Five years later, Alexandria Rodriguez returned to the Cole estate.

Her parents were drowning in apologies for everything she’d endured while she was away. Even Callahan Meyer, Maya’s fiancé, couldn’t hide the way his gaze lingered on his old flame.

The house was thick with anticipation. Everyone was waiting for Maya—the girl they’d raised as their own—to snap. Would she scream? Have a breakdown? Start a scene?

Maya didn't give them the satisfaction.

She stood in the hallway, watching in silence as they hauled luggage into her bedroom. Her bedroom.

"Maya," her mother said, her voice strained with forced brightness. "Alexandria always loved the natural light in the master suite. About your room..."

"I’ll take the guest suite," Maya interrupted. Her voice was flat, hollow. "I’ll clear it out for her right now."

The next night, Callahan was supposed to take her to a birthday dinner.

Maya waited at the restaurant until 8:00 PM. When her phone finally buzzed, it wasn’t a reservation update.

"I’m sorry, Maya," Callahan said. "Alexandria got turned around at the mall. I have to go find her."

"Fine," Maya replied, her composure unshaken. "Go get her. I'll just spend my birthday alone."

On the third day, the medical report arrived.

She was pregnant.

Peter, Martha, and Callahan reached a verdict before the ink on the paper was even dry: the pregnancy had to go.

"Maya, you can't keep this baby," her mother said, her face a mask of cold, sharp urgency. "Alexandria was devastated when she heard. She's terrified that once the baby comes, she’ll be pushed to the sidelines of this family."

Callahan stood by the window, his back rigid. He didn't turn when he spoke.

"When you and Alexandria were switched at birth, my engagement shifted to you, Maya," he said. "Alexandria has lost enough. Now that she's finally home, seeing you pregnant... it’s a lot for her to process."

He turned around, his jaw tight. "The baby—we can have more later. Right now? It isn’t the time."

They went on, circling the same point: Alexandria’s feelings, Alexandria’s trauma. They spoke as if Maya’s pregnancy was nothing more than a clerical error—a nuisance that needed to be erased.

They were waiting for her to explode.

Peter had his speech ready to soothe her. Martha was prepared with a list of justifications in case she fought back. Callahan was already clutching a consolation gift, his fingers digging into the edge of the mahogany table.

Maya just set the report on the coffee table and gave a single, sharp nod.

"Fine," she said. "When’s the appointment? Today? I’ll head to the hospital."

She grabbed her coat from the back of the chair and turned toward the door.

"Maya?" Martha gasped, stunned by the total lack of resistance. "You… you’re just agreeing?"

Maya glanced over her shoulder. "What else would you like me to do?"

Peter looked like he’d been slapped. He paced a short, frantic circle in the middle of the room. "Don’t you have anything to say? Any objections?"

"Does it matter what I think?" Maya pulled at the corner of her mouth in a cold, humorless smile. "If I fought this, would any of you change your minds?"

She walked out. The three of them exchanged a panicked look before scrambling after her, reeling from her sudden, icy detachment.

The hospital smelled like antiseptic and regret.

Maya changed into a surgical gown, pinning her hair back with a disposable cap. Her face was pale, devoid of anything resembling the woman they thought they knew.

Just as she reached the surgical suite, Callahan grabbed her wrist. His grip was bruising.

"Are you really going through with this so easily?" he hissed, his voice thick with frustration. "No argument? No tears? This is our child—are you actually this indifferent?"

Maya looked up at him.

Callahan had always been striking. A razor-sharp jaw, deep-set eyes, and thin lips that gave him the look of a man who owned every room he stepped into.

Right now, those brows were furrowed. His eyes were turbulent, swirling with confusion, scrutiny, and a flicker of panic he was clearly trying to bury. He ran a hand through his hair, his composure finally fraying.

She almost laughed.

"Indifferent?" she repeated softly, as if she were considering the word for the first time. "Callahan, are you saying you’ve changed your mind? You want to keep the baby?"

Callahan flinched, his eyes darting away from her gaze. His voice turned defensive, sharp. "That’s not what I meant. It’s just... you’ve changed, Maya."

"Is that so?" Maya’s smile didn’t touch her eyes. "People change. But you three?"

Her gaze flicked over her parents and then back to him.

"You’re all exactly the same."

Everything they touched, everything they breathed, was still orbiting Alexandria.

Callahan felt a spike of irritation, tangled with a cold, creeping dread he couldn't name. He reached for her hand, his tone shifting into a forced, needy plea.

"Maya, don't be like this. The baby... we can have more later. I promise."

Later.

Maya pried his fingers off her wrist, one by one.

"The procedure is starting."

She turned her back on him and walked toward the operating room, whispering to the ghost of the life she was about to end.

*No. There will never be another child of ours.*

She had already signed the papers to sever every tie to the Cole name. Once her immigration paperwork cleared at the end of the month, she would be gone for good.