chapter 24

Jane sat by her small window, the dim light from the moon casting pale shadows on the walls of her modest room. Sleep was impossible. Her thoughts were tangled in memories—of the past she had buried, the heartbreak she had tried so hard to suppress.

Job.

She had heard Alden mutter that name earlier that day while she was passing by the study. At first, she brushed it off, thinking it must be someone else. But now, the name echoed in her mind like a cruel wind whispering through broken branches.

She clutched her hands tightly in her lap, her knuckles white.Could it be the same Job?The man who once held her face in his hands and swore to love her forever?The man who left and never returned?

That one name reopened wounds she thought had healed with time. She remembered the night he left, how he'd gently pressed her hands against his chest and told her to wait for him. How he promised to come back and marry her. She remembered how her heart had waited, how her body had suffered through pregnancy alone, how her own family betrayed her by taking her babies and giving them away. The cries of her newborn twins still haunted her dreams.

And now—after all these years—hearing that name again, and in this house of all places?

She tried to dismiss it. "It could just be a coincidence," she whispered to herself. "Job is not an uncommon name."

But her heart said otherwise. There was a weight to Alden's voice when he spoke the name. A heaviness that sounded… familiar. Personal.

She covered her face with her hands and took a shaky breath.

Kara.

The girl's name floated into her thoughts unexpectedly. The way Kara had looked at her—those eyes. So sharp, so sad, so… familiar.

She quickly shook her head. "No, Jane. Don't go there."

But she already had.

The possibility she had tried so hard to ignore was clawing at the edges of her sanity.

Could it be? Could Alden be Job?Could Kara and her brother… be her children?

Her breathing quickened. Her heart thundered in her chest. It was all too impossible to believe. And yet… what if?

She felt the weight of twenty years of sorrow press down on her chest. If Alden was indeed Job… then why did he never come for her? Why didn't he search for her the way she searched for him? For them?

Was it all a lie?

She rose to her feet slowly, her legs unsteady beneath her. She walked to the mirror and stared into her own eyes, searching for answers she didn't have. Her lips trembled as she whispered, "What happened to us, Job? What did you do with our babies?"

In that same moment, across the house, Alden stood by his window, glass in hand, staring into the dark sky. His fingers gripped the rim of the glass as that name—Jane—resurfaced in his mind once again. His expression twisted in pain.

Jane froze.

Her hand trembled above the drawer, fingers barely brushing the soft, faded fabric. Her heart stuttered in her chest. For a moment, she forgot to breathe.

It was old—worn with time, frayed slightly at the edges—but unmistakably hers.A small embroidered piece of cloth, the stitching crooked and uneven in some places, the colors slightly faded. She had made it herself, sitting quietly under a tree at the back of the ancestral home, hoping—praying—for a life of peace with her unborn twins. The tiny design—a red tulip blooming beside a blue one—had been her symbol of hope for her daughter and son.

And there it was.

Lying gently in the drawer of Kara's brother's room.

Her knees buckled and she sat on the edge of the bed, clutching the embroidery to her chest. Her vision blurred with tears. This can't be a coincidence. She had only ever made one piece like this.

And she had wrapped it around her baby girl the day they took her away.

Jane's thoughts raced.Does this mean… could it be?Had fate truly brought her to the place where her children lived?

She ran her fingers over the stitches, remembering every moment of the pain, the labor, the fear—and the tiny squirming infants she had clung to for hours before they were taken from her arms. She had begged to keep them, but her family's judgment had been final. She hadn't even had the chance to name them properly.

She swallowed a sob, rising slowly. Her mind was spinning. She needed answers—but not recklessly. If this was truly the sign she thought it was, then the truth had been hidden in this house all along. Could Kara be…?

Her heart ached at the thought. No wonder she had felt something—a pull—every time she looked at the girl. The anger, the eyes, the pain. It was too strong to be dismissed as a stranger's suffering.

She quietly placed the embroidery back in the drawer, exactly where she found it. She didn't want to alarm anyone yet—not until she knew everything.

But now, she was certain of one thing.

She hadn't been chasing a dream all these years.Her children were real. They were alive.