Logan POV
I took a deep breath; I stood there, my mouth agape, as I processed everything Isabelle had just revealed.
And then it clicks – she’s Isabelle Haines, the one person who can shed light on the mysterious picture that’s been driving me crazy.
I thought I was closing in on the truth, but now I realize that Isabelle, the woman I confronted and accused, wasn’t responsible for sending that picture.
My mind races as I try to piece together the puzzle. If Isabelle wasn’t the one who sent the picture, then who was? Who’s behind the sinister plot to drive a wedge between us?
Just when I thought I had the answer to my question, a new one emerged, leaving me more determined than ever to uncover the truth.
Shocking memories come flooding back as I recall the online scandal involving Isabelle’s picture with a billionaire – whose name still eludes me.
I had taken credit for the leak, assuming it was just a careless mistake. But now, I realize that Nathalie’s names were dragged into the infidelity scandal.
A chilling thought creeps in – what if it was a deliberate plan to bring Isabelle down?
And what if the mastermind behind it didn’t know that there were multiple people with the same face?
As I watch, Asher slowly helps Isabelle to her feet, with a look of indifference. I can sense the tension between them.
I’m sure Asher is still seething about Isabelle leaving Lyvia on his doorstep, but I won’t blame him for that. Nor will I blame Isabelle, who did what she thought was right to protect her daughter.
But now, as I look at Isabelle standing in my living room, I realize I need to ask the question. “So, why are you here?” I ask my voice firm but controlled.
Isabelle turns to me, her expression grave. “I’m here to warn you,” she says, in a firm voice.
“Warn me?” I repeat, surprised that she hasn’t come to warn Asher instead. “Why me?”
Isabelle takes a seat on the couch, confidently and unapologetically.
“Your wife, Nadine, is in danger. She’s involved with a very dangerous group of people who will stop at nothing to ruin her. They’re biding their time, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. And when they do, they’ll take everything she’s worked for.”
I’m stunned, lost for words. How does Isabelle know so much about Nadine’s life?
“Who is she in bed with?” I demand, my mind racing.
Isabelle’s response is matter-of-fact, devoid of any emotion.
“The Blake family,” she says, as if their name alone should explain everything.
My mind reels as I process this information. The Blake family? I know them, of course.
They’re a powerful and ruthless clan, known for their cunning and ambition. If Nadine is indeed involved with them, she’s in grave danger.
And I need to act fast to protect her. But how can I approach her with this warning?
I’m still reeling from the revelation, and I barely know Isabelle, so how can I trust her word? What if this is just another one of her schemes?
I can’t just barge in and tell Nadine that her life is in danger, that the Blake family is out to get her. She’s grown close to them, they took her in when she was alone in Canada… She trusts them.
“Why are they after Nadine?” I press on, my mind racing with questions. “What does she have to do with their vendetta against you?”
Isabelle’s eyes cloud over, and she takes a deep breath before speaking.
“They’re after Nadine because of me. Because of what I did.”
“What did you do?” I ask, sensing a dark secret lurking beneath the surface.
Isabelle’s voice cracks.
“I was involved in a car accident… a terrible accident. Their son was with me, and he died. I didn’t mean for it to happen, but… he wanted to come with me, and I couldn’t resist his pleading face. I gave in, and it cost him his life.”
My heart goes out to her, but I sense there’s more to the story.
“I recovered from the accident, but when I found out their son had died, I knew I had to run. The Blakes are ruthless, and they wouldn’t stop until they made me pay. So, I escaped from the hospital and went into hiding.”
The pieces aren’t quite fitting together yet.
“I knew I couldn’t hide forever,” Isabelle continues.
“Sydney, the Blakes’ daughter, was relentless in her pursuit of me. I was constantly on the run until I met Asher.”
She pauses, collecting her thoughts.
“Then, I got pregnant. But even that didn’t stop the Blakes. They found me, and I knew I had to protect my baby at all costs. They threatened to take her away from me, to kill her, just so I could feel the same pain they felt when their son died.”
Isabelle’s eyes well up with tears as she recounts the agonizing decision she made.
“I couldn’t bear the thought of losing my child. So, I made the toughest decision of my life I gave her up. I found Asher and left Livia on his doorstep, knowing it was the only way to keep her safe.”
“It’s all about mistaken identity,” Isabelle explains. The Blakes think Nadine is me, and that she’s suffering from amnesia due to the accident. They believe she’s forgotten her past, including her involvement with them.”
I nod, starting to understand the twisted scenario.
“Wow, I exclaim, as I can’t begin to fathom the reason for their cruel act. If they wanted to kill Isabelle’s daughter because of the accident that happened with their son, one thing is clear: my boy is in grave danger.
But who are your parents? Why are you not related to the Wittes, despite having the same face as the other sisters?”
Isabelle’s expression turns somber, and she takes a deep breath before revealing a shocking truth.
“I’m not a Witte by blood,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m the result of a secret government experiment, where scientists created me as a singular test subject, using advanced technology to alter my DNA and make me appear identical to the Witte sisters.?”
“Nadine’s mom, Mrs. Witte, believes we’re triplets, identical sisters born from the same womb. But the truth is far from it.
Mr. Witte knows the dark secret. He’s been hiding it from his wife. I’m a singular experiment, created to test the limits of human identity.
I glance at Asher, and with a deep breath, I slowly sink into the couch, my mind racing.
First things first, I need to identify the mysterious sender of the picture on my phone.
I recall reaching out to Smith earlier, but I never followed up to get his feedback. I quickly dialed his number, and on the third ring, he answered Smith.
“Do you remember the last job I sent you? Any leads on it?”
“Hello, Mr. West,” he replies. “I sent the information to you by mail.”
I frown in confusion. “My mail? I didn’t receive anything.”
“Check your spam message,” Smith advises.
“Okay, thanks, Smith,” I reply, and I quickly end the call. I hastily log in to my email account and navigate to the spam folder.
As I open the message, I’m shocked by what I see. My eyes widen in disbelief as I take in the contents of the email.