Chapter 128
Jace had barely taken two steps after Morgan left the living room when Noah’s voice cut through the air behind him.
“What is going on between you two?” Noah asked, arms folded, brows pulled down in suspicion.
Jace froze. His stomach tightened painfully, and a prickling wave of anxiety crawled up the back of his neck. He turned around slowly, keeping his breathing steady even though nothing inside him felt steady at all.
“It is nothing,” Jace said. “Really, Noah. It is nothing.”
Noah lifted a brow. “Jace… come on. I am not blind. I saw the tension—”
But before he could finish, Jace’s phone buzzed.
One message.
Unknown number.
His heart stuttered.
Jace did not even know why his hand shook as he unlocked the screen. The moment he read the message…. everything inside him dropped.
“Aiden is in your house. He is disguised as Morgan.”
His breath left him.
His vision narrowed.
A cold, clawing panic wrapped around his ribs like invisible hands pressing hard.
Noah noticed. “Jace? What is it?”
Jace’s lips parted, but no sound came. For a heartbeat he simply stood there, frozen, the message burning in his hand like an open flame.
Then instinct slammed into him.
“Mila.”
The name tore out of him as he spun toward the hallway.
Noah followed immediately. “Jace...what is going on? Talk to me!”
But Jace could not talk. He could not even think. His mind was already racing up the stairs, breaking past every fear, every question, every thought except one
Get to Mila.....Now.
He rushed down the hall, almost tripping over his own feet as he reached his daughter’s door. He pushed it open with more force than intended.
And Mila’s soft giggle filled the room.
Morgan, sat cross-legged on the floor beside her dollhouse, helping Mila rearrange it's tiny furniture. He looked up immediately at the door slamming open.
Confusion flickered across his face. “Jace? Is everything alright?”
Jace’s lungs squeezed painfully.
He did not answer. He moved straight to Mila, scooping her up quickly into his arms.
Mila blinked at him. “Daddy? What is wrong?”
He swallowed hard. “It is okay, baby. Everything is fine.”
Noah came in behind him, reading his panic like an open book. He stepped forward, voice low, “Give her to me.”
Jace hesitated only a second before transferring Mila into Noah’s arms. Noah held her protectively, confusion still all over his face.
That was when the security team arrived, three men armed and alert, responding instantly to Jace’s urgent call minutes earlier.
“Sir?” one of them asked. “You called for emergency lockdown?”
Jace pointed at Morgan. “Handcuff him...Now.”
Morgan’s eyes widened. “What? Jace....what the hell is going on?”
He stood, hands raised instinctively, shock flickering into hurt.
“Don’t make this harder,” Jace said, his voice low, rough, full of something dark and desperate. “Just...just do it.”
The security guards moved fast, grabbing Morgan’s wrists and snapping the cuffs on before he could protest.
Mila started crying.
Noah hugged her closer.
Morgan stared at Jace like Jace had stabbed him in the chest. “I did not do anything. Jace, what the hell is this?!”
Jace forced himself to look away.
Noah’s voice came sharp. “Jace...... please explain.... what is happening.”
But before he could, Jace turned to one of the guards. “Bring Mo from the kitchen. Now.”
The guard nodded and rushed off.
Noah watched everything with disbelieving eyes, his arms wrapped tight around Mila as if ready to bolt at the smallest threat.
Moments later, Mo was brought in, confused, hands raised in frustration.
“What is happening?” Mo demanded. “Jace, are we being robbed? Arrested? Kidnapped? I was making pancakes and suddenly I am being dragged—”
“Just stay quiet,” Jace said, voice strained. “Both of you.”
Mo and Morgan exchanged confused glances, both equally terrified and equally clueless.
The room felt too small and too tight, crowded with fear.
Jace’s head throbbed.
The message repeated itself in his mind over and over like a broken warning alarm...
Aiden is in your house and disguised as Morgan.
He looked from Morgan… to Mo… to Morgan again.
He had two Morgans in his life now. Two complete strangers with the same name.
And one of them....was trying to kill him.
His skin crawled.
His chest burned.
Noah set Mila down gently, whispering to her to go to her daddy's room. She shook her head, scared, clinging to him.
“Noah,” Jace breathed. “Just… please. Take her.”
Reluctantly, Noah lifted the little girl into his arms again and stepped away, staying near the doorway—close enough to protect Mila, far enough not to be in the immediate chaos.
Finally, the sound of police sirens approached from outside.
Jace exhaled shakily.
He needed them.
He needed someone, who was not falling apart inside as much as he was.
Two officers stepped into the hall, their faces calm but alert. Jace met them halfway and handed one his phone with the message displayed.
“I received this,” Jace said. “A warning. I don’t know from who.”
The officer read the message, and his expression hardened.
“You did the right thing calling us,” the older officer said. “Where are the two Morgans?”
Jace pointed toward the living room.
The officers stepped inside.
Morgan, still handcuffed, looked up with pure frustration and disbelief. Mo, standing beside him with two guards, with her hands still up.
“Finally,” Mo said. “Can someone tell me why I am being treated like a criminal?”
The police did not answer her.
The older officer stepped forward, expression grave, gaze sharp.
He looked between Mo and Morgan with unnerving intensity.
“We received an anonymous message,” the officer said, slowly, clearly and firmly, “stating that one of you… is Aiden.”
Silence fell and both Mo and Morgan froze.
Their breaths stilled.
Their faces drained of colour.
“So,” the officer continued, eyes moving back and forth between them,
“which one of you is Aiden?”
Neither answered.
Neither blinked.
Neither even breathed too loudly.
Jace felt his skin prickle, a cold sweat gathering along his spine as he looked at the two people who had been living in his home, walking freely through his halls, speaking to his daughter, cooking in his kitchen.
One of them.
One of them wanted him dead.
“Speak,” the second officer demanded.