Dominic's POV
I'm going to be sick.
My hands shake so badly I have to grip the hospital bed railing to stay standing. Eva. The woman in this bed just claimed to be Eva. My Eva. The one who died three months ago in Barcelona.
"This isn't possible," I say again. But even as the words leave my mouth, my mind is running through everything I've noticed since I walked into this room.
The way she holds Lily—gentle, natural, like she was born to be a mother. Celeste was afraid of pregnancy. Refused to go to parenting classes. But this woman cuddles my daughter like she's valuable treasure.
The way she said my name. Dominic. Soft. Almost loving. Celeste never said my name that way. Our marriage is ice-cold. A business deal. She gets money and position. I get the heir my father requested before he dies.
But that look in her eyes when I walked in...
It reminded me of Eva.
"I know you think I'm crazy," she says. Her voice shakes. "I know this sounds impossible. But Dominic, please. You have to believe me."
"Believe what?" My voice comes out rough. Angry. "That my dead ex-girlfriend somehow woke up inside my wife's body? That's not science. That's not real. That's—"
"Insane. I know." She wipes tears from her face. Celeste never cries. Not real tears anyway. "But you noticed, didn't you? You said it yourself. I'm different. I'm not acting like Celeste."
She's right. And that scares me more than anything.
My phone buzzes in my pocket. Once. Twice. Three times. I want to ignore it, but the buzzing won't stop.
With shaking hands, I pull it out.
Unknown number.
My blood goes cold as I read the first message: "We know what happened in that hospital room. We know about the move. And if you don't want the whole world to know that Celeste Thornfield is actually a dead woman walking, you'll do exactly what we say."
"What is it?" Eva—or whoever she is—leans forward. "Dominic, what's wrong?"
Another message comes through. This time it's a picture.
I stare at the screen. My brain refuses to understand what I'm seeing.
It's Eva. The real Eva. My Eva. With her brown hair and warm smile. But she's lying in a hospital bed, eyes closed, tubes and wires joining her to machines.
"That's me," the woman in front of me whispers. She's looking at my phone screen, her face white as paper. "That's my real body. But how—you said I died three months ago."
"You did." My voice sounds far away. "The Spanish officials called me. They said you died on impact. That there was nothing they could do."
"Then who's been keeping me alive?"
The question hangs in the air like poison.
Another message appears: "She's not as dead as everyone thinks. And neither is the story of what really happened the night she crashed. Come to Pier 17 at midnight. Alone. Or we pull the plug on Eva Hart's body—and reveal your wife's little secret to the world."
Jenny, the nurse, gasps. "Someone's been hiding her real body? For three months?"
My mind runs. If Eva's body is still living somewhere, then maybe—just maybe—this impossible story is true. But that means someone knows. Someone has been keeping Eva's body hidden and living for three months. Someone who planned all of this.
"The camera," I say quickly. "The secret camera you found. Someone's been watching this room. Watching you."
"Watching to see if the switch worked," Eva says slowly. Her face is pale. "Someone did this on purpose. Someone put me in Celeste's body."
"But why?" Jenny asks. "Who would do that? And how?"
I look at the woman in the hospital bed. Really look at her. Past Celeste's face. Past the impossible story. And I see something that makes my chest ache.
I see Eva.
The way she tilts her head when she's thinking. The way she bites her bottom lip when she's scared. The way she looks at me—like I'm the only person in the world who matters.
"Prove it," I say quietly. "Tell me something only Eva would know. Something that was never in the papers or online."
She takes a shaky breath. "The night before I left for Spain, we had a fight. You wanted me to stay. I wanted to chase my job. We both said bad things. But after I slammed the door and left, I sat in the stairs for an hour. I heard you crying through the door. And I almost came back. I had my hand on the doorknob three different times. But I didn't. I was too scared. Too proud."
My throat closes. No one knew that. Not the media. Not my friends. No one.
"I listened to you cry," she continues, tears running down her face, "and I told myself I was doing the right thing. That I was picking my dreams over a relationship that would trap me. But the truth is, I was just a wimp. I was scared of how much I loved you. Scared that if I stayed, I'd lose myself. So I destroyed us instead."
The room is spinning. This can't be real. It's impossible.
But I believe her.
God help me, I believe her.
"Eva," I whisper.
She smiles through her tears. That smile. I'd know it anywhere, even on a stranger's face.
My phone buzzes again. Another message: "Tick tock, Dominic. Midnight at Pier 17. And come alone. If we see anyone else—police, security, anyone—Eva Hart's body dies. And so does your little secret."
Then another photo emerges. This one makes my heart stop.
It's my father. Marcus Thornfield. Sitting in a chair beside Eva's hospital bed. The real Eva's bed. In the picture, he's smiling. And he's holding a piece of paper with today's date written on it.
The message below reads: "Your father knows everything. In fact, he's the one who planned the whole thing. Ask him about Project Second Chance. Ask him what he was willing to do to give his son a second shot at happiness. Ask him who he made a deal with to bring Eva back from the dead." My world tilts sideways.
My father? My dying father planned this? But how? And why? "Dominic?" Eva touches my arm. "What is it? What do the messages say?"
I can't move. Can't breathe. Can't think.
My father brought Eva back. Somehow, impossible, he found a way to put her soul into Celeste's body. But that means he knew Celeste was going to die during childbirth. That means he knew—or caused—Celeste's death.
My father killed my wife to bring back the woman I love.
Another message: "See you at midnight. Oh, and Dominic? Your father's cancer isn't normal either. Someone's been poisoning him for months. Someone who wanted him out of the way. Someone who's been planning this for a very long time. Come alone if you want information. Bring anyone else, and everyone dies."
I look up at Eva. At Jenny. At baby Lily sleeping peacefully in her cot.
Someone planned all of this. My father's sickness. Celeste's death. Eva's car crash. Her impossible comeback.
And now they're demanding I meet them alone at midnight, or Eva's real body dies.
But here's the thing that terrifies me most: if Eva's mind is in Celeste's body, and her real body is still alive somewhere... what happens if someone unplugs her original body?
Does she die? Does she stay in Celeste's body forever? Or does she just disappear completely?
"I have to go," I say, grabbing my coat.
"Where?" Eva stands up too fast. The machines beep wildly. "Dominic, what's happening?"
"I need to see my father. Right now." I head for the door.
"Wait!" She grabs my arm. "Those messages—they're frightening me. My real body. Let me come with you."
"No." I pull away. "You stay here with Lily. Lock the door. Don't let anyone in except hospital staff you know."
"Dominic—" "Please." I look back at her one last time. "If this is real—if you're really Eva—then I can't lose you again. Stay here. Stay safe. I'll figure this out."
I leave before she can argue.
But as I race down the hospital hallway toward the parking area, my phone buzzes one last time.
It's a video this time. Security video from the hospital three months ago. The night Celeste went into labor.
In the video, I watch my father enter Celeste's hospital room. He's holding a small black bag. He looks around to make sure no one's watching. Then he injects something into Celeste's IV.
The timestamp shows it's exactly one hour before Celeste flatlined during birth.
My father didn't just plan for Eva to come back.
He killed Celeste to make it happen.