Albert Harrison felt a suffocating weight in his chest as he stared at the medical report. Shiloh’s blood type was B.

Rose was type A. Caspian Hughes was type O.

The math didn't add up. The conclusion was a cold, hard knife to the gut: this child likely wasn't Caspian’s.

Albert’s brows knit together, his heart curdling with dread. His daughter was still lying in that hospital bed, her future hanging by a thread. If the child’s paternity was a lie, how could he look the Hughes family in the eye? He felt sick.

He let out a long, jagged sigh and signaled for his wife, Margaret Hayes, to come over.

"Albert? What’s wrong?" Margaret looked frayed, her face pale and drawn. The last few days had taken a toll, leaving her looking years older.

"Margaret, you’ve been through so much," Albert said, pulling her into a tight, desperate embrace. He closed his eyes, his exhaustion absolute.

"Don't talk like that," she choked out, her voice trembling. "Look at you—your hair has gone white overnight." She knew the pain he was in; Rose’s condition was tearing them both apart.

Albert paused, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed the bitterness rising in his throat. He patted her back, forcing a shift in focus. "We still have Shiloh to think about. How is he doing today?"

Margaret wiped her eyes. "He’s doing well. The doctor said Rose took such good care of herself during the pregnancy that Shiloh hasn’t suffered much. A month of proper care at the hospital and he’ll be back to normal."

"Good. Good. As long as the boy is fine," Albert murmured, though his voice remained strained. He took a steadying breath. "There’s something we need to discuss."

"What is it? Tell me."

Albert sighed again, the sound hollow. "Shiloh... he might not be Caspian’s child."

"What?" Margaret’s eyes went wide, her composure shattering instantly.

"You heard me correctly," Albert confirmed, his voice dropping to a whisper.

"But... how..." Margaret couldn't even form the words.

"We have to be honest with the Hughes family," Albert said, shaking his head. "We can't hide something this significant. And there's the other issue—Caspian never told his parents about Rose’s previous marriage."

"I’ll call them tomorrow," Margaret said, her brows furrowed in distress. "What Caspian did… that wasn't right."

The next day, the two couples met.

The atmosphere in the room was heavy, suffocating. Both sets of parents sat in silence, the shadow of Rose’s medical crisis hanging over them like a shroud.

Veronica Hughes, thinking this meeting was about the secret marriage Caspian had failed to disclose, reached out with a stiff smile. "Margaret, please, don't be so hard on yourselves. Caspian told us about Rose’s past. Gideon and I… we’ve accepted it."

Gideon Hughes nodded in agreement.

Margaret glanced at her husband, then looked down at her hands, her voice barely a breath. "It isn't just that. Albert and I... we have another, much worse suspicion."

"A worse suspicion?" Veronica asked, her smile faltering.

Margaret closed her eyes, plunging into the dark water. "Caspian is type O, isn’t he?"

"Yes, that’s correct," Veronica said, sensing the shift in the room.

Gideon’s expression hardened. He turned his gaze toward Albert, a sudden, sharp question in his eyes. He didn't need to ask. Albert simply closed his eyes and gave a slow, silent nod of confirmation.

The truth hit Gideon like a physical blow. He gripped the edge of Veronica’s coat, his face a mask of jagged, complex emotions.