Chapter one

Prologue: The Night Everything Was Lost

19 years ago

The nursery smelled of warm milk and lavender. Two cribs stood side by side under the soft glow of a single lamp.

Sabrina Lopez rested her hands on the railings, heart still full from the long day of holding them. Harry slept with his tiny fist stuffed in his mouth, making soft sucking noises. Jade lay awake, her silver hair catching the light like moonlight on water, those deep blue eyes fixed on her mother with unnerving calm.

“You’re supposed to be sleeping, little one,” Sabrina whispered, reaching down to brush a strand from Jade’s forehead. Her voice cracked slightly — the exhaustion and overwhelming love mixing together. “Both of you… my miracles.”

Jade made a small cooing sound, almost like agreement.

Sabrina smiled, even as her eyes stung. “You’re going to be trouble, aren’t you? I can already tell.”

Behind her, the door creaked open.

“Your Grace?”

A young maid stood there, hands clasped in front of her. Plain face. Quiet voice. New.

“I’ve come to check on the children.”

Sabrina hesitated. Something in her chest tightened — that strange, primal instinct new mothers carry. She looked at her babies one more time, reluctant to leave even for a moment.

“Mira, isn’t it?” she asked.

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“The children are fine. But… stay with them. I’ll only be a minute. Their father wanted to see them before bed.”

“Of course.”

Sabrina forced herself to step away. At the door she glanced back. Jade was still watching her.

She never saw her daughter again.

An hour later the Duke found his wife on her knees in the empty nursery, clutching the tiny blanket from Jade’s crib to her chest as if it could still hold warmth. Her screams had already gone hoarse.

The window swung open in the cold night wind.

The maid named Mira had vanished.

Harry slept on, unaware, in the crib beside the empty one.

The Duke of Rivermond stood frozen for a long moment, then dropped beside his wife and pulled her into his arms. His voice, when it finally came, was raw and shaking with a fury and grief that would harden into iron over the years:

“I will find her. I swear it on my life. I don’t care how long it takes… I will bring our daughter home.”

"Chapter One: Jasmine"

Jasmine loved the forest because it never asked her to hide.

Here, beneath the shifting canopy of leaves, she could let the scarf slip just a little. Silver strands caught the dappled light as she walked barefoot over cool moss. Kira and Akira moved like silver ghosts beside her, their presence the only safety she truly trusted.

"Jasmine!"

Lilly’s voice cut through the trees, bright and impatient. "You’re going to be late for market again!"

Jasmine laughed, but her hand flew up to tighten the scarf around her hair. The familiar knot of anxiety settled in her stomach — that constant, low hum she had learned to live with. She pulled the fabric lower, making sure not a single strand showed.

"Coming!" she called, forcing lightness into her voice.

She grabbed her basket of herbs and ran toward the village path, heart beating a little too fast, the way it always did when she left the trees behind. Granny’s warning echoed in her head for the thousandth time: If the wrong person sees that hair, you won’t live to see your first birthday.

At the market, Jasmine kept her head down while she set up her stall. She smiled at customers, chatted politely, but every laugh felt slightly practiced. When Old Man Henrick hobbled over complaining about his knees, she handed him the willow bark tea with genuine kindness.

"You’re a good girl," he said, pressing coins into her palm.

The words landed warmly, but they also stung. If only you knew.

That evening, back in Granny’s small cottage, Jasmine sat at the wooden table counting her coins under the warm firelight. The numbers blurred a little as tiredness crept in — not just from the day, but from the endless performance of being normal.

"Not bad," she murmured.

Granny looked up from the stew, her sharp eyes softening as they always did when she looked at Jasmine. She crossed the room slowly and pressed a kiss to the top of Jasmine’s scarf-covered head.

"You’re a good girl," Granny said quietly. "I don’t say it enough. But you are."

Jasmine leaned into the touch, eyes closing for a moment. The affection was real, and yet it always carried the same quiet ache: She loves the girl she found… but would she still love the truth?

"I had a good teacher," Jasmine whispered, swallowing the lump in her throat.

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