Chapter 28: A Crack in the Lie

“Yes,” he said. “And if we don’t find out who’s behind her, Eve, this won’t just be about Gabriel. They’ll bury you in court. And in public.”

I gripped the phone tighter, my pulse hammering. Relief warred with dread. Proof existed, yes—but if Emily had powerful backing, this was only the opening move.

Sebastian’s voice softened slightly. “Don’t break now. You’ve got the truth on your side. But we have to be smarter than her. And faster.”

I swallowed hard, my spine straightening even as my heart splintered.

“I’m not breaking,” I said. “Not anymore. Send me everything. I’ll put it in Gabriel’s hands myself.”

I ended the call, staring at the folder, the fake documents, and the web of lies Emily had spun so perfectly.

For the first time in days, a new thought sparked in her mind.

I can win this.

__

Gabriel couldn’t sleep.

The city outside his window pulsed with neon and noise, but in his chest there was only silence. Heavy. Suffocating.

He sat on the edge of the bed, head in his hands, replaying the day like a broken record.

Emily’s voice.

Eve’s defiance.

The folder of papers is now sitting unopened on his desk.

He wanted—God, he wanted—to believe me. Every instinct in him leaned toward me, the way it always had before everything became jagged and strange.

But the doubts gnawed at him.

He couldn’t remember. Not clearly. Every time he reached back into the dark, he pulled up… nothing. A void where his life should be.

And into that void, Emily’s words had poured like poison.

A baby. Your baby. Don’t you remember, Gabriel?

A soft knock pulled him back. He looked up just as the door cracked open.

Emily slipped in. Silk clung to her curves, her hair loose around her shoulders. She carried no folder this time, no sharp words—just herself. Soft, vulnerable, familiar.

At least, that was the mask she wore.

“I couldn’t sleep,” she whispered, stepping closer. “Neither could you, I see.”

Gabriel stiffened. “You shouldn’t be here.”

She tilted her head, smiling faintly. “I should be with you, Gabriel. You know that. We made promises before…” Her hand touched his arm, light as air. “…before the accident.”

The contact sent a jolt through him. Not warmth—confusion. His body remembered something, or thought it did, even as his mind rebelled.

“I don’t remember that,” he said flatly.

Her smile didn’t falter. If anything, it deepened. “Then let me help you remember.”

She leaned in, close enough for her perfume to wrap around him. It was too much. Too calculated.

Gabriel caught her wrist before her lips could brush his cheek. His grip was firm, steady, even as his insides churned.

“Stop,” he said, his voice low, almost dangerous. “Don’t do this.”

For a beat, her eyes flashed—something cold, sharp—but then the mask slid back into place. She sighed, pulling her hand away, pretending to hurt.

“I just thought…” she murmured, stepping back, “maybe if you felt it, you’d remember us. Remember me.”

Gabriel stood, putting space between them. His pulse hammered, his chest tight. He didn’t trust his memory, but he trusted one thing—whatever game Emily was playing, it wasn’t about love.

It was about control.

“Go back to your room,” he said, each word clipped.

She lingered in the doorway, her silhouette sharp against the hall light. Her voice was soft, but it carried steel.

“You can push me away, Gabriel. But the truth always comes back. And when it does…” Her hand drifted to her stomach. “…so will you.”

She left, the click of the door closing like a gunshot.

Gabriel exhaled, his hands trembling. His gaze drifted to the desk, to the folder Emily had dropped like a bomb in their lives.

He didn’t want to open it. He was terrified of what he might find.

But he couldn’t escape the truth forever.

Slowly, he reached for it.

—

I couldn’t sit still.

The apartment was too quiet, too oppressive. Every tick of the clock on the mantelpiece was a countdown, reminding me of the folder sitting just one floor away.

Emily’s folder. Emily’s lies.

If Gabriel opened it before I got to him, if those forged papers and stolen sonograms took root in his fractured mind, I would lose him. Maybe not forever, but long enough for Emily to twist the knife deep.

I grabbed my phone, scrolling through the files Sebastian had just sent. The forged doctor’s signature. The mismatched formatting. The clinic records proving the sonogram belonged to another woman.

Proof. Hard, undeniable proof.

But would Gabriel even listen?

My hands shook as I shoved the phone into my pocket and crossed the hall. Each step was heavy, my pulse pounding in my ears. I wanted to believe my marriage still had a foundation, even cracked and broken as it was. But tonight would prove it.

Either he still trusted my voice.

Or Emily had already won.

I stopped outside his door, my palm hovering over the handle. Through the thin crack, I saw light spilling under the frame. He was awake.

And then I heard it. The sharp shuffle of papers.

My chest seized.

He was reading them.

“No,” she whispered, pushing the door open.

Gabriel sat at the desk, the folder spread out in front of him. The sonogram gleamed on top, a grainy black-and-white image of a child that wasn’t real, wasn’t theirs. His eyes were locked on it, dark and unreadable.

“Gabriel,” I said quickly, stepping inside. “Don’t. Don’t do this.”

He looked up, startled, his face shadowed by lamplight. “Eve—”

I crossed the room, yanking the sonogram out of his hands. “It’s fake. All of it. Sebastian proved it. She stole someone else’s records—”

Gabriel stood abruptly, his chair scraping back. His voice was low, and frayed. “You expect me to take your word for it when she has paperwork? Doctors? A story that doesn’t change?”

“I have proof!” I pulled out my phone, thrusting it toward him. “Real proof, not her theater. Look at it. The records, the signatures—everything is forged. You know me, Gabriel. You know I wouldn’t stand here begging if I wasn’t telling the truth.”

For a long, terrifying moment, he didn’t move. His eyes burnt into mine, stormy, torn.

Then, slowly, he reached for the phone.

My breath trembled as I placed it in his hand.

He scrolled, his brow furrowing deeper with every swipe. The forged signature. The clinic confirmation. The shell company payment. All of it, piece by piece, unravelling Emily’s web.

Finally, he lowered the phone. His face was unreadable, his silence unbearable.

My chest rose and fell, every second stretching like glass. “Say something,” I whispered. “Please.”

His jaw clenched. His eyes flicked to the discarded folder, then back to me.

“If what you’re saying is true,” he said slowly, “then Emily didn’t just lie. She staged everything.”

“Yes,” I said, stepping closer. “She’s been staging it for months. And if you let her, she’ll take everything from us.”

The silence between us was taut, electric. And then

A knock split the air. Sharp. Commanding.

Gabriel stiffened. I froze.

Another knock followed, harder this time.

My blood ran cold. She knew that rhythm. That confidence.

Emily.