Silence lingered like a fog.
The soft hum of machines filled the room, a quiet, constant reminder that she was still there — still breathing, still fighting. But every eye in that room was focused elsewhere now… on the door.
It opened.
Dr. Legrand stepped in, a crisp envelope in his hand. No one needed to ask what it was.
The air shifted.
Elise straightened from the chair beside the bed, her face pale but composed. Jean rose from the wall, arms folded tightly. Leon was already on his feet, jaw set.
Kalen didn't move.
Viper did — just a small step forward. Enough to say he was ready.
Dr. Legrand cleared his throat, the weight of every gaze pressing down on him.
"The DNA result has arrived," he said, voice professional, but low. "I double-checked it myself. There's no mistake."
He opened the envelope and pulled out the page slowly, like it might burn.
"The patient known as Celeste Leclair…" — he glanced at Elise and Jean briefly — "is not your biological daughter."
Elise exhaled shakily, her hand flying to her mouth. Jean remained still, but his eyes closed for a heartbeat.
"She is—" Dr. Legrand turned his gaze to Viper and Kalen "—genetically confirmed to be Ayla Monroe. Your daughter. Your sister."
The words dropped like thunder.
Kalen let out a choked breath. "I knew it. I told you— I knew it."
Elise turned slowly to face Viper, the man who had always stood so far from their world. Their eyes met — not in anger, but in quiet, overwhelmed recognition.
Viper said nothing. He only moved closer to Ayla's bedside. Gently. Carefully. He looked at her like someone afraid the truth might slip away if he blinked.
Leon, across the room, didn't say a word. His chest rose and fell slowly, eyes locked on the girl in the bed.
She was Ayla.
His Ayla.
Damien stepped forward from where he'd been leaning against the wall, arms crossed, unreadable. His gaze flicked to Leon. "You got what you wanted," he said quietly. "So what now?"
No one answered.
Not yet.
Because in the center of it all — unaware of the storm her truth had stirred — Ayla lay still. Her chest rising with every breath. A heartbeat, a thread of life, holding them all together.