CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Arianna’s POV

The morning after the gala, I woke up before the sun had fully settled into the sky. The sheets beside me were cold—Evan had already left the bed.

Typical of him.

Slipping on a robe, I padded quietly across the room and cracked the door open. The hallway was silent, too silent for a house that claimed to be full of warmth and family. Something about the mansion felt...watchful. Like the walls had eyes.

I moved through the corridor with slow steps, retracing my path from yesterday when I had wandered into Evan’s study. I needed to see that photo again. The one with the woman who looked hauntingly like me. Maybe I had imagined the resemblance. Maybe exhaustion was playing tricks on my mind.

But deep down, I knew better. Soon, I reached the study and realized it was locked. So now he was being careful.

I chewed on the inside of my cheek, already formulating another plan when footsteps approached from the other end of the hallway. I quickly ducked around the corner, hiding in a recessed alcove beside the linen closet.

It was his father.

Mr. Gates strode past me, dressed in a crisp grey suit, his phone glued to his ear. His voice was low, but his words carried just enough to make my stomach tighten.

“I don’t care what she looks like. I told you already—we need to keep the girl distracted. If she starts asking the right questions, this entire arrangement collapses.”

Pause.

“No. Evan doesn’t know everything. And he can’t. Not yet.”

With that, he disappeared down the stairs before I could follow. My heart thudded in my chest as I slid down the wall, my mind racing.

What the hell was going on? Who were they talking about…me?

I hurried back to Evan’s room, hands shaking. He wasn’t just hiding something. His entire family was.

I sat on the edge of the bed, trying to catch my breath, when I noticed something tucked beneath the pillow.

An envelope.

I blinked and reached for it with trembling fingers. There was no name or handwriting. Just a slip of paper inside with seven chilling words.

“She’s not who you think she is.”

“What the hell…” I whispered as the bathroom door opened suddenly, and I crumpled the note in my fist before Evan emerged. He wore a towel around his waist and looked like he hadn't slept much.

"You're up early," he said, reaching for a shirt draped over the chair.

"Couldn't sleep," I replied carefully, sliding the note into the pocket of my robe.

His eyes flicked to mine, searching. “You look pale.”

"Probably still recovering from your ex-girlfriend’s poison perfume," I muttered.

He chuckled dryly. “Camille always knew how to make a scene.”

“But you didn't seem surprised to see her,” I said, watching him closely.

His jaw tensed. “We ended years ago. She just doesn’t know how to let go.”

I narrowed my eyes. “And what about you? What are you holding onto?”

He froze for a second, then smiled as if amused. “I could ask you the same.”

I dropped it. For now.

****

Later that day, I wandered outside under the pretense of needing air. The Gates estate stretched endlessly from the gardens, fountains, and even a glass greenhouse that looked like it hadn’t been touched in years. I didn’t know what I was looking for. But I sure found something.

Behind the greenhouse, past the overgrown hedges, was a rusted gate. I tugged it open and followed the mossy path that led to a stone-walled garden. There, beneath the vines and tangled roses, sat a small stone bench.

And next to it, half-buried in the dirt, was a child’s music box.

I knelt, brushing it off as the paint was faded, but I could still make out the name inscribed beneath the base in careful cursive. “To Lillian – My wildflower. Love, M.”

Lillian?

I didn’t know a Lillian.

But when I opened the music box and the haunting lullaby began to play, something in my chest tightened. The melody… it was familiar. Unsettlingly so.

As if I’d heard it before in a dream. Or maybe a nightmare.

****

Back inside, Evan was in the sitting room, glass in hand, watching the fireplace as if it would talk back. He looked up as I entered, eyes narrowing slightly.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he said.

“Maybe I have,” I whispered, stepping closer. “Tell me something, Evan. Have you ever heard the name Lillian?”

His expression didn’t change, but something in him stilled.

“I don’t think so,” he said slowly. “Why?”

“No reason,” I lied. “Just came across it somewhere.”

He nodded once, too quickly. “Maybe one of the old staff. My mother had a few companions when I was younger. She was always taking people in.”

I didn’t believe him. Not one word of it.

Then there was a pause before he added, “You really should stop digging, Arianna.”

I folded my arms. “Why? Because it makes you uncomfortable?”

“Because it might make you disappear,” he said flatly.

I stared at him, stunned by the honesty in that threat masquerading as a warning.

“Did you just threaten me?” I asked, stepping back.

He set his glass down and stood. “No. I’m protecting you. Even if you don’t realize it yet.” Again, there was a beat of silence too long to ignore.

And then I said what had been itching inside me all day. “Evan,” I uttered. “Is there something about me you’re not telling me? Something about… who I really am?”

He gazed at me with something that almost resembled pity. “Arianna…” he called.

“Because your mother’s eyes light up when she sees me, and your father looks like I’m a ghost come back to haunt him. And the woman in your photo album—she looks like she could be my twin.” I continued. Then he exhaled, like the weight of it was crushing him.

“We’re done here,” he said, voice clipped. “For now.”

And just like that, he walked past me and out the door. But I wasn’t done, because now I had a name.

Lillian.

And someone had taken great care to bury her.  if I’d learned anything about myself in this nightmare marriage, it was that I didn’t stay buried for long.