Chapter Ten

LIANA

I coughed so hard it felt like my chest was ripping open. My lungs were on fire, like they were trying to remember how to breathe.  

I felt arms around me. My cheek was pressed against someone’s shoulder, and everything else felt cold. My dress was heavy, soaked. My fingers were numb. 

I blinked slowly, but everything was spinning. The sky above me was moving too fast. Was I dead? No—my chest hurt too much. I was alive. Barely. I tried to lift my head but didn’t have the strength. My lips moved on their own, like the words were forcing their way out of me.  

“Please…” My voice cracked. “Save me… I—I don’t want to die. I can’t leave her alone.”  

Her. My daughter. My baby.  

She needed me.  

My throat burned. And then everything went dark again.

I woke up to the sound of silence. The sheets under me were soft, warm. Too soft. Too warm. My eyes fluttered open and landed on a ceiling I didn’t recognize. 

Where was I?

I pushed myself up slowly. My body ached like I’d been hit by a truck. I looked down—my dress was damp but not soaked. My hair, when I reached up to touch it, was almost dry. Someone had taken care of me and dried me off. Covered me with a blanket. I tried to picture the face, the arms that held me. But the image in my head wasn't clear. Whoever it was… thank you.

Penelope. “Fucking bitch,” I whispered, voice shaking.

She knew I couldn’t swim. She still did it. She pushed me anyway. I clenched the blanket tightly in my fists.

My phone. I had it in my hand when she pushed me.

My heart jumped. If it was ruined—if it didn’t work anymore—how would the caller reach me? How would I know anything about my daughter?

Panic kicked in fast. I stood up, even though my legs were shaky. I checked the bed. Nothing. Pulled the blanket back. Still nothing. I opened the drawer next to the bed—empty. My hands were already sweating. What if it was still in the pool? How will I get it? Then I saw it.

Across the room, on a long wooden table near the window. 

I rushed to it, almost stumbling. There it was. My phone.

I picked it up with both hands, terrified it would be dead and not work anymore. But the screen lit up. It was fine.

Of course. It’s been five years. Water-resistant phones exist now. I held the phone close to my chest like it was a lifeline—it was. 

I stepped onto the balcony. The room I was in was right above the pool. My palms gripped the railing. The night sky was clear. Stars across it like they were drawn there. 

I wondered if she was looking at them too. Wherever she was. Was she safe? Was she scared? 

My phone buzzed in my hand. I looked down. One message. The same number. The same one that’s been haunting me.

I tapped it open.

The message read: Almost forgot you can’t swim. Think your daughter inherited that too? There’s an old saying—children mirror the fears of their mothers. Want me to test it and find out?

My blood ran cold.

I stared at the screen, breath caught in my throat. My fingers started to shake. The message blurred for a second before my vision cleared again.

The person was close.

What if it were someone I knew? Wait–What if it was the person who saved me?

My heart pounded. Too many questions. Not enough air.

It must be someone I've seen. 

My phone vibrated in my hand. I jumped. The same number.

I didn’t hesitate—I answered it, gripping the phone tightly. “Who are you?” I almost yelled.

Silence. Then… movement.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a lady walking toward the pool. Deliberately slow. When she reached the stone deck, she stopped.

I froze.

Penelope.

I’d recognize that walk anywhere. Her hair was pulled back. She stood perfectly straight. She turned sideways, phone pressed to her ear. She was on a call but her mouth wasn’t moving. I swallowed hard. My breath caught again.

Could it be… her?

The voice on the line was modulated, unrecognizable, genderless so it could be Penelope. 

“Hello?” I said again, quieter this time.

The voice finally responded. “Do you think we should test it? See if the saying’s true?” At that exact moment, Penelope’s lips started moving. And when the voice stopped, so did she.

My blood turned to ice.

It made sense—she was the only one, besides Raymond, who knew about my daughter. The only one who would know where he kept her. Why didn’t I see it before?

It was right in front of me the whole time. I stormed out to the pool, my feet hitting the tiles hard. 

“Penelope!” I yelled, loud enough. 

She turned. Her phone was already down. The moment her eyes landed on me, they widened for just a second—then they were back to their normal size. 

I scoffed. “Where is she?”

Her brows wrinkled in confusion. She dares to act like she's confused? Another scoff broke from my lips. 

Anger surged through me. My legs moved before I could stop them.

I closed the distance between us and grabbed her by the throat. Her hands grabbed mine.

Her eyes widened. “Where is my daughter?! Where is she?! Tell me where you kept her!”I growled, my fingers tightening

She gasped, but I didn’t loosen my grip.

“I swear to God, Penelope, if you don’t tell me where she is, I’ll kill you right here—do you hear me? I’ll kill you!” 

My voice cracked but I didn’t let go. She was gasping and refused to say a word. "Where is she?" 

 She had answers. And I wasn’t leaving without them.