WonNovels

My boyfriend's older brother hated my guts.

Right from our first meeting, he put me in my place.

"Which backwater town did he fish this ugly duckling out of?"

I swallowed my pride for my boyfriend's sake, only to accidentally wake up ten years in the future.

A timid five-year-old boy looked up at me. "Can you come to my preschool's Family Day tomorrow?"

Staring at the kid whose features were a carbon copy of my boyfriend's, my heart melted. I nodded eagerly.

He excitedly dragged me off to find my boyfriend.

Instead, I crashed right into his older brother.

Before I could even stammer out an apology, the kid's cheerful voice rang out: "Dad, Mom finally said yes!"

Me: ?

01

Carter steadied me, then slowly withdrew his hands.

His gaze flicked to the boy. "Noah. It's past your bedtime."

Noah reluctantly let go of my hand, conflict warring in his eyes. But under Carter's signature oppressive stare, the kid dutifully trudged back to his bedroom.

I watched the whole thing unfold, my brain completely short-circuiting.

Calling Carter 'Dad'?

And I'm his mom?

Before I went to sleep, I was a bright-eyed, twenty-year-old college student. How did I wake up as a married mother of a five-year-old?

And married to Carter, of all people???

No. He's my boyfriend's brother. How the hell did I end up in some taboo romance with my future brother-in-law a decade later?

Where did my perfectly good boyfriend go?!

Carter watched Noah's door click shut. Then, his gaze pinned me to the spot.

After a few excruciating seconds, he asked, "Aren't you going to sleep? It's late."

My brain abandoned all rational thought. I blurted out the first thing that came to mind. "Right. Sleep. Going to sleep now."

I looked up, a wave of disorientation hitting me.

The Carter standing in front of me was vastly different from the one I knew ten years ago. He couldn't be more than thirty-five, right? So why did he have so much white hair?

I clicked my tongue internally. Wall Street hours really did age a person.

Thanks to my deeply ingrained terror of him, I couldn't handle his intense scrutiny. I bit the bullet and retreated to the bedroom I'd just stumbled out of.

Carter followed me in.

I could feel his heavy gaze burning into my back the entire time.

Jesus. Someone please tell me why future-me married Carter and had a five-year-old son with him?

Before I could piece together a single coherent theory, Carter held out a small white pill.

"Vitamins," he said, his tone perfectly flat.

Suspicion flared in my chest.

Vitamins? Then why not just hand me the bottle?

Maybe we stood there in a standoff for too long. Carter let out a barely audible sigh.

He lowered his eyes and pulled the pill away. His movements were practiced. Almost as if he was entirely used to being rejected.

"Leave it if you're not going to take it."

He didn't push the issue, just told me to get some rest, and walked out.

His departure left me even more bewildered.

Was my marriage to Carter really this bad ten years down the line? We slept in separate bedrooms??

Then again. If I actually had to share a bed with him, I'd probably suffer night terrors until dawn.

02

That wasn't an exaggeration.

Carter had genuinely left me with some serious psychological scarring.

Our first meeting was at my boyfriend Julian's birthday party. As Julian's girlfriend, I played the part perfectly—charming, socially adept, totally presentable.

But the second Carter laid eyes on me, his brow furrowed in disgust.

"Which backwater town did he fish this ugly duckling out of?"

Excuse me?

Ugly?

I was objectively gorgeous, with a figure to match. Exactly how blind was this man to drop a line like that with a straight face?

If it had been anyone else, I would have ripped them a new one.

But Carter was Julian's older brother. The heir to the family trust. A notoriously cold-blooded corporate bastard.

I ground my teeth together and forced a smile. "Hi, Carter. I'm Julian's girlfriend."

Carter's expression didn't so much as twitch. He didn't even look at me again.

He let out a low scoff and turned to Julian. "Julian. When did your standards for company drop so low?"

Julian shifted awkwardly, trying to smooth things over. "Come on, Carter, Sierra is great. Once you get to know her—"

"Pass," Carter cut him off smoothly, his gaze already wandering away. "Gift's on the table. Enjoy the party."

And just like that, he walked away. He didn't even wish his own brother a happy birthday.

It was as if Julian was nothing more than an insignificant ornament in his eyes.

I found out later that his little power trip at the party was just the appetizer. When Carter decided to be toxic, he could make you question your right to breathe oxygen.

Because of that, every time I bumped into him at family gatherings, I broke out in a cold sweat, terrified he'd notice me and drop another soul-crushing insult.

I'd spent months worrying about how this guy would use the family's influence to block our marriage when Julian and I eventually got engaged.

And yet.

Somehow, I skipped ten years and married this absolute nightmare of a man!

I tossed and turned in bed, replaying the sheer absurdity of it all until exhaustion dragged me under.

Somewhere in the haze between sleep and waking, I felt a presence beside me.

Someone was sitting on the edge of the mattress, watching me for a long, long time.

Then, a hand gently brushed through my hair.

So light. So careful.

Who was it...?

03

The intense feeling of being watched finally pulled me awake.

I opened my eyes. Morning sunlight spilled across the room.

Noah was standing there with a tiny backpack strapped to his shoulders, blinking at me with massive, expectant eyes.

"Mom! We gotta go!"

Go? Go where?

I blinked stupidly for a second before last night's conversation clicked. Right. Family Day.

I scrambled out of bed and rushed through my morning routine.

Noah stuck to me like glue. Everywhere I went, he followed, his eyes refusing to leave me for even a second. It was like he was terrified I'd vanish into thin air if he blinked.

My chest tightened. I leaned down and kissed his cheek.

Noah froze. He looked like a stunned little penguin.

A bright flush crawled up his chubby cheeks. He practically jumped in place. "Y-You kissed me!"

I frowned, my heart doing a weird flip.

What kind of reaction was that? Did future-me really not hug and kiss her own child? That was insanely cold.

Before I could spiral further, Carter walked in.

He was already dressed to leave. I stared at him for a solid three seconds.

Damn.

I was so used to seeing him in bespoke three-piece suits. Seeing him in high-end athleisure actually made him look... young.

Then my eyes caught the silver streaking his hair, and I immediately took it back.

Nope. Still old.

Carter's gaze swept over the two of us, taking in the rare moment of maternal affection.

"Events start at nine-thirty," he said flatly.

I let go of Noah and hurriedly finished getting ready.

Sure, a twenty-year-old college student had zero experience being a mother, but looking good was a universal language. The least I could do was make my kid look good by association.

I picked out an outfit based on my twenty-year-old aesthetic.

When I stepped out of the walk-in closet, Noah let out an excited squeal and circled my legs, turning into a pint-sized hype machine.

Carter, on the other hand, froze completely.

His eyes slowly dragged over me from head to toe. Beneath the sheer shock in his gaze, there was something else.

Something that looked a lot like... nostalgia?

04

On the drive to the preschool, I kept my eyes glued to the window while Noah chattered happily in the backseat.

Is this what LA looks like in ten years?

It didn't seem all that different. Technology hadn't exactly catapulted us into a sci-fi utopia. The passing streets looked eerily familiar.

Before I could overanalyze it, we pulled up to the private preschool.

Noah excitedly dragged me inside. Every time we passed one of his little friends, he'd latch onto my leg and announce, "This is my mom! I told you my mom was pretty!"

I let out a soft laugh.

But then the smile felt tight. Something was wrong.

Was this the first time I'd ever come to his school? Why else would he be acting like he had to prove my existence?

I instinctively glanced to my left, catching Carter's eye.

The second I opened my mouth to ask, he looked away.

I: "..."

Classic. Ten years ago or ten years later, Carter was still an infuriating prick.

The outdoor field was set up for dozens of activities. When I saw the obstacle courses, my smile completely died.

Shit. How am I supposed to do this in a skirt?

I was so focused on serving a look I forgot about basic functionality.

"Sit in the bleachers," Carter said mildly. "I'll handle this."

Noah nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah! Don't worry, Mom, I'm definitely winning a medal!"

I forced a smile and retreated to the spectator area.

By ten-thirty, the California sun was beating down hard. I squinted, tracking the father-son duo across the turf.

Maybe the harsh sunlight softened his edges, but Carter didn't look so cold right now. That suffocating aura of his was gone. Seeing him and Noah running around together was actually... a really good picture.

Genetics were a crazy thing. They really did look alike.

But for some reason, I couldn't shake the feeling that Noah looked more like Julian.

The thought of Julian hit me like a truck.

Where was he? Why had Julian completely vanished from this timeline?

And another thing. Why hadn't I been able to find my phone since last night? Had iPhones evolved into neural implants or something?

The creeping sense of dread started expanding in my chest again.

"You must be Noah's mother," a gentle voice interrupted my thoughts.

05

It was the preschool director.

She sat down in the empty seat next to me and struck up a casual conversation. Turns out, the family trust was the primary donor for the school.

I channeled my own mother's polite PTA persona and chatted back.

But the longer we talked, the more my stomach twisted.

What did she mean, 'I know your schedule is demanding'?

What did she mean, 'It would be wonderful to see you more actively involved in the parent-teacher association'?

And what the hell did she mean, 'A mother's presence is irreplaceable at this developmental stage'?

I was reeling.

What exactly was future-me doing with her life? From the way this woman was talking, I sounded like an absent, negligent nightmare of a parent.

I sent the director off in a daze, my eyes drifting back to the field where Carter and Noah were racing.

None of this made sense.

From the moment I woke up in this timeline, everything felt incredibly sinister.

Why did Noah sound so hesitant, almost scared, when he called me 'Mom' last night?

Why did I have no phone, no social life, no job?

Hell, this massive house didn't even have a single family portrait on the walls.

The isolated red flags were starting to connect, weaving a massive, suffocating web.

The cheers and laughter of the other families echoed across the lawn, but I felt entirely detached from reality.

"Mom! Did you see? Was I awesome?"

Noah's voice snapped me back. I nodded numbly.

I spent the rest of the event completely zoned out. Carter must have noticed, because he cut the day short and drove us straight home.

Noah didn't throw a tantrum. He didn't even look disappointed about leaving early. Instead, he kept throwing me anxious, cautious glances from the backseat.

Carter followed me up to the master bedroom.

I stopped in the doorway, blocking his path. "I want to rest. Alone."

He fell silent. His dark eyes scanned my pale, distracted face for a long moment.

"Okay," he said quietly.

06

The second the lock clicked in place, I started tearing the room apart.

The bedroom was massive. It took me half an hour just to ransack one corner, and I found absolutely nothing.

Defeated, I walked into the sprawling closet to change out of my clothes.

Out of the corner of my eye, the bottom drawer of the jewelry island caught my attention. It was like some invisible force was pulling me toward it.

I dropped to my knees and slowly pulled it open.

Inside sat a worn, yellowing leather diary.

I recognized it instantly. It was the one I started using when I was eighteen.

My heart hammered against my ribs. This felt like finding the exit door in the Truman Show.

My hands shook as I opened the cover.

It was heavily damaged. Almost every page had torn corners, or sections violently ripped out.

From eighteen to twenty, the entries were filled with standard, starry-eyed college romance drama. I felt my face heat up reading it. God, I was so cringe back then.

I flipped the pages faster.

As I scanned the fragmented entries, surprise washed over me. Julian and I had actually dated for that long?

I desperately needed to know what happened to cause our breakup.

But suddenly, the entries stopped.

The dates ended abruptly right after my twenty-first birthday.

Disappointment crashed over me. I blindly flipped through the remaining blank, tattered pages, hoping to find something.

Nothing.

I sighed out loud, internally cursing my future self for being so careless with something as important as a diary.

I was just about to close it and stand up.

Then, a small, torn scrap of paper fluttered out from the binding and landed on the carpet.

Just a few words.

But they were enough to stop my heart.

Run!

Leave him!

He's a psychopath!

My scalp prickled. I stared at my own handwriting in absolute horror.

Him?

Carter?

So my breakup with Julian, my marriage to Carter... he orchestrated all of it?

The answer was staring me in the face.

I didn't marry him willingly. Carter used some kind of leverage to tear Julian and me apart, and then he locked me in this house.

It all made sense now. The missing phone. The isolation. The separate bedrooms.

I didn't understand the details, and I was too terrified to dig deeper. My mind focused on one singular, burning thought.

Divorce.

I needed a lawyer.

My breath came in shallow gasps, a vicious headache pounding behind my eyes. My fingers gripped the diary so hard my knuckles turned white.

I clutched my chest and stood up, physiological tears of pure terror pricking my eyes.

Divorce. I have to get out of this house. I have to get away from him.

As I stood up, a shadow fell across the closet doorway.

My blood ran cold.

"Sierra," Carter's voice drifted through the air. "What are you doing?"

07

He stood perfectly still in the entryway of the closet.

His voice was deadpan. Impossible to read.

His eyes looked like deep, empty wells as they fixed on me.

I bit down hard on my lower lip. Pure, unadulterated panic flooded my veins.

I locked the door. I knew I locked the bedroom door. How did he get in?

I didn't want to think about the answer, but it was obvious. Carter had total control over my existence.

Right now, he didn't look like a husband. He looked like a warden.

And I wasn't his wife. I was his prisoner.

"I want a divorce."

The words tumbled out of my mouth before I could stop them. My voice shook violently, but the demand was absolute.

Carter fell dead silent.

A few seconds ticked by.

"Okay," he said.

I froze.

That was it? Just 'okay'?

He wasn't going to argue? Or threaten me? He wasn't even going to ask why?

In the span of three minutes, my heart rate had spiked to cardiac arrest levels and plummeted back down. My brain couldn't process the whiplash.

But looking at Carter's utterly undisturbed expression, I knew he wasn't lying.

Under the closet's recessed lighting, the silver in his hair looked even starker.

I couldn't catch my breath. I just stood there, staring at him.

"State law mandates a thirty-day cooling-off period for divorce proceedings," Carter stated clinically. "You can continue living here until it's finalized."

I stayed rooted to the spot, a strange, tangled knot of emotion forming in my throat.

This was too easy. Alarmingly easy.

But I didn't care. I just needed to get the hell out of here. I needed to find Julian and get my old life back.

08

Carter always kept his word.

When his attorney handed me the copies of the divorce filings, my entire body was trembling.

I still didn't know why my future self married him. But in this exact moment... we were both finally free.

I looked up, only to slam right into Carter's dark, impossibly complex gaze.

My breath caught. My scalp tingled.

How long had he been staring at me like that?

"My phone," I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. "Can I have it back?"

He didn't answer the question directly. "Let's go home first."

When we pulled back into the driveway of the estate, Noah was nowhere to be found.

I hated Carter, yes, but Noah was still my son. I wanted to ask where he was, but Carter's entire demeanor screamed that he was done talking to me.

I swallowed the question.

That night, before bed, Carter walked into my room with a glass of water.

"Get some sleep. I'll give you the phone tomorrow."

I bristled. I wanted it now. But the lingering fear of him kept my mouth shut. I nodded tightly.

Fine, I thought. Tomorrow. I'll get my phone, call my parents, and track down Julian. I'll find out exactly what happened over the last ten years.

I was so deep in my own head I didn't even notice the faint trace of white powder dissolving at the bottom of the glass.

I drank the water. Carter didn't leave.

He stood by the edge of the bed, staring down at my face in utter silence.

I cleared my throat awkwardly. "We're just filing paperwork. We don't have to act like total strangers going forward."

Carter moved abruptly. He leaned down, his handsome, sharp features suddenly filling my entire field of vision.

I couldn't help but analyze his face up close.

His skin was flawless, his jawline sharp enough to cut glass. Aside from the gray hair, nothing about him looked thirty-five.

Old money genes really did age exceptionally well.

Then, his fingers brushed against my skin.

He gently pinched my earlobe, his dark eyes locked onto mine without a single blink. It was like he was trying to burn this exact version of me into his memory forever.

My heart gave a violent, inexplicable lurch. A strange, suffocating ache rose in my chest.

But the moment broke. Carter pulled his hand back and switched off the bedside lamp.

His voice was a low, heavy rumble in the dark. "Sleep well, Sierra."

09

Why did he look at me like that?

And why did that sound so much like a final goodbye?

And where the hell was Noah? It was late. Was he okay?

My mind was spinning too fast to settle. Surprisingly, I woke up in the dead of night.

My throat was parched. I slipped out of bed and headed downstairs for water. Halfway down the sweeping staircase, I froze.

A dark silhouette was sitting on the living room sofa.

Moonlight poured through the French windows, illuminating the sharp angle of his jaw.

The name slipped past my lips before I could think.

"Julian...?"

It was him.

I lost my slippers in my sprint across the hardwood floor.

The moment I crashed into his chest, a flicker of unfamiliarity sparked in the back of my mind, but I ignored it, burying my face into his shirt and clinging to his arms.

I felt the muscles beneath his shirt go rigid.

Then, slowly, his arms wrapped around me, pulling me tight.

The sheer terror and anxiety of the last few days evaporated instantly. I sobbed into his chest. "Julian, where were you? I was so scared. Please take me away from here..."

He let me cry, his large, warm hand stroking my hair in silent comfort.

"I know. I'm right here," he murmured.

His voice sounded deeper, slightly different from the twenty-year-old Julian I remembered. But that made sense. Ten years changes a person's vocal cords.

He picked me up and carried me back upstairs, gently laying me on the mattress.

I looked up at his face, but the room was too dark, and my eyes were swimming with tears. I rubbed them, but my vision stayed blurry.

He caught my hand and squeezed it gently. "Shh. Go to sleep. I'll stay right here with you."

Having him there was an instant anchor. I gripped his hand tight, pulling it against my cheek.

I moved too fast, and my fingernail accidentally dragged hard across the space between his thumb and index finger.

He didn't flinch. He just patted the back of my hand.

"Sleep. Everything's going to be fine."

10

The glaring morning sun woke me up.

The clock on the nightstand read 10:00 AM.

I stared blankly at the ceiling. The whole night felt like a long, fragmented fever dream, but I couldn't piece any of it together.

I rubbed my throbbing temples and dragged myself out of bed to go hunt down Carter for my phone.

I checked the entire ground floor. No Carter.

But I did find Noah.

My eyes lit up. I opened my mouth to call his name.

Noah beat me to it.

"Good morning, ma'am."

My outstretched hand froze mid-air.

Ma'am? Isn't he my son? Why was he talking to me like a hotel concierge?

My mind blanked. I stared in utter confusion at this extremely polite, utterly distant version of Noah.

It was horrifyingly familiar.

Right. The first night I got here, he acted exactly like this. Timid. Cautious. Like he was terrified of offending me. It wasn't until I pinched his cheek that he tentatively called me 'Mom'.

After that, he acted so normal that I'd completely forgotten how we started.

But now, the cautious little boy was back.

Why? Why would a five-year-old completely shift personalities overnight? What kind of psychological state makes a child call his own mother 'ma'am'?

My heart slammed against my ribs. I played along. "Good morning. Whose little boy are you? Why are you in my house?"

Noah didn't even blink. He flashed a picture-perfect, innocent smile.

"I'm the son of Uncle Carter's friend. You can call me Noah."

He had the sweet, soft voice of a toddler, but the words chilled me to the bone.

Kids aren't supposed to be able to lie like this. He delivered the cover story flawlessly.

I stood there, paralyzed, completely unequipped to handle this level of psychological horror.

Thank God, a familiar voice broke the tension.

"Sierra."

The inflection, the tone—it was exactly how Julian used to call my name.

A smile instantly broke across my face. I whipped around.

The smile died. My blood turned to ice.

It was Carter.

Or rather, Carter doing a flawless, terrifying impersonation of Julian.

He was wearing the kind of casual clothes Julian favored. He was matching Julian's cadence. Using Julian's nickname for me.

My eyes dragged down his body and stopped violently on his hand.

Right across the space between his thumb and index finger, there was a thin, fresh scratch.

Last night wasn't a dream.

I had clung to Carter in the dark, crying my eyes out, and I had called him Julian.

And the most terrifying part?

He hadn't corrected me. He had just played the part like it was the most normal thing in the world.

I forced myself to breathe. I looked him dead in the eye and laid the trap. "Julian. Where did you go this morning?"

Carter didn't even flinch at the wrong name.

"Just had to handle some things at the company," he said smoothly, walking toward me.

The father and son flanked me on either side.

A violent shudder ripped through me.

This is insane. Am I the one losing my mind? Or are they the ones who are completely psychotic?

11

Carter was a monster.

It was sick enough that he was roleplaying as his own brother to manipulate me. But forcing a five-year-old to play along with the delusion? That was a special kind of evil.

A surge of pure hatred burned in my chest, but I shoved it down. I couldn't set him off. Not yet.

I needed to reach my parents. I needed to find Julian.

That afternoon, while I was pretending to watch Netflix on the living room sofa, Noah sat a few feet away, quietly flipping through a picture book.

But I could feel him.

He was constantly stealing glances at me. Every time I caught him looking, he'd flash that sickeningly sweet smile and ask, "Is everything okay, ma'am? Do you need me to get you anything?"

The smile made my chest physically ache.

So I kept shaking my head. "No, thank you."

Polite. Distant. Professional. Exactly how he was treating me.

Carter emerged from his home office an hour later, carrying a glass of water. "Sierra. Time for your medication."

I kept my face perfectly neutral, masking the spike of panic. "Am I sick, Julian?"

He nodded. "Your iron levels are low. These are supplements."

I gave him a tight smile and popped the pill into my mouth right in front of him.

"Where's my phone?" I asked casually. "I couldn't find it earlier."

Carter paused, then silently went back to his office and brought it out.

The moment the heavy metal frame hit my palm, adrenaline flooded my system. I kept my face blank. I told him I was hungry and sent him to the kitchen to prep dinner.

The second he turned the corner, I bolted for the downstairs powder room and locked the door.

My fingers flew across the screen, dialing the numbers ingrained in my memory.

My dad. My mom.

Julian.

Three calls.

Three automated voices telling me the numbers had been disconnected.

Julian, fine. Maybe he changed his number to hide from Carter. But my parents? They'd had the same cell numbers for fifteen years.

Why were they disconnected? Where the hell were they?

The tiny spark of hope I'd managed to ignite completely burned out. I was totally, utterly isolated.

12

During dinner, I casually looked at Noah. "Aren't your parents coming to pick you up?"

The kid's expression went completely blank for three agonizing seconds.

Then he smiled. "Soon."

I turned to Carter, issuing a command like it was my right. "Julian, why don't you drive Noah home."

Carter seemed to weigh the request for a minute. Then, he nodded.

I stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows and watched his SUV pull out of the driveway.

It was almost funny. Where exactly was he dropping off his own son? Didn't he feel ridiculous having Noah call him 'Uncle'?

But then, wasn't I doing the exact same thing? Playing dumb while knowing exactly what was going on?

I threw on a jacket, grabbed my purse, and walked out the front door.

I ordered an Uber to the only safe place I knew—my childhood home in the suburbs.

Phones can be disconnected, but a house can't disappear. If I couldn't call them, I'd just show up at the front door.

The neighborhood had expanded massively over the last decade. Sleek, modern townhouses had swallowed up the empty lots next door.

But my house was still there. And the lights were on.

The heavy knot in my chest instantly loosened. Thank God. I knew they wouldn't just vanish.

I practically ran up the driveway and pounded on the front door.

A stranger answered. She wore a uniform—probably a housekeeper or a nanny for the new owners.

I put on my best smile and asked for my parents by name.

The woman looked at me in confusion. "I think you have the wrong address, honey. Mr. Smith owns this house. The family you're looking for sold the place and moved out a long time ago."

...

I don't remember walking back to the street.

When my brain finally booted back online, I was standing on a random sidewalk in the dark, miles away from the house.

My parents were gone.

Julian had vanished off the face of the earth.

I was married to the man who terrified me most in this world.

I had a child. And that child was actively participating in Carter's psychotic mind games.

I was trapped in a flawless, inescapable cage. There was no way forward, and no way back.

The dam broke. I collapsed onto the curb, watching the headlights blur as I sobbed uncontrollably into my hands.

Why? Why was this my life?

My phone buzzed in my pocket.

Carter.

He was the absolute last person on earth I wanted to speak to. I declined it. He called right back. I hit decline again, then powered the phone off entirely.

I wandered aimlessly down the street for ten minutes, drowning in my own head.

A sharp honk pierced the air behind me.

I spun around, startled.

A sleek black sedan idled at the curb. Carter's executive assistant rolled down the window, his face pale and frantic.

"Get in. Noah's been in an accident."

13

An accident.

While driving Noah 'home', Carter's SUV was T-boned by a drunk driver in a pickup truck.

Pure, senseless collateral damage.

My brain didn't have time to process it. Muscle memory took over. I threw myself into the backseat.

The assistant caught my eye in the rearview mirror. His lips parted like he wanted to say something, but he clamped his mouth shut.

The ride to the ER was a terrifying blur.

Noah was my son. Even if he and Carter were gaslighting me, I couldn't lose him. I couldn't let him get hurt.

The second I ran through the sliding glass doors, nurses grabbed me and rushed me to a phlebotomy chair.

Blood transfusion.

Tears streamed down my face. I couldn't even fathom how much blood my tiny five-year-old had lost.

When they finally let me out of the room, Carter was standing in the hallway.

His pristine white dress shirt was absolutely soaked in blood. I couldn't tell if it was his or Noah's.

"Sierra..." His voice cracked. "Noah..."

A tidal wave of white-hot fury hit me.

I don't know where the strength came from, but I lunged at him and slapped him across the face with everything I had.

Smack.

The sound echoed violently down the sterile hospital corridor.

My hand burned. My knees were shaking so badly I could barely stand.

"Are you done playing your sick games, Carter?!" I screamed. "He's your son! Why the hell didn't you give him blood? Why did you wait for them to drag me here?! Do you even have a soul?!"

I grabbed him by the lapels of his ruined shirt. The blood seeped into my palms.

Tears blurred my vision completely.

Then, the ER attending stepped out of the trauma bay, his voice cutting through my hysteria. "Ma'am, we cross-referenced the medical files before you arrived. Mr. Carter is not the boy's biological father."

For a split second, I thought the trauma had given me auditory hallucinations.

"What did you just say?" I whispered. "What do you mean he's not the biological father?"

The doctor pushed his glasses up his nose. He looked back and forth between me and Carter, suddenly realizing he had stepped on a massive landmine. "Uh... it might be a