His jaw tightened. But instead of anger, he gave her a tired, patient smile that never reached his eyes.
“Elena only wants what’s best for them.”
Perfect fiancée. Perfect socialite. Beloved by everyone.
“But I saw—”
“Amara,” he interrupted gently, “you’re exhausted. You care deeply, but you’re misreading things.”
She felt erased.
That night, rocking Gabriel as his fingers clung to her like a lifeline, helplessness clawed at her ribs. No matter what she said, no one believed the girl from nowhere.
And then Leo collapsed in her arms.
One moment he was fussing. The next, his body went rigid, eyes rolling back, breath stuttering as if fighting invisible hands.
Panic roared.
She smelled the bottle—chemical, bitter. The same scent as the unlabeled vial.
Someone was poisoning them.
Amara dumped the bottle, made fresh formula from a sealed container, and waited. Slowly, Leo’s breathing steadied. His fingers curled against her shirt, choosing life again.
She didn’t sleep.
By morning, she was ready to tell Alejandro everything—until he entered the nursery with Elena and a doctor she’d never met.