By the time my father reached the crash site, he had already ordered an entire team of the nation’s top specialists to prepare for emergency surgery.
It was my eldest brother, Julian, who tore open the twisted car door with his bare hands to pull me out.
The driver hadn’t survived.
The moment my father saw me, his face drained of all color.
I was rushed into the emergency unit in his arms.
“Sir… your daughter’s pulse is extremely weak,” the doctor reported urgently. “It appears she was involved in a previous accident not long ago and had already undergone surgery. And…” He hesitated.
“And what?” my brother Jake demanded.
“She has suffered a miscarriage,” the doctor continued grimly. “Her body is too fragile to endure another operation right now. The only option is to use electrical defibrillation to attempt to stabilize her heartbeat.”
The doctor left immediately after my father gave his consent.
“But Dad, what if—”
“There is no ‘what if,’” my father cut in sharply. “Emilia is my daughter. She will survive. She has to.”
My mother, Elena, clutched his arm tightly. Tears filled her eyes, but beneath them burned uncontrollable fury.
“She called me,” my father said hoarsely, his voice breaking for the first time in years. “Right before the accident. She was terrified…”
“My precious girl thought she was a burden,” my mother whispered, trembling with rage. “The man who made her feel that way—I’ll make sure his regret lasts a lifetime.”
---
At the same time, an unexplainable unease crept over Damian.
He reached for his phone to call me—only for Adriana to stop him.
“You should give her space,” she said gently. “She’s probably already home, trying to calm down.”
Damian hesitated, then nodded. “If I give in now, she’ll only get used to throwing tantrums.”
---
The following morning, he called the house staff.
“Is Emilia awake yet? Why isn’t she answering her phone? Let me speak to her—I’m at her favorite café. Ask her what she wants.”
“But, sir… Mrs. Damian didn’t come home last night.”
A sharp pang pierced his chest. Still, he forced himself to remain calm.
She must be at the office, ignoring him out of spite.
“Put me through to her supervisor.”
“Yes… this is Sarah,” the woman replied, startled by the unexpected call.
“Tell Emilia to answer the phone immediately. How could she be this reckless and not contact me even once—”
“I’m sorry, but Emilia didn’t come to work today.”
“What do you mean… she’s not at home either?”
His confidence crumbled with every passing second.
Then the television mounted on the café wall abruptly changed to a breaking news broadcast.
The headline froze him in place:
[HEIRESS Emilia REYNOLDS CRITICALLY INJURED IN A DEVASTATING CAR CRASH]
At that very moment, his phone buzzed with a group call from his mother and Adriana. Adriana was sobbing while his mother tried to soothe her.
“Damian, the welcome banquet has been canceled,” his mother said. “No one will attend any celebration when the nation’s heiress is fighting for her life. Adriana is terribly shaken—”
“I don’t care!” Damian snapped for the first time in his life.
“The banquet means nothing when I don’t even know where my wife is!”
“What? Emilia disappeared?” his mother scoffed coldly. “To think she’d act so immature while pregnant—Damian, you never should’ve married that orphan—”
The phone slipped from his hand before she could finish.
His blood turned to ice as the news screen shifted to a family feature photo.
A powerful billionaire patriarch and his wife were seated at the center, flanked by two successful sons. On the man’s lap sat a little girl, cradled with unmistakable affection.
The caption confirmed what his heart already feared.
Emilia Reynolds.
The billionaire heiress.
Pampered. Protected. Cherished beyond measure.
Only then did he truly notice it—
The same golden-blonde hair.
The faint black streak running through it.
Even the same name.
His wife… and the missing heiress…
Were the same person.
