Krista Brown POV

Jorja stepped out from the doorway, sinking to her knees at my feet.

"Krista, I am so sorry. I'll disappear. Just please don't fight with them."

Her tears felt performative—forced, almost theatrical.

She looked up, appealing to Broderick and Elijah. "I swear, I never meant for any of this to happen."

Elijah rushed forward, helping Jorja to her feet. His hand lingered on her arm.

He looked at me, cold and accusatory. "You're being unreasonable. Jorja is innocent."

Broderick stepped between us. "You're blaming her out of grief. Jorja loved those girls."

He fixed me with a stern look. "You're just jealous of her connection with us."

Jealous? My children were dead.

"Do you know what this could do to her career?" Elijah pressed. "This accusation would destroy everything."

I stared at them—my husband, my brother—shielding Jorja with a concern they hadn't shown my daughters.

Only this morning, Anna and Nora had embraced me. We had laughed over breakfast.

How could they turn on me so viciously?

Jorja watched me from behind their shoulders. Her eyes held a glint that was anything but sorrowful.

Triumph.

"I will not compromise," I said, my voice hoarse. "I will pursue every legal avenue. I will get justice for my daughters."

Elijah's eyes narrowed. He scooped Jorja into his arms.

"Make sure no lawyer in this city takes her case, Broderick. Use whatever influence you have."

Broderick nodded. "Consider it done."

The door slammed shut.

I heard Elijah's muffled voice: "Keep her confined. No visitors. No phone calls."

My legs gave out. I crumpled to the floor.

I remembered the early days. Jorja had tried everything to get rid of me. Elijah and Broderick always defended me. Or so I believed.

Then I recalled the day Jorja packed a bag and left in a dramatic fit of tears.

"Good riddance," Broderick had said. "You, Krista—you're the real deal."

Elijah had pulled me close. "You're the only Alston woman who matters to us now."

They never suggested I change my last name to Alston.

Now I understood. I was never truly family. Just a placeholder.

Ten years of living a lie.

They had taken my children. My freedom.

They would not take my will.

I took out my phone and dialed every lawyer in Boston. Hundreds of calls.

Each one ended the same. "I'm sorry, I can't take your case."

Broderick's influence was absolute.

Drowning in despair, I posted a desperate plea online. "Seeking legal representation. Justice for Anna and Nora."

One day passed. Two.

Silence.

I screamed. I ran at the iron door. I clawed at the steel until my hands bled.

"Let me out!"

My pleas bounced off padded walls.

Exhaustion took me.

Then footsteps.

The door creaked open.

Jorja stood there, a triumphant smirk on her lips. Pristine white dress. Perfect hair.

She surveyed my disheveled state. Her eyes gleamed.

"Still stubborn, Krista? You should just sign the papers."

She thought she had won. She had no idea I was about to fight back.

Krista Brown POV

Jorja stepped closer, her voice dropping to a whisper.

"You want to know how Anna and Nora died? I'll tell you."

My blood ran cold.

"The girls were playing. Being careless. I told them not to. But they never listened, did they?"

She shrugged.

"The fire was just an accident."

She paused, letting the words sink in. "But don't worry. Elijah and Broderick will always protect me. They owe me. Their lives belong to me."

I stared at her, hatred burning a hole through my chest. She was confessing. Flaunting her impunity.

Then her words triggered a sickening memory.

It wasn't Jorja who had donated the liver.

It was me.

Eight months pregnant, I had received a frantic call. Elijah and Broderick were in critical condition after a lab accident. They needed a liver transplant.

I was the only match.

But I was pregnant.

Doctors performed an emergency C-section, delivering my premature twins. They were barely clinging to life.

I watched them in the NICU—tiny, vulnerable, connected to tubes.

My recovery from the C-section and partial liver donation was agonizing.

Jorja saw an opportunity. She visited Elijah and Broderick, taking credit for my sacrifice. She spun a tale of heroic selflessness.

Weak and unable to speak for myself, I couldn't correct the narrative.

The truth was lost in the chaos.

I had chosen peace, focused on my babies.

I never imagined that silence would become the weapon used to destroy my children.

Jorja's voice cut through my thoughts.

"And your other daughter, Nora? Still in a coma, isn't she?"

She smiled—a sickening, fake smile.

"It would be truly tragic if something happened to her. Wouldn't it?"

Nora. My surviving twin. Still fighting for her life.

This demon was threatening her.

I lunged.

Strong arms seized me. A sharp prick in my arm. The world spun.

Elijah stood over me, his face cold with fury.

"Krista, I warned you."

Jorja clutched her wrist, whimpering. "Oh, Elijah, she didn't mean it."

"You lying bitch!" I screamed. "You let them die! You stole my sacrifice!"

Elijah's eyes flashed. "Enough. Jorja is innocent. You're delusional."

"My children! How dare you?"

I tried to appeal to the man I once loved. "They were your daughters, Elijah!"

He scoffed.

"My children? Anna and Nora were always sick. They don't even look like me."

He paused, his eyes growing colder.

"I always suspected they weren't mine."

The father of my children had doubted them from birth. And now I knew why he had let them die.