Delilah’s Point of ViewThe brush slips in my hand, dragging a crimson streak of lipstick too far past my lip. “Damn it,” I hiss, tossing it onto the vanity table with more force than necessary. The sound echoes in the room, sharp and accusing, like even the walls know I am unraveling.I lean closer to the mirror and my reflection stares back flawless curls, gold earrings glinting beneath the lamp, but eyes that betray me. They tremble, flicker, give away the truth no matter how much mascara I drown them in. I can help but think about my life with Jackson before Emily , Amara or whatever name she goes by today came back into our lives . Our lives were not perfect but durable, now it is just full of drama , blood and injustice . I press the tissue against my mouth, wiping the mistake. Calm, Delilah. You have survived worse storms than this. But the storm tonight is not Jackson’s temper or society’s whispers. It’s Emily /Amara .My phone vibrates against the table, its glow lighting th
Emily’s Point of ViewFor years I grieved children I thought were buried in ashes . Yesterday the truth did not whisper, it crashed into me like a storm ,my babies are alive. My babies did not perish in the fire ten years ago . The thought alone is enough to glue me to the bed long after the sun has clawed its way into the sky. Golden light streams through the tall windows of my penthouse, catching on the white silk curtains I never bothered to draw shut last night. The room feels too bright, too loud, too alive for a heart that has just relearned how to hope.I should feel joy ,a sense of relief or something like resurrection. But instead my body lies heavy, like stone, as though grief refuses to give me back what it stole. For years, I walked around with an invisible coffin chained to my chest, mourning children I never held, never kissed, never even named properly in my heart. Yesterday’s meeting with Nancy cracked that coffin open. She looked me in the eyes, trembling, struggling
Delilah’s Point of View The mansion loomed like a ghost as I pulled up the driveway, its windows glowing faintly against the night sky. I had been gone all day, drifting from bar to bar, restaurant to café, anywhere that kept me from facing what I had heard today . I wanted to drown in noise, in alcohol, in anything that made me forget the private investigator’s words.Amara Holt’s real identity has been revealed, she is Emily Jack .No matter how many glasses of wine I downed, the thought clung to me like a shadow. It could not be true right ? It had to be a mistake. A trick . Maybe the PI was wrong, maybe Amara was just some woman who bore a resemblance, maybe this was all another one of the universe’s cruel ways of punishing me.But every time I tried to convince myself of that, Amara’s voice replayed in my head the way she looked at me across her penthouse, the way she smiled like she already knew the secrets buried in my chest.If Emily was alive, then everything I had built,
Nurse Nancy’s Point of ViewThe night air felt colder than usual as I stepped out of the glittering penthouse building. My legs carried me down the pavement, but I could hardly feel them. Every nerve in my body buzzed with disbelief, with terror, with something I could not even name.“I am Emily.”Her voice still rang in my ears, sharp as a blade. My hands trembled as I pulled my coat tighter around me, but the chill was inside me, not out here in the street. Emily the woman the world thought might have dead, the woman I myself believed was gone forever was standing in front of me tonight, alive and burning with rage and grief. She is hungry for revenge .For a moment I had thought Amara was playing some cruel game, another trick from the world of powerful investors and shadowed secrets but then she said my name in a way only Emily once said after I helped her deliver her babies safely . She looked at me with those same pleading eyes I once saw in the delivery room, when she clutched
Emily’s Point of View“She has agreed to meet with you. We will be there in thirty minutes.”The words from my private investigator settle in my ears like the first crack of thunder before a long-awaited storm. For a moment, I simply close my eyes and allow the relief to wash over me. Nurse Nancy after so long she has agreed to meet me , no more hiding or running away when she sees me .The first time I met her, I was Emily the broken mother who just wanted to safely deliver her babies not Amara the powerful investor. I was simply a patient but she treated me more like family, as though the blood coursing through my veins was her own. She bandaged me with tenderness, spoke to me with patience, and carried me with a love that no nurse was ever obligated to give and how did I repay her kindness? By forcing bribes down her throat. With whispered deals in hospital corridors, coaxing truths from her lips that she should never have been forced to utter. Even now, guilt clings to me like a
Delilah’s Point of view I had been dragging my feet all morning, praying Jackson would change his mind about me apologizing to Amara , but instead he sat in the mansion like a guard dog, cold eyes following me with every excuse I made. Not once did he soften. Not once did he tell me to forget about it. He just sat there, jaw clenched, fingers tapping against the arm of his chair like he was counting the seconds of my delay. His silence was louder than shouting, and the weight of it pressed against my chest until I could barely breathe. By the time hours had crawled by, my excuses had run dry. Finally, his voice cut through the air, hard and merciless. “If you do not apologize to Amara Holt by today and get her on board to invest again,” he said, his eyes like daggers, “then you should pack your bags and leave my mansion. I will not stay married to a liability.” The words shattered me. Leave ? After every