Serena’s POV

I pulled Rancy toward the car, but she dug her heels into the gravel, tears streaming down her chubby cheeks. I’d never seen my daughter this defiant before.

"NO! NO GO!" she screamed, her tiny voice echoing across the perfectly manicured lawn of Manor House. Her little body trembled with emotion as she tried to twist out of my grasp.

My patience snapped. I felt my face harden as I knelt to her level.

"Rancy," I said, my voice dangerously low. "You don’t listen to Mommy anymore? Fine. Since you love it here so much, maybe Mommy should just leave without you."

I dropped her hand and turned toward the car, pulling the door open with a sharp tug. It was an empty threat—I’d never leave my baby—but I needed her to understand the gravity of this situation.

Panic flashed across her tear-streaked face. Her little legs wobbled as she lunged forward, tiny fingers clutching desperately at my sleeve.

"Mommy! Rancy sorry! Sorry!" she sobbed, hiccupping between words. "But Rancy no want new school! Rancy want—"

I felt panic rising in my chest. We needed to leave. Now.

"Rancy, if you don’t get up right this second, Mommy will—"

"Serena?"

That voice. Deep, commanding, with a hint of disbelief. It froze me in place, sending an involuntary shiver down my spine.

I didn’t want to turn around. Some primal instinct told me not to. Cedric’s warnings echoed in my mind: "Ryan Blackwood is dangerous. He’ll do anything to get what he wants. If he ever finds you..."

My daughter had stopped crying, looking over my shoulder with wide eyes. Slowly, I forced myself to turn.

The man standing there was devastating in his intensity. Tall, imposing, with storm-gray eyes that seemed to bore right through me. Eyes that widened in shock as they took me in.

"It’s really you," he whispered, his voice hoarse with emotion. "After all this time..."

His hand reached toward my face, and I flinched back violently, nearly stumbling over Rancy.

"Don’t touch me," I hissed, pulling my daughter behind me protectively.

Confusion clouded his expression. "Serena, what’s wrong? What happened to you? Three years... do you have any idea what I’ve been through trying to find you?"

His words made no sense. I’d never met this man before Rancy started kindergarten with his daughter. Why was he acting like he knew me?

"I’m sorry, Mr. Blackwood, but you’re mistaking me for someone else." My voice was steady despite the fear churning in my stomach. "My name is Serena Lancaster."

Something dark and desperate flashed across his face. "Lancaster? No... that’s not possible." He moved closer, his gaze intense. "Look at me, Serena. It’s Ryan. Your husband."

My blood ran cold. Cedric had warned me about this—how obsessed the powerful Ryan Blackwood had been with Cedric’s wife before our marriage. How he’d tried to claim her as his own.

"I’ve never been married to you," I said firmly, though my heart was racing. "I’m married to Cedric Lancaster. This is our daughter, Rancy."

He shook his head, almost violently. "No. No, that’s not right." He gestured toward a little girl standing frozen behind him—Vivian, my daughter’s friend. "This is our daughter, Vivian. And somewhere inside, you know that."

I felt dizzy, the ground seeming to shift beneath my feet. Vivian did look strangely familiar sometimes, but...

"Mr. Blackwood," I forced myself to sound calm, collected, "I don’t know what delusion you’re suffering from, but I am not your wife. I’ve never been your wife. Please stay away from me and my daughter."

"Daddy?" Vivian’s small voice piped up, tugging at his sleeve. "Is Lancaster auntie really my mommy?"

I used their momentary distraction to scoop up Rancy and practically run to my car, fumbling with the keys as my hands trembled violently.

"Wait!" Ryan called, starting after me. "Serena, please! Just let me explain!"

I slammed the car door shut, locking it immediately as I strapped Rancy into her seat. Through the window, I could see the raw emotion on Ryan’s face—pain, confusion, desperation.

For just a split second, something deep inside me wavered. A flash of... something. Recognition? Impossible.

I started the car with shaking hands and drove away, watching Ryan’s devastated figure grow smaller in my rearview mirror.

"Mommy?" Rancy’s small voice came from the back seat. "Why did Vivian’s daddy say you’re her mommy?"

I gripped the steering wheel tighter, knuckles turning white. "Because... because he’s confused, sweetie. He’s mistaking me for someone else."

But as the Blackwood estate disappeared behind us, a strange, unwelcome thought crept into my mind: What if he wasn’t?

Ryan’s POV

I feel my heart drop into my stomach as I watch the car drive away. Three years. Three fucking years of searching, praying, hoping—only to have her look at me like I’m a monster and drive away.

"That was her. That was really her," I mutter, barely conscious that I’m speaking aloud.

My mind races with impossible questions. How did my wife become Serena Lancaster? Why does she act like she doesn’t know me? And that little girl—Rancy—is she mine too?

"Daddy?"

Vivian tugs at my sleeve, confusion written all over her little face. She shouldn’t be dealing with this mess on her birthday, of all days. Behind us, I can hear the murmur of party guests who’ve wandered outside, drawn by the commotion.

"Are you saying Lancaster auntie is my mommy? How is that possible?"

I kneel down to her level, my hands trembling as I place them on her shoulders. "Vivian, this is complicated. Please go back inside. I need to handle something important."

Her eyebrows scrunch together, exactly the way Serena’s do when she’s displeased. "But it’s my birthday party."

"I know, princess. I’m sorry." I motion for the housekeeper, who hurries over. "Take care of the guests. I have to go out."

I don’t wait for a response. Within minutes, I’m behind the wheel, speeding toward Lancaster headquarters. My knuckles turn white as I grip the steering wheel, rage building with every mile.

Cedric Lancaster. That bastard has to be behind this.

The security guards at Lancaster’s building don’t even attempt to stop me. I storm through the lobby, ignoring the receptionist’s protests, and head straight for the executive floor.

Cedric’s assistant jumps to her feet when I burst in. "Sir, you can’t just—"

I push past her and throw open his office door.

There he sits, the smug bastard, looking up from his paperwork with only mild surprise. As if he’s been expecting me.

"Well, if it isn’t Mr. Blackwood. To what do I owe this pleasure?" His voice is calm, collected—infuriating.

I cross the room in three strides and yank him up by his designer suit collar. "You son of a bitch. It was you all along!"

His eyes widen slightly, but he maintains that irritating composure. "I’m afraid I don’t understand your accusation."

"Cut the bullshit!" I slam him against the wall, satisfaction surging through me when he winces. "You’ve been hiding my wife for three years. All those extended trips to your international branches—you were with her, weren’t you?"

A faint smirk appears on his face, and something inside me snaps. My fist connects with his jaw before I can think better of it.

Blood appears at the corner of his mouth. He spits it out, then has the audacity to laugh. "Still the same Ryan—impulsive and arrogant as ever."

"What did you tell her about me?" I demand, tightening my grip.

He straightens his collar, that infuriating smile never leaving his face. "My wife is Serena Lancaster, not your missing Serena. Do you have any proof they’re the same person? Is it a crime to marry someone who resembles your lost wife?"

The mention of marriage makes my blood boil hotter. Before I can land another punch, security guards burst in, surrounding us.

Cedric wipes the blood from his lip, adjusting his jacket with exaggerated care. "While you may rule New York with an iron fist, Ryan, I should remind you—this is London. The Lancaster family has deep ties with the Quinns. If you want to create chaos, be my guest."

He sits back down at his desk, composed despite the bruise forming on his face. "But I’ll say this once more—my wife, Serena Lancaster, is not your Serena. Whatever you think you saw today was merely a remarkable resemblance."

I stand there, chest heaving, knowing I’ve accomplished nothing except giving him the satisfaction of seeing me lose control.

"This isn’t over," I warn, backing toward the door.

"It never began," he replies smoothly.

As I storm out of the building, my mind is chaos. Three years without a trace, and suddenly Serena reappears—with a different life, and apparently no memory of me. Or is she pretending? What has Cedric told her?

I need answers. And I won’t stop until I get them.