The room was still—too still.
Reyan sat on the edge of the bed, his fingers gripping the box the man had handed him like it was made of glass. The quiet hum of the air conditioner seemed louder than his own thoughts. His father—the man he thought he'd known all his life—was not really his father. The woman who'd raised him, called him her son, wasn't his mother.
She was his aunt.
His real mother... was alive. Somewhere. Being watched. Hunted, maybe. And his biological father—some psychotic tycoon cloaked in power and secrets—wanted him dead.
Reyan didn't cry. Not because it didn't hurt, but because the pain hadn't fully sunk in yet. It sat behind his ribs like a stone, too heavy to move. He felt betrayed. Hollow. Like the world had lied to him from the very beginning. All those birthdays. All those tears over "dead" parents.
All a façade.
Liora sat quietly beside him. She had opened the sealed box after Reyan couldn't bring himself to do it. Inside was a photo album and an old, clunky wristwatch, scratched at the sides like it had been worn for years by someone who treasured it.
Liora flipped through the album. Some pages were missing. But then—
Her breath caught. A photograph had slipped from between the pages.
A group picture. Familiar trees in the background. A picnic spread. And in the center: two couples, one of them being her parents. Standing beside them—Reyan's adoptive parents.
And then another pair. A red-haired woman with a soft smile, a man standing beside her with strikingly silver eyes. In their arms, a child with a birthmark on his collarbone.
Reyan's birthmark.
She turned the photo over. In neat handwriting: "With love, for the day they'll remember—Liora, Reyan, and…" The rest was smudged.
Liora stared at it for a long time. Her throat tightened.
"I think…" she started, voice shaking. "I think we knew each other. When we were really little."
Reyan leaned over and looked at the photo. He didn't speak, but something shifted in his expression. Realization. Regret. The question that had haunted him since childhood—Why don't I remember anything before age six?—suddenly made cruel sense.
He took the photo in trembling hands.
"I'm going to find out the truth," he whispered. "No matter what it takes. No more lies."
Liora met his eyes. "Then we'll find it together."
The next day began like a blur. They boarded a cab to head toward Reyan's next therapy session, their minds lost in the storm of discoveries. But fate had other plans.
It happened so fast. A screech. A honk. A violent crash.
Liora remembered being flung sideways. Reyan's arm reaching for her. Then darkness.
When she opened her eyes, everything was white.
The hospital. Again.
But Reyan wasn't beside her. Panic clawed at her chest.
She asked the nurse.
"There was no one else with you," the woman said politely.
"No—there was a boy. He was injured—his name is Reyan—he was with me in the car!"
"I'm sorry, miss. The paramedics only brought you in."
Liora stared, numb. A thousand thoughts raced. Someone had taken him. Someone who didn't want him to reach that hospital again.
She knew. She knew.
Meanwhile, Reyan woke up in a different hospital.
The windows were barred.
Outside his room, men in black suits stood like statues. Armed. Silent.
When he tried to get up, one of them stepped in.
"You're not to leave, sir. The doctor will check on you shortly."
A tall man in a pristine white coat arrived, did a cursory check, and nodded. "You're fine to be discharged."
"But—I don't even know where I am!"
"You'll be escorted," the doctor said. No further explanation.
They drove him in a black, heavily tinted car. The route was unfamiliar. Remote.
When the gates finally opened, Reyan stared in stunned silence.
A mansion. Marble pillars. Gold accents. Security cameras in every corner.
Inside, the butler greeted him like expected royalty.
"Please wait in the drawing room. The Master will see you shortly."
Reyan's breath caught.
It was happening.
He'd been found.
The man entered minutes later.
Tall. Dark suit. Sharp eyes. Hair silver like his own. The resemblance was haunting.
"You look just like your mother," the man said, smiling as though he'd just found a lost heirloom.
Reyan stared. "You're my…?"
"Father. By blood, if nothing else."
"Why am I here?!"
The man chuckled. "Because your dear parents did a very good job hiding you. But now they're gone. And there's nothing left protecting you."
Reyan stepped back. "What do you want from me?"
His father's smile turned sharp. Cold.
"Only what your blood owes me."
Meanwhile, back in town, Liora wasn't sitting still.
She called the only person who could help—Aisha, the woman Reyan had seen during the Sahana Project submission.
"Aisha, I need to find someone. Fast. I think he's been kidnapped."
"What? Who?"
"Reyan. I think his real father took him. And he's dangerous."
Aisha didn't ask further. "Send me everything. Last location. Plate number if you saw one."
Together, they pulled CCTV footage, hacked into street cams, matched timestamps.
Aisha tracked the car to a company under the name Orinth Holdings.
Liora researched it. The CEO: Rhellen Orinth. A silent giant in tech and luxury, but rumors swirled about cult affiliations, secret charities, missing people.
She traced back archives, found an old photo—Rhellen and his wife. Silver eyes. Red hair.
They matched the ones in the photo.
Reyan's real parents.
Her breath left her body.
Then, she saw a name—Verin Orinth. Listed as missing. Presumed dead. No remains found.
That was Reyan's mother.
And Rhellen? He was alive, active, and now... had Reyan.
Liora's fingers curled around her phone. She didn't wait.
"I'm going to that mansion. I don't care if it's guarded by hellhounds."
Aisha paused. "Then I'm coming too."