Adele's POV
"I don't know why you keep insisting I'm your wife," I said, forcing each word past the tightness in my chest. "Does she look like me? Maybe I resemble her—wolves say many humans share the same bones, the same eyes, a similar scent event—but that doesn't make me her. I'm Fleur Swann. You need to accept that."
I held his gaze, refusing to be the first to look away.
Caden Wayne stood before me like a storm trapped in flesh—tall, unyielding, his presence pressing against my senses until my wolf curled in on itself, confused and frightened. His eyes searched my face with a desperation that made my pulse stumble, as though he were trying to peel my skin away to reveal the truth beneath.
Disbelief carved itself into his features.
To him, I was a mirror of the woman he had lost. No—more than that. I was her. Every breath I took, every flicker of emotion in my eyes betrayed me. And yet he refused my words, as though language itself were too fragile to stand against instinct.
His heart knew me. Remembered me.
I saw it in the way his chest rose unevenly, in the way his wolf stirred beneath the surface, restless and raw. When he had kissed me earlier, our heartbeats had aligned—mine racing, his thunderous and sure. His body, long starved of warmth and connection, had reacted instantly to my nearness, responding with an urgency that only a true mate could awaken.
Nothing about this made sense.
"How could you be anyone else?" his silence seemed to demand.
"Adele," he whispered hoarsely, the name falling from his lips like a prayer. Before I could retreat, his hand closed around my wrist, tugging me into his arms with a force that spoke not of cruelty, but of fear—fear of losing me again.
"Don't be so merciless to your mate," he murmured, his voice breaking. "Not after I've found you."
I struggled, twisting and pushing against him, but his hold was unrelenting, as if he meant to anchor me to this moment forever.
"Please," I said, panic bleeding into my voice despite my resolve. "Mr. Wayne, let me go. My family will be waiting for me."
The word family struck him like a lightning bolt.
His body stilled.
For the first time, doubt cracked through the certainty in his eyes. His Adele—his true mate—had been alone in the world, bound only to him. No parents. No siblings. No one else to wait for her.
Slowly, his grip loosened.
Cold returned to his gaze, the Alpha mask sliding back into place as disappointment settled deep in his bones.
He stepped away from me.
I exhaled shakily, my knees threatening to give out—not because of him, but because of what waited beyond these walls. My children. My twins. They would have noticed my absence by now. They would be afraid. And if the authorities were brought in… if questions were asked… everything I had built could unravel.
"I'll let you go," Caden said at last, his voice sharp with restraint, "on one condition."
Hope flared painfully in my chest. "What is it?"
"You will personally design my new residence in Paris."
The words stunned me.
Working for him was dangerous—walking straight into the territory of the Alpha who once owned my soul. But refusal would only provoke suspicion. If I pushed too hard, he would dig deeper. And I could not afford that.
After a long pause, I nodded. "Alright. I'll do it."
"Good," he replied coolly. "I'll have you escorted home."
"No," I said quickly, shaking my head. "That won't be necessary."
I could not let him see where I lived. Could not let him find my children.
"I can manage," I added. "Thank you for the hospital care. I'll reimburse the expenses."
His gaze lingered on me, burning and unreadable. "Consider it compensation—for what my people did."
The weight of his attention was suffocating. I turned before my resolve could crack and hurried toward the exit.
He didn't stop me.
As I reached the hospital doors, I nearly collided with Syrus.
His eyes widened in shock, his face draining of color as though he'd seen a ghost rise from the grave. He stared at me—at my face—with open disbelief.
I schooled my expression into indifference, walking past him as if we had never met.
Minutes later, I was in a cab, heart hammering as the city swallowed me whole.
Caden's POV
"She's alive," Syrus gasped, rushing toward me. "Caden—she's Adele. She's alive."
"No," I said flatly, turning away. "She's not."
"She is," he insisted. "My eyes aren't lying to me."
I stopped abruptly, forcing him to halt before crashing into me.
"She is Fleur Swann," I said coldly. "An interior designer. And she is not my mate."
I slid my sunglasses on, hiding the storm in my eyes.
"What brings you here?" I asked.
"Sylvia called," Syrus said carefully. "She wants Carrie released. She's afraid of what she'll have to answer to her sister if something happens to her."
For a moment, I said nothing.
Then, "Release her."
Syrus nodded, still watching me as though the truth were standing right in front of us both.
As I climbed into the car, my wolf paced restlessly, howling beneath my ribs.
"Find everything," I ordered, my voice low and lethal. "Every detail."
"On whom?" my driver asked.
I stared out the window, the echo of her scent still clinging to me like a wound that refused to close.
"Fleur Swann."