I pulled Jennifer closer, my arms wrapping around her as I looked down at her with a slow, knowing smile. "What do you think?" I murmured, my voice low and teasing, my fingers tracing circles on her back.

Jennifer shook her head, her breath warm against my chest. "I don't care," she whispered, her voice raw with emotion. "I only know you're the one who was with me. That's all that matters." Her hands tightened around me, her voice fierce. "I don't care if you're Mike or someone else. I only care about you."

I reached up, my fingers brushing against the edge of the mask. With a slow, deliberate motion, I peeled it away, letting my true face—Dexter's—emerge.

The mask dissolved into the system storage, leaving only the truth between us. "Listen," I said, my voice dropping to a serious tone, "your man's name is Dexter."

Jennifer's eyes softened as she reached up, her fingers gently caressing my cheek, her touch tender. "Your face…" she murmured, her voice filled with awe. "You're so handsome. Why did you ever hide behind Mike's face?"

A smirk tugged at my lips. "Otherwise, how could I have gotten mother and daughter together?" I teased, my voice laced with dark amusement.

Jennifer's expression flickered, her fingers stilling against my skin. "You're so bad," she whispered, but there was no real anger in her voice—just resignation, and something deeper. "That means… There really was another Mike?"

I sighed, the truth slipping out before I could stop it. "That Mike is dead."

Jennifer's breath hitched, but instead of pulling away, she hugged me tighter, her voice muffled against my chest.

"I don't care who you are," she said fiercely. "But you're not allowed to abandon me. If you do…" Her voice trailed off, the threat hanging in the air between us, unspoken but understood.

I cupped her face, my thumb brushing her lower lip before I kissed her deeply, my voice a promise against her mouth. "I will never abandon you. Okay?"

Jennifer pulled back slightly, her brow furrowing with worry. "But how will you explain this to Emily?" she asked, her voice trembling with uncertainty.

I considered Jennifer's suggestion for a moment, weighing the implications. But before I could respond, her expression hardened with sudden resolve. "Why don't you just be Mike in front of Emily?" she said, her voice firm and unwavering.

"It's the only way. For her sake… and for ours." Her fingers tightened around mine, her eyes locked onto me, pleading for agreement.

But the moment hung in the air, interrupted by a sudden knock at the door.

"Who is it?" I called out, my voice steady but laced with curiosity.

A low, hesitant whisper drifted through the wood: "It's me…"

Nathalie.

I recognized her voice instantly. She must have come looking for me, eager to see her son. A pang of sympathy flickered through me—she'd been waiting for this moment for so long.

I glanced at Jennifer, who was visibly annoyed at the interruption. Her lips pressed into a thin line, her eyes flashing with irritation.

I reached out, pinching her nose playfully. "Don't worry," I murmured, my voice low and reassuring. "We'll have plenty of time later."

Jennifer let out a reluctant sigh but nodded, her frustration easing slightly. I gave her one last lingering look before turning away to get dressed. As I buttoned my shirt, I called out to Lisa, my voice carrying a note of urgency. "Lisa, drive us to the hospital."

The weight of the moment settled over me like a suffocating blanket—Nathalie's trembling hope, Jennifer's unyielding resolve, and the labyrinth of secrets we were all trapped in. There was no time to unravel it all now.

The car's engine hummed softly as Lisa guided us through the city streets, her grip steady on the wheel, her expression impassive, as if she were completely oblivious to the storm unfolding in the back seat.

Nathalie sat beside me, her body rigid, her fingers twisting and untwisting in her lap like she was trying to knot her own anxiety into submission. Her face was flushed a deep, embarrassed red, her eyes darting nervously between her hands and the window, as if she couldn't bear to look at me.

"M-Master…" she stammered, her breath hitching as tears welled up in her eyes. She swallowed hard, her voice trembling. "Please… I'm begging you…" Her hands clenched into fists, her knuckles turning white.

"Don't do anything in front of my son. He's… he's all I have left." A tear slipped down her cheek, and she quickly wiped it away, but more followed, her shoulders shaking with silent, desperate sobs.

She turned to me, her eyes wide and pleading, her voice cracking. "I'll do anything you want, Master. Anything. Just… not in front of him. Please. He's just a boy. He doesn't deserve to see…" She trailed off, unable to finish the thought, her breath coming in ragged gasps. "I promise you, I'll obey. I'll never fight you. Just… please, spare him this."

I studied her for a long moment, taking in the way her body trembled, the way her tears glistened under the dim light of the car's interior. There was something raw and aching in her plea, a mother's love laid bare, vulnerable, and desperate. I reached out, my thumb brushing away the tears streaking down her face, my touch gentle but possessive.

"You're begging me, Nathalie?" I asked, my voice low, almost amused, but with an edge that made her flinch.

"You'll do anything I want?" My fingers lingered on her chin, tilting her face up so her red-rimmed eyes met mine. "You understand what that means, don't you?"

She nodded frantically, her relief at my words mingling with the terror of what she'd just promised. "Yes, Master," she whispered, her voice barely more than a breath. "Anything. Just… please."

I let the silence stretch between us, my gaze unwavering, my grip on her chin firm. "Fine," I said finally, my tone leaving no room for doubt.

"I promise you, Nathalie. I won't touch you in front of your son." My fingers slid from her chin to trace a slow, deliberate path down her neck, my voice dropping to a whisper. "But you will keep your promise. Won't you?"

Nathalie's breath hitched, and she nodded again, her body trembling under my touch. "Yes, Master," she whispered, her voice shaking but resolute. "I will."

I leaned back in my seat, my eyes never leaving hers. "Good," I murmured, my voice a dark caress. "Because I hate broken promises, Nathalie."

She swallowed hard, her gaze dropping to her lap, her fingers twisting together again. The car fell silent, the tension between us thick enough to cut. Nathalie's breathing slowly steadied, but her body remained tense, her mind no doubt racing with the implications of her vow.

Lisa, meanwhile, continued to drive with careful precision, her eyes fixed on the road ahead, her expression unreadable. If she had heard anything, she gave no sign—her professionalism a shield, her focus unwavering. The city lights blurred past the windows, casting shifting shadows across Nathalie's tear-streaked face.

I glanced out the window, my mind already racing ahead. Nathalie's promise was a victory, but it was only the beginning. The real game was just starting.

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