Adam sat at Ava's bedside, fingers loosely entwined with hers. The steady beep of the monitors filled the sterile hospital room like a metronome counting the days he'd been waiting. He kept scanning her face, searching for the tiniest flutter, a blink, a sigh, anything.
"Ava," he whispered, voice ragged, raw. "I'm not tired of waiting. But I'm tired of living in a world without you. Please… wake up."
The door eased open. Daphne stepped in, her heels quiet against the linoleum. She crossed the room and dropped into the chair beside him, folding him in.
"How are you holding up?" she asked, worry carved into every line of her face.
Adam pulled back, eyes ringed dark. "I'm not fine, Mom. I need Ava. I need her back." The words landed like they always did — steady and terrible.
"Adam," Daphne began, gentle as she could be, "I want what's best for Ava. But I also want what's best for you—"
"I can't move on without her," he snapped, cutting her off. He shoved his chair back as if distance could change his grief, and stormed from the room. Daphne watched him go, a prayer slipping from her lips before she followed in softer steps.
* * * * * *
At Dawn's apartment a different kind of desperation echoed through the hallway: knuckles pounding on wood.
"Leslie, Jason, please, just listen to me!" Dawn begged, the wood under her palm growing warm from her breath. Silence answered. When nothing moved, she sagged down against the door, the tears finally coming, hot and unrelenting.
A minute later the door cracked. Leslie's face was a hard line. Dawn scrambled up.
"Leslie, please, let me explain..." she began.
Leslie brushed past, and Dawn hurried after her. She grabbed Leslie's wrist.
"Listen to me, Leslie!"
Leslie yanked free, eyes flashing. "What do you want? Aren't you tired of lying to us? Tell me; is Amy even your sister?"
Dawn swallowed. "Of course she is. You all are my siblings. None of you were adopted. Peige is lying. She's trying to destroy us."
"Then how do you explain the DNA results?" Leslie shot back, arms folded like a shield.
"I don't know. I don't know how she pulled it off but it's a lie," Dawn pleaded.
Leslie's voice dropped, steady and sharp. "Then be honest. Where did you get all this wealth from?"
"I'm working," Dawn said too quickly.
"What kind of job?" Leslie pressed.
Dawn faltered. The silence widened like a crack.
"See?" Leslie's eyes shone with hurt. "You're not honest with me. You cared for us, you acted like our mother, but mothers don't keep their children in the dark."
"I know and I'm sorry for lying."
"You don't have to sell yourself to take care of us....
The words landed like a slap. Dawn's blood burned; her hand moved before thought. Her palm connected with Leslie's cheek.
"I will never sell my dignity for money," she hissed, teeth clenched. She tasted regret the moment she finished.
"Leslie, I'm sorry," Dawn tried, but Leslie had already fled, tears streaking her face. Dawn sank onto the couch, hands over her face, the apartment closing in.
* * * * * *
Down at Peige's mansion the atmosphere was easy, a grotesque contrast: laughter, television glow, the clink of crystal. Peige lounged like a queen with a wine glass in hand.
Tara blocked the view, eyes stormy. "I need answers," she said.
"I know you're pretty, baby, but I'm watching the movie—not your face," Peige said with a smirk.
Tara snatched the remote and shut off the screen. "I said I need answers."
Peige rolled her eyes. "That's rude." She shrugged and swept past.
Tara's frustration flared. Her father wouldn't tell her everything; her mother hinted and deflected. She stood there, breath hot, hands gripping a curtain until the fabric wrinkled.
* * * * * *
Back at Dawn's, she set the table mechanically, smile pasted on, voice steady when she called, "Amy, come eat."
Amy walked in as she scanned the dining.
"Where are the others?" Amy asked, looking like a ten year old at the big table.
"They'll come," Dawn lied for the hundredth time that week. She checked the twins' doors: Jason's cracked open; Leslie's stayed stubbornly shut. She climbed onto Jason's bed and tried to steady him.
"Jason, listen. You're my brother. Peige is lying."
He looked at her with tired eyes. "We used to joke about it, and now it's true. When were you planning on telling us?"
"Never; because it's not true. You weren't adopted."
"Stop lying!" he snapped; the old, familiar pain rose up between them. Dawn suggested a DNA test — a real one, official, but he turned away. "Food's ready," she muttered and left, fingers numb.
Leslie's room was empty. Her stomach punched cold. Dawn called Alex; no answer. Panic bloomed.
* * * * * *
Dawn ran to the Manchesters' and Daphne opened the door, breathless. "She's with me," Daphne said quietly, steadier than Dawn felt.
Relief crashed through Dawn, then curdled into anger. She marched inside toward Leslie.
"Why would you leave without telling me? Do you know how worried I was?" she demanded, voice raw.
Leslie's silence said more than any defense. Dawn's anger folded into confession.
"Fine," she spat. "You want the truth? Here it is. Mrs. Manchester hired me to make her son happy because his wife has been in a coma for a year." The room held the words like a stone.
Leslie stared, confusion and shame mixing on her face. Daphne gave a small, almost apologetic nod.
Tears broke free down Leslie's cheeks. She hugged Dawn so tightly it seemed like an apology and a plea all at once.
Dawn let the embrace hold her for a second, breathing in frantic. When she stepped back she looked at Daphne, voice low, ice in the edges.
"Thank you," she said. "But I need your help."
"With what?" Daphne asked.
"I want revenge," Dawn said, and the mouth of her smile was cold. "On the one who's been my biggest obstacle."
"Who?" Daphne asked, wary.
"Peige," Dawn answered. "And I know exactly how to make her pay."