Chapter 392 

Irene leaned across the table, voice dropping dangerously. “While you were planning your next party, I was explaining to preschoolers why they dont have daddy like other kids. While you were living your perfect little life, I was crying in the shower so my children wouldn’t hear me break down. I spent everys. birthday, every Christmas, every milestone watching my babies look around for a father who wasn’t there.” 

Something deadly calm settled over Irene as she straightened up. But thanks for the confession, Anna. Sexual assault by deception is still on the books Hope you like your cell, because you just earned an extended stay.” 

Anna’s smugness vanished. “Wait–you can’t record this!” 

“Police station,” Thomas said mildly. “Everything’s on camera. 

“This is ancient history!” Anna’s voice pitched higher. ‘Nobody cares!” 

Adam fixed her with a stare cold enough to freeze fire. Drugging people into non–consensual sex is assault. With two victims, the charges stack up nicely. 

Anna’s gaze drifted back to Adam’s casual clothes, something clicking behind her eyes. She studied his face, her expression shifting from confusion to disbelief. 

“You look… just like…” Her voice faltered. ‘No way.” 

Her gaze bounced between Adam and Thomas, who had gone utterly still, hand hovering near his pocket. 

Understanding washed over her in a sickening wave. “Oh my God.” The blood drained from her face. “That college kid… it was… you?” 

Irene frowned, puzzled. “Anna, what are you- 

“YOU?” Anna’s hands trembled against the table, eyes wild. “Adam Haven? THE Adam Haven?” 

She lurched upright, pointing a shaking finger at Adam. “The triplets–they’re- Words failed her. 

A sound tore from her throat, half laugh, half sob. “I tried to destroy her with a nobody, and I gave her YOU? I handed her Haven children on a silver platter?‘ 

She doubled over, shoulders heaving. “I made her the mother of HAVEN HEIRS?” 

Guards burst in as Anna’s hysterics escalated, her carefully constructed façade crumbling to dust. 

“She was nothing!” Anna screamed as they pulled her toward the door. “A charity case! She wasn’t supposed to get the fairy tale!” 

Her final words echoed down the corridor: “Your kids are HAVENS! The most powerful family in Silver City! And I MADE IT HAPPEN! 

The door banged shut, leaving a silence so heavy it buzzed in Adam’s ears. 

Irene sat frozen, one hand pressed to her mouth, her eyes wide with shock. Thomas murmured something about giving them privacy and slipped out, the door clicking softly behind him. 

The tiny room seemed to shrink around them. Adam couldn’t look at her yet. He stared at his hands instead, wondering how you explain to someone that you’re the stranger who changed their life forever. 

“What just happened?” Irene’s voice came out paper–thin. “She was saying…” She swallowed hard. ‘She was saying you…” 

Adam’s chest felt too tight to breathe. The weight of six years–of three children’s lives–pressed down on him like a mountain. 

Irene. His voice sounded strange in his own ears. He forced himself to meet her eyes, to face whatever came next. ‘I need to tell you something.” 

He wheeled closer until their knees touched. His hands shook slightly as he reached for hers, half–expecting her to pull away. She didn’t. 

1/2 

Chapter 392 

That night at the gala… The words felt like swallowing broken glas. That student Anna picked- 

Irene’s eyes widened, realization dawning. Adam?” His name came out like a prayer and a question all at once. 

He tightened his grip on her hands, anchoring them both for the storm ahead. All his business savvy, all his billions, couldn’t make this moment caser 

trene, I was that college student,” he said finally, each word clear and unvarnished. The truth hung between them, impossible to take back, impossible tä ignore–a turning point from which there would be no return. 

Irene let go of Adam’s hand, her face blank in a way that screamed louder than any tears could. No shouting, no breakdown just that unnerving stillness that happens when your mind can’t process what your ears just heard. 

She stood there, staring through him like he’d turned invisible, her body present but everything else–the spark that made her Irene vanished somewhere behind those distant eyes. 

*Irene?” Adam reached for her hand again, voice barely above a whisper. 

She flinched away, a tiny movement that cut deeper than if she’d slapped him. The space between them suddenly felt like miles. 

Under that mask of calm, a hurricane was building. The nameless guy who’d knocked her up, destroyed her family ties, and flipped her world upside down was sitting right in front of her–the same man whose smile had become her favorite part of each day. 

The universe had one hell of a sick sense of humor. 

Her mind flashed back to those dark days in R Country–white–knuckling through contractions in a hospital where nurses spoke a language she barely understood, crying into pillows after the kids fell asleep, those months when even brushing her teeth felt like climbing Everest. 

Only her grandfather’s letters and the triplets‘ first smiles had pulled her back from the edge, transforming her bit by broken bit into someone who could stand tall again. 

And now, the plot twist to end all plot twists–the villain and the hero of her story were the same freaking person. 

“Need some air,” she mumbled, the words scraping her throat. “Just… need to get out…” 

Before Adam could even open his mouth, she was already moving toward the door, walking like someone navigating a minefield–hurried but trying desperately not to look like she was running away. 

Irene drifted through the police station corridor like a ghost, steps mechanically even, eyes fixed forward on nothing at all. This eerie calmness terrified everyone who saw her pass–an empty vessel where a vibrant woman/had been moments before. 

Adam wheeled after her, his chair making frantic squeaks against the linoleum. “Irene, please wait! I never meant to hurt you-* 

She kept walking, his words washing over her like she’d gone deaf. Each step took her further from the room where her world had imploded, but the truth followed like a shadow. 

Behind that wall of nothing, six years of bottled–up rage and pain were hitting critical mass. During those endless nights in R Country, she’d invented new curses for the phantom father of her children. Every time one of the kids asked about their dad, it was like someone twisting a knife in her gut. Each Father’s Day card made at school that had nowhere to go sent her hiding in the bathroom, biting her fist to muffle the sobs. 

She stopped dead in her tracks without turning around, her voice flat as a flatline: “When did you find out?” 

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