image of Noah and the woman in his bed flashed in my mind.

I couldn't believe Noah was calling me while she was right there, probably flirting with his girlfriend.

"Hello?" Noah asked again, his voice more insistent.

"It's me, Dr. Morgan," I finally managed to say. "I just wanted to ask about the dog my daughter saved earlier."

There was a brief silence before Noah answered.

"I took the dog to my place," he replied flatly.

"Are you free tomorrow? Can I pick up the dog? My daughter really likes the dog..." I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

"I won't be available tomorrow," he said. "I have a business trip. I'll contact you next week."

"Okay," I muttered, pursing my lips. "Sorry to bother you."

Just as I was about to end the call, Noah's deep voice came through the receiver again. "May I know your name, so I can save your number?"

"Olivia," I replied, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Olivia... Hmm, okay."

After the call, I went back to the living room where my daughter was. She looked so sleepy, her eyes barely open. I picked her up and carried her to her room, gently patting her to sleep. I placed her favorite pink rabbit doll in her arms, tucking her in.

As I was tidying up her things, I noticed her finished drawing. I sighed.

I couldn't wait for next week. But for now, I would just buy my daughter a new dog tomorrow.