Three days later, the hospital discharged Ayla under strict observation.
The sun was unusually bright as she stepped outside, a soft breeze tugging at her hair. Cameras flashed instantly. Reporters swarmed like vultures, their mics shoved forward, voices overlapping.
"Is it true your real name is Ayla?"
"Were you pretending all this time?"
"Who are your real parents—?"
Damien wrapped a protective arm around her shoulders and shielded her as security escorted them to the car. Elise and Jean walked closely behind, keeping their expressions unreadable. Viper and Kalen flanked the rear, looking less like family and more like a private military escort.
But it was Leon the cameras screamed for most.
He stepped out minutes later, guiding Maureen into another car, her arm still bandaged, her face made up but pale. He didn't flinch when the reporters yelled his name. Didn't answer when someone shouted, "Leon, is she really your girlfriend now?!"
He only looked once—across the parking lot.
At Ayla.
She met his eyes for a moment, an ache lingering somewhere deep behind her calm. And then she looked away, leaning into Damien's steady hold.
The lines were drawn.
Back at the estate, the rooms felt too large.
Elise tried to mask her worry with excessive meals and soft music. Jean stayed on calls. Kalen paced. Viper remained mostly silent.
And Ayla?
She scrolled through articles that morning — headlines twisting her truth into gossip.
"Imposter Turns Heir: Celeste Revealed as Ayla!"
"Love Triangle Explodes: Leon Dumps Heiress, Turns to Shot Nurse?"
"Viper's Daughter Discovered — But She Picks Another Man?"
She laughed dryly. "They make it sound like a soap opera."
"You're not upset?" Damien asked.
"Oh, I am," she replied softly. "But I knew this would happen the moment I remembered."
He reached out and took her hand. "You're not alone in it."
She squeezed back.
"I know."
Meanwhile, in another wing of the estate, Maureen lounged on silk sheets with bandages still on. Leon sat on the balcony, a drink untouched in his hand.
She smiled at his silence.
"You don't regret saying yes to me… do you?"
Leon didn't answer right away.
"No," he finally said. "I said I'd acknowledge you. And I will."
Maureen turned her face toward the window, watching the reporters still parked at the gate. Her reflection smirked back at her in the glass.
She had won something.
Even if it was built on scars.