Liana stood in the clinic's storage room long after Alexander had gone upstairs for the night.
The photo still rested between two textbooks where she had hidden it years ago—tattered edges, sun-faded. Her fingers brushed over the faces in it. She recognized her own immediately, even in childhood. But it was the boy next to her who made her pulse race.Same eyes. Same smile, slightly crooked. Same scar on the chin from a childhood fall.
She whispered, "No way."
Her father had taken this photo. It was during one of her many hospital stays as a child. The boy had been visiting a sick relative and had wandered into the pediatric ward. They played for a single afternoon. He brought her juice and paper cranes. He told her, "You'll grow up and fix people. I'll grow up and fix everything else."
She had forgotten that day.
Until now.
Could it really be him?
Alexander Wolfe—that Alexander Wolfe—was the boy with the paper cranes?
But why hadn't he recognized her?
Unless… he had forgotten too.
The next morning, before dawn crept in, Liana slipped out of the clinic and took the long road into the next town. At a quiet library with no cameras and no digital trail, she pulled medical records—her own.
Childhood admissions. Emergency surgeries. Therapy notes. And one file marked: Wolfe Foundation Pediatric Outreach Visit – July 1999.
There it was:
Alexander Wolfe, age 9, son of Charles Wolfe. Visiting ward with Westbridge Philanthropy Tour.
Her heart thudded. Not only was it him, but he had been watching even back then—trying to understand the world he was destined to control.
He wasn't just her childhood memory.
He was part of her origin story.
Meanwhile, in the heart of Wolfe Industries, Julian Crane stood before a steel vault in his private office. No assistants. No surveillance.
He opened a drawer labeled "Westbridge – Sealed Archives."
Inside were old documents. Photos. Legal threats. Payout records. And a file marked with one name in red ink:
Liana Reyes.
Julian's lips curled.
He had spent years ensuring her silence. She had been the only one with the nerve to speak. But she had vanished… until now.
"She's back," he muttered. "And she's with him."
A ping on his phone pulled him back. A facial recognition alert.
Liana Reyes – flagged match in rural clinic security footage. Attached: a grainy image of her… with Alexander Wolfe beside her.
Julian's eyes narrowed. "Interesting."
Then, he smiled.
Not the kind of smile that meant warmth.
The kind that meant war.
Alexander couldn't sleep.
He had tried to distract himself checked his watch a dozen times, listened to the forest winds tapping against the old window but something about Liana's gaze lingered in his mind.
It wasn't just her words. It was the way shehad looked at him. Like she was seeing something buried deep, something even he had forgotten.
At 2:14 a.m., he gave up trying. Restless, he wandered downstairs into the clinic's main hallway. It was quiet, lights dimmed low for the night. He wasn't sure what drew him to the bookshelf.Then he saw it.
Tucked between worn medical encyclopedias and dusty anatomy journals was a photo. Half-sticking out, as if recently pulled and hastily returned.
He didn't mean to pry, but when he pulled it free, his heart stilled.
Two children.
A hospital room.
And himself.
His breath caught.
He remembered the day, vaguely he'd snuck away from his father's press tour at the hospital, annoyed by the formality. He found a girl sitting alone in the pediatric wing, her leg in a cast, her hands fidgeting with origami cranes from a craft box.
They'd talked for hours. She made him laugh. He made her smile. When she asked him if he was a doctor, he had puffed up and said, "No, but I'll own the hospitals someday."
He thought he'd never see her again.
But here she was.
And she remembered him first.
He sat heavily on the nearby bench, still staring at the image.
The memory now came in fragments: her laugh, her resilience. The way she'd winced when moving, but refused help. She had been his first moment of clarity that life could be fragile, and worth protecting.
Liana Reyes had shaped something in him before he ever became the man he was today.
And she never knew.
Or maybe she did.
A door creaked behind him. Liana appeared in the hallway, carrying her coat, clearly surprised to see him holding the photo.
Neither spoke for a moment.
"You remember?" she asked finally.
"I do now."
She took a tentative step forward. "It was only one day. But you gave me something that stayed with me. Hope."
"And you gave me something I didn't know I needed," he said. "A reason."
Their eyes locked. There was no distance left between past and present only the thread that had tied them all along.
"I think we were meant to find each other again," she whispered.
Before he could answer, his phone buzzed. A weak signal. One bar.
An unknown number.
One line of text.
"She's in danger. Get her out." – E
Alexander's blood ran cold.
He turned the screen to her.
"Do you know what this means?"
Liana's face drained of color. "It means Julian knows I'm alive."