What terrified Allison most was the thought that, after a few brief days of crying, she would simply fade from Lucas's memory as if she had never existed.

Steadying herself with a deep breath, she brushed her hair behind her ear and finally eased into the armchair across from the man. Her eyes sharpened, the same way they did during her toughest negotiations. "I'll think about what you've said, but I won't do anything else until I see Luc."

Despite her initial decision to return Lucas to his family, she felt a persistent concern for him now. After all, they had never been apart.

"He cried himself to sleep a little while ago. Get some rest yourself. We'll talk again once you've had time to recover."

"Aren't you going to explain your family's situation to me?" Despite her disheveled appearance, Allison didn't want the man to control everything.

He didn't hesitate. "I'm Derek Lawson. Lucian's mother died in childbirth. The nanny I entrusted him to, angered by my reprimand, spirited him away. It was never about keeping him—only about causing me pain. I finally located her two days ago."

Learning the truth hit hard. Lucas's mother was gone before he took his first breath. He'd come into this world alone, and Allison—she was never meant to have a child of her own.

A housekeeper soon prepared a guest room for Allison, and this time, she didn't object. The hot shower washed away some of the exhaustion, and sleep claimed her as soon as her head touched the pillow.

Every nerve had been strung tight since Derek's arrival, and the long drive afterward left her barely able to keep her eyes open. Rest was a luxury she couldn't refuse; she needed her strength for whatever was next.

Time slipped by until a sharp rapping at the door jolted her awake.

"Ms. Wade, Luc's crying. Would you come out and see him?" called a worried staff member from the hall.

Soundproof walls had muffled everything, so Allison hadn't realized Lucas was crying.

"Mom… I want you, Mom!" Lucas's cries seeped in through the gap.

Without a second thought, Allison hurried past the staff member and rushed for the stairs. "I'm here, Luc. I'm right here!"

Tears stained Lucas's cheeks. The moment he caught sight of her, he broke away from the staff member and barreled into Allison's arms. "Where did you go, Mom?"

Allison scooped him up, wiping his tears. "I'm right here. I just needed a little rest. Don't cry now, okay? I'm here."

Since turning three, Lucas had rarely acted out like this. He kept insisting that he was a big boy now, and that big boys didn't cry.

"Mom, do you not want me anymore? I promise I'll behave. I won't pick on anybody again. Just don't give me away..."

His thoughts raced back to the moment that man showed up and took him. His mother hadn't fought to keep him. He figured maybe he'd done something unforgivable and she didn't want him anymore.

Allison's heart twisted. Lucas could sob his fears out, but there was nowhere for her pain to go.

"I'm not going anywhere, sweetie. Try to be brave now, or those other kids might tease you."

"Okay, Mom. Please stay with me. I won't cry again," Lucas said, blinking away his tears and trying to steady his breathing, afraid that more crying would push her away.

Holding her son close, Allison glanced up and caught Derek watching from the doorway, arms folded, eyes unreadable.

Neither of them could stand the sight of Lucas's tears; the very sound of it broke their hearts.

Suddenly, Allison's hand landed on Lucas's forehead, then on her own. Alarm flashed through her. "Why is he burning up?"

At first, she thought his red cheeks came from crying, but heat radiated from his skin. He had a fever.

Derek stepped in when he heard the worry in her voice. "Rita, get the thermometer."

Within moments, the housekeeper hurried over.

The numbers flashed—101 degrees.

Allison slipped her hand beneath Lucas's T-shirt and found his clothes soaked through.

"Why did nobody notice he was this sweaty? His tee's completely soaked—why didn't someone change him?" In her panic, Allison didn't even know who she was shouting at.

On the way to Streley, only men had cared for Lucas, doing their best to calm him in the car. When they'd finally arrived, he refused to let the house staff help, and his sweat-soaked T-shirt went unnoticed, leaving him shivering with a cold.

Derek wasted no time. "We're going to the hospital!" He looked at Rita Flynn, his housekeeper. "Get the car ready."

He moved forward, arms outstretched, but Allison turned away, keeping Lucas close. "Get him some dry clothes!" she shouted, unwilling to let Derek touch her son.

Though Derek bristled at her sharp tone, he nodded and sent someone to fetch fresh clothes.

Allison whisked Lucas into the bathroom, switched on the heater, and with shaky hands, dressed him in warm, dry pajamas.

Back when Lucas was just eighteen months old, one night took a terrifying turn. Fever had gripped him for who knew how long before Allison noticed. She scooped him up and raced down the stairs, his small frame surprisingly heavy in her arms. Minutes ticked by as she searched in vain for a taxi—finally, a passing car came into view. Without a second thought, she flagged it down, putting her fears aside, and insisted the driver help. Luck was with her that night; the driver was kindhearted and rushed them to the nearest emergency room.

A warning from the doctor had haunted her ever since: if his temperature didn't break, the fever might lead to meningitis.

That memory sent a chill through Allison even now.

Looking at Lucas today, she saw a pale, weary child. At first, she'd blamed his tears for the lethargy, but she soon realized the fever had been smoldering unseen.

"Mom, really, I'm fine. Some warm water and I'll feel better," Lucas murmured, trying to keep his eyelids open. He must've learned that line from her, using it now to try and soothe her nerves.

Allison pressed him against her chest and hurried out, murmuring between hurried breaths, "I'm sorry, baby. I'm so sorry..."

Hospitals were always overflowing with families, and today was no exception.

Planning ahead had paid off—her online appointment meant they could skip the crowded waiting area and go straight in.

Completely worn out, Lucas drifted off to sleep. Allison's worry was written all over her face, and Derek, noticing her distress, spoke with unexpected gentleness. "Let me carry him for a bit."

It was unusual for Derek to set aside his haughty demeanor, especially for something so ordinary.

Normally, he would have left this to the household staff, but his son had only just come home. He wanted to bridge the gap between them, even if it started with something as simple as carrying the boy.

Four years he had spent searching for Lucas, and now every minute mattered.

Allison's instinct was to refuse. She hesitated, then silently placed Lucas in Derek's arms. There was no point clinging any tighter, not when she'd have to say goodbye soon.

It was Derek's first time holding a child—a clumsy, uncertain embrace. He was startled by the boy's solid weight in his arms.

He glanced at Allison, watching her worry and fret over the hospital board. He couldn't comprehend how she managed to hold the boy for so long, never pausing, never complaining.

Allison finally let herself breathe once the IV drip started and Lucas's fever began to fall.

"Lucas hardly ever gets sick. After his second birthday, he barely needed a doctor. Usually, a simple cold is nothing, but you can't ignore a fever. One time it nearly turned into meningitis," Allison explained to Derek, standing by the bedside watching Lucas sleep.

"He isn't a fussy eater, but peanuts are off-limits. He's got a lot of energy, sweats like crazy when he's playing, so always check if his back is damp and change his tee if it is. He's obsessed with cars—he's always asking for one of those ride-on convertibles."

She figured a gift like that might just make it easier for Lucas to accept Derek as his father.

"There's a bit of astigmatism in his left eye, so keep an eye on how much time he spends with screens. He'll need another checkup in two months—don't forget."

While holding the hand that wasn't connected to the IV, Allison ran through her list of reminders for Derek.

She paused, lifting her gaze to meet his. "Can you promise to be the father he needs?"

Derek stared back, silent and unreadable.

Turning away from Derek, Allison brushed her fingers across Lucas's forehead. "He's always longed for a father. Please don't let him feel alone anymore."

For all his tough exterior, Lucas always wilted when someone brought up his missing father.

"When you were in Blirson, you didn't have a job. How did you get by all this time?" Derek asked, shifting the topic with a tone devoid of warmth, unclear whether from curiosity or another motive.

He'd never had the chance to dig deep into her background before.

Still, he knew raising a child couldn't have been cheap.

"My ex-husband's family paid out a settlement after the divorce, and I had some savings from my old job. But it's almost gone now."

Now that she'd landed back in Streley, separated from Lucas, it was time to pick herself up and return to work, to reclaim a life of her own.

With hospitals constantly stretched to their limits, even Derek hadn't managed to secure a private room. Their conversation was cut short when a doctor arrived, escorting another patient into the room.

Allison looked over, noticing a young boy—no more than four—being gently settled onto the neighboring bed by an adult.

The nurse double-checked the records. "Liam Clark, three years and seven months, right?" she said before prepping the IV.

The words caught Allison's attention. She turned her eyes to the man at the child's side.

"Yes, that's right, he's three years and seven months," the man said, his anxious voice striking a familiar chord for Allison.

Before Allison even registered the movement, she shot upright, her attention locked on Kyle as he crossed the room.

Confusion and disbelief overtook any remnants of surprise or longing inside her.

Watching Kyle lean over the little boy, his features softened by worry, she saw the same tenderness he once reserved for Lucas.

Nearly four years and a month had passed since their marriage ended. That child was just three years and seven months old—evidence that the other woman had been expecting before their split was official.

Gripping the hospital bed's metal rail, Allison squeezed until her knuckles drained of color. Her whole frame began to shake.

Betrayal stung like nothing else—a pain sharper than any wound—especially when it came from the man you once loved.

No matter how much time passed, the pain still bit just as hard.

All this time, she had blamed the divorce on Kyle's weakness, his inability to stand up to his mother. Never had it crossed her mind that the soft-spoken man she had trusted had betrayed her before their marriage was even over.

That day came rushing back—her memory sharp as ever—Kyle holding her in a tight embrace, his voice raw with guilt as he whispered his apology.

Only now did she finally see what that apology had been hiding.

Rage and humiliation crashed through her, draining the warmth from her body and leaving her feeling as though she might float away.

Derek caught sight of her unraveling the moment her posture faltered. She hadn't been herself since the new neighbors took over the next bed, her nerves stretched thin.

He wasn't one for interfering, so he kept his thoughts to himself.

Just a few minutes ago, Allison wanted nothing more than to tear into Kyle for cheating on her. Then another woman darted into the room, and for a split second, Allison felt the urge to lash out at them both.

A striking woman hurried over in heels that clicked across the floor, concern coloring her words as she called out, "Honey, is our son all right?"

Without meeting her eyes, Kyle fussed over the child's pillow, steady and attentive. "The doctor told me it's only mild pneumonia. They'll keep him here a little longer to be safe," he replied.

As Allison's eyes settled on the woman's face, her entire body went rigid. Recognition flashed instantly—she'd know Haylee Nash anywhere.

Memories crowded in. Years ago, Kyle used to dote on Haylee. Haylee had spent years working overseas, yet every homecoming meant a trip to see Kyle's mother, who cherished her as though she were family.

Allison's eyes burned red. She almost wished someone would hand her a knife right then.

Pride had carried her through so much. Now, all she could feel was humiliation—she'd been deceived by the person she trusted most.

After making sure the boy was settled, Kyle finally turned and met her stare. A flicker of surprise broke across his face when he realized who stood in front of him.

Fighting to hold herself together, Allison forced her features into a mask of serenity, even adding a small, polite smile. She refused to let anyone see her broken or defeated.

Kyle stood frozen, a jumble of guilt, panic, and disbelief warring across his features. His lips parted, but nothing came out.

Haylee's own glare was ready, clearly annoyed by Kyle's wandering attention, but the moment she saw Allison, that irritation vanished.

"Allie… is that you? When did you get back?" Kyle stammered.

No answer came from Allison. She understood him better than he realized—always weak, forever bending to his mother's wishes. Likely, the affair hadn't been his idea, but he'd never stopped it, either.

The more Allison kept her silence, the more anxious Kyle appeared.

Haylee's face turned red, and her words came out barely above a whisper. "A-Allie..."

Allison smiled faintly, still silent, giving the cheating pair plenty of time to squirm.

The realization finally hit Derek, watching it all unfold. Former lovers crossing paths—no wonder the mood had shifted so sharply.

Suddenly, Allison felt a hand come to rest on her back, brief but steady. The faint warmth seeped through her blouse, grounding her, helping her regain her composure.

It wasn't Derek's style to meddle, but she was responsible for his son now. He didn't want her shaken.

Besides, he had always carried that protective edge, believing anyone who looked after his child for so long somehow belonged under his shield.

He figured caring for her was no different than watching over a trusted employee or long-serving housekeeper.

Taking a quick breath to steady herself, Allison made her voice sound light. "Looks like your son's grown up a lot, Kyle."

For one reckless moment, she felt the urge to cross the room and slap him—maybe then he'd understand how deep the hurt ran.

But that fire wasn't for him anymore. He didn't deserve her anger or embarrassment.

This was a hospital, after all. Two children lay nearby, and a public outburst would only make her seem small.

Even more so in front of Derek—a man who, despite his involvement, remained an outsider.

Kyle's cheeks flushed crimson. His lips parted, searching for an explanation he couldn't find. "Allie..."

Right then, Lucas's eyes fluttered open. Spotting Allison close by, he squeezed her hand. "Mom, who is that man?"

The hardness in Allison's eyes vanished. She bent down, brushing his forehead, relieved to find it cooler. "It's alright, sweetheart. He's just an old friend of mine."

The answer made Kyle pause, realization flickering in his eyes. He knew she wasn't able to have children. His gaze moved from Lucas to Derek, who stood quietly near them.

Observing the boy's closeness to her, along with the quiet support of the other man, gave Kyle a sliver of relief. He told himself that as long as she looked content, maybe that was enough—even if it meant she was just the boy's stepmother.

Allison paid him no attention. Keeping herself calm was the only way forward, especially for Lucas's sake.

Good manners could keep her in check, but pretending nothing had happened would be asking too much.

Lucas's fever finally broke with the help of the IV, and as the hospital's crowding worsened, they were released by afternoon.

Upon returning to Derek's estate, Allison tucked Lucas into bed. She stepped outside, determined to pick up some necessities from her old apartment—she hadn't brought a thing with her to Streley, thanks to the unexpected trip.

Lucas's illness meant she couldn't stay away for long, so she intended to return right after gathering her essentials.

Declining Derek's suggestion to send a driver, she called a cab and rode alone to the apartment she'd abandoned four years back.

The keypad showed only the faintest traces of dust, nothing like what she expected from a place left untouched. A sliver of suspicion crept in, yet she punched in the code and stepped inside.

At the threshold, a pair of unfamiliar women's slippers greeted her. She stopped cold, scanning the room. The furniture arrangement had changed, and strange belongings littered the space. It was obvious someone had made themselves at home here.

Disbelief pressed down on her, turning her thoughts to static and squeezing her chest with a sick ache.

She raced to the bedroom. Resting on the nightstand sat a photo of Kyle, Haylee, and their child, all smiles in a neat frame. The truth landed with a sting.

Acting on pure instinct, she seized the picture and hurled it to the floor. Glass exploded across the wood, echoing the breaking inside her.

Her composure vanished. Only bitterness and heartbreak remained.

Suddenly, she felt just like every other woman who'd been betrayed. Why claim to love her while sharing a bed with another? Why fake grief at their divorce? How could he dare invite his mistress and their child into what had once been their home, even their bed? How could the man she'd loved with all her heart be such a scumbag? The deeper the love had been, the more pathetic it felt now.

She kept asking herself, how could someone sink so low?

Grief gave way to anger as she tore through the room, shattering whatever she could reach. Tears ran hot down her face. Only when she had reduced the space to ruins did her energy drain away, leaving her slumped and hollow.

Holding back in the hospital had been for Lucas's sake—she'd wanted to spare Kyle. After all, over the past two years, she had indeed moved on.

But the image of that happy trio beside her own bed stripped away any compassion. She had nothing left to give.

When the storm finally passed, she dried her tears, splashed water on her face, grabbed her phone, and dialed the police.

Kyle burst through the front door, having rushed back the moment he got a call. The sight that greeted him was nothing like he'd imagined: Allison reclined on the couch, sipping water, her posture almost regal. A crisp property deed lay on the table, while two uniformed police officers sat across from her, quietly watching the scene unfold.

He immediately understood what was happening.

With barely concealed frustration, he strode toward her. "Allie, can't we handle this like adults? Let's talk in private."

Without a hint of emotion, Allison set her glass aside and regarded him in silence.

One of the officers stood and spoke up, voice polite but firm. "Sir, could I see your identification, please? Ms. Wade has reported that you entered her home without permission. We need your cooperation."

Flustered, Kyle scrambled for his wallet and handed over his driver's license. "This is all a misunderstanding, officer. We know each other, I promise," he explained quickly.

Turning back to Allison, he tried to pull her aside, relying on old habits, but she raised a hand, stopping him cold. "If you've got something to say, you can say it right here, in front of the police."

Kyle's jaw clenched as he lowered his voice, leaning in. "Look, you moved out. The place was empty, and since it's closer to Haylee's work, we moved in for a bit. Now that you're back, we'll leave, no harm done. Was it really necessary to call the police? Besides, my mother paid for this apartment."

This was the home Allison and Kyle once shared after their wedding, but the property had been transferred into her name as part of the divorce agreement.

Never in her wildest dreams had she expected that Kyle and Haylee would waltz right in the second she was gone. His family owned more than enough homes in Streley. There was no reason for them to choose this one—unless they meant to get under her skin.

It was obvious to Allison: Kyle's mother was behind it, hoping to unsettle her, maybe even push her into giving up the apartment. Perhaps they still believed she held out hope for a reunion, or that they could strong-arm her into moving out.

Rage simmered in her chest. She refused to hide it. Her voice rang out, sharp and clear. "Kyle Clark, why don't you look at the deed sitting right in front of you? My name is the only one on it. Not yours, not your mother's, not Haylee's. None of you had the right to barge in here without asking. That's trespassing, plain and simple."

Kyle fumbled for an excuse. "I tried to tell you, but I couldn't reach you... Your phone was off..."

But Allison was done listening. If he had truly wanted to get in touch, he could have found a way.

Now, everything about him, every excuse, every word, made her stomach turn.

"You can explain everything to the police," Allison retorted, her patience worn thin. She wasn't about to argue with him for another second.

The officers exchanged a quick look. They'd seen plenty of messy disputes like this, and none ever ended cleanly. Usually, their job was just to keep the peace.

Kyle's mind raced, desperate to avoid a trip to the station and a permanent blot on his record. If he hadn't listened to his mother and picked a different place, none of this would be happening. The crushing weight of that regret settled over him now.

His last hope was to persuade Allison. He knew stubborn was her default setting—after all, she'd never backed down from a fight with his mother. Reluctantly, he forced himself to beg. "Allie, what do you want from me? Just name it, and I'll do whatever you say," he begged, voice strained.

Allison watched him with cold detachment, barely able to recall what she'd ever seen in him.

"I have nothing to say to you. Let's follow the law and let the officers sort it out," she replied, eager for the ordeal to be over.

The officers kept their distance, hoping the two would work it out without needing their help.

Kyle tried again, "After everything we've been through, can't you give me a chance to fix this? I'll agree to anything—just tell me what you want."

Her expression soured. To her, bringing up old memories now was almost laughable. "Isn't it a little late to play the nostalgia card?"

Defeated, Kyle hung his head, searching for any last thread of hope.

One officer stepped forward, breaking the silence. "Mr. Clark, you'll need to come with us for further questioning at the station."

Kyle was desperate to stall. "Can't we just resolve this here? She's my ex-wife; we can work it out if you give us a moment."

Allison rolled her eyes at his pathetic excuse.

Just then, her phone buzzed with an unfamiliar number.

She picked up, and Lucas's small voice rang through. "Mom, when are you coming back?"

Allison stepped out onto the balcony, her tone instantly softer. "I'm finishing up, sweetheart. I'll be back soon. Did you eat? Remember, you need a good meal to keep those muscles growing."

Ever since Derek had turned up, Lucas had been on edge, constantly checking the clock, worried that his mom might vanish without warning. Holding Derek's phone in both hands, he pleaded, "Mom, I finished my food just like you said... Where are you? I can come pick you up if you want!"

With Lucas still battling a fever, Allison couldn't risk him outside in the chill. She had to finish arguing with Kyle. "Stay inside and wait for me. I'll be back soon."

From the other end, Derek's voice cut in, steady and cold. "Want me to send a car for you?"

Watching his son's anxious expression, Derek knew he couldn't let Allison slip away again.

Allison steadied her nerves. "No, things are wrapping up here."

Derek asked, his tone unchanged, "Did something happen?"

Allison had no idea how he'd picked up on the tension in her voice, but she didn't need anyone else meddling. "Everything's fine. I'll head back in a bit. Please just keep an eye on Luc, especially if his fever spikes."

She ended the call, then faced Kyle. "I have somewhere to be. If you have more to say, you can explain it to the officers."

Kyle fidgeted, refusing to meet her gaze. "I'm sorry. My son is still in the hospital... You've got your own child now, too. For the kids' sake, and whatever happened before, it was my family's fault, not yours. Please, tell me what you want. I'll do anything."

For a split second, Allison's anger faltered. She'd involved the police hoping to make the Clark family finally respect her boundaries. She knew what it would mean for them—jail time, public shame, reputations ruined.

But she also knew Kyle's mother would never let her go if things ended like this.

Staring at Kyle now, all Allison felt was disgust. She wanted every last tie to him severed.

"Here's what's going to happen," she said, voice firm. "You'll pay me four years' rent at market rate, cover the repairs for any damage, pack up your things, and move out by the end of the week. After that, I never want to see you or anyone from your family again."

Kyle nodded quickly, desperate to put the mess behind him. "Absolutely. Thank you."

Turning to the officers, Allison dipped her head. "Sorry for the trouble, officers. We'll settle this ourselves."

The officers, more than happy to leave, gave them a few parting words and slipped out the door.

Within minutes, Kyle transferred the money and promised to be gone in forty-eight hours.

Before stepping out, Allison stopped, the question that had haunted her for years finally pushing to the surface. "Kyle, why did you choose her back then?"

She wanted answers, even if they hurt.

Kyle's eyes stayed fixed on the floor as he struggled to get the words out. "It wasn't intentional. You were away on a trip for work, and I drank more than I should have. I honestly thought she was you. Things got out of hand, and then she ended up pregnant. My mom always dreamed of having a grandchild—you know how she is..."

Allison raised her hand, cutting him off. "That's enough. Just leave."

She pressed her back to the door after he left, her strength draining away.

The plan was only to grab a change of clothes, but it felt as if her whole life had already been erased from these walls.

The stale air suffocated her, pressing in from every side. There was nothing here for her now.

Without taking anything, she stepped out into the hallway, only to find Derek standing by the entrance. His presence surprised her. "What are you doing here?"

Derek's gaze dropped to her empty hands, no luggage in sight. He remembered crossing paths with Kyle, who had left looking completely defeated.

He didn't bother with any questions. "I'm here to drive you home."

The look on his face was resigned, as if this whole errand was someone else's idea.

In truth, it had been. His son had looked him straight in the eye and insisted, "Go pick up Mom."

The ride was quiet, with neither of them finding much to say.

Aside from Lucas, there was nothing to discuss, and Allison didn't have the energy for small talk.

When the car passed a mall, she finally spoke. "Could you pull over? I need to buy a few things."

Derek replied, "Anything you need, you'll find at the house."

Allison didn't bother to argue. She had no plans to stay at his residence for long, anyway.

Sinking back into the seat, she pulled out her phone and sent a quick message to Tricia. "I'm back."