“I followed her for a while,” the woman said slowly, “but I don’t recall any accident.” She paused, her brows drawn together in concentration, like someone trying to remember a detail long buried. “Do you remember Sam?” John asked, his voice quiet but insistent. “He was the one who said she had an accident. Memory loss. And honestly… we trust him more than anyone.” There was a strange tension in his eyes—like he wanted to believe her but couldn’t afford to doubt Sam. “Maybe you should come back another time,” he added, his gaze shifting toward the hallway. “She’s in a really bad mood today.” The woman stood up abruptly, chair scraping the tiled floor. Her voice sharpened. “I’ll just say this—do your own investigation. I’ve always believed you trust Sam far too much. He can ruin you if he wants to.” John’s jaw clenched. “Please leave,” he said, voice firm now, final. He didn’t even look at her as she walked out. From her room upstairs, Racheal stood frozen by the window, wat
Amanda, in a daze, slowly drove home. Her grip tightened on the steering wheel as her mind spiraled. The hum of the engine and the quiet of the evening offered no comfort—only a backdrop to her unraveling thoughts. “Racheal…” What is she hiding? Who is she? Her heart pounded as her father's voice echoed in her head—sharp, unforgiving. If he ever found out she was digging into the past, into the family’s secrets... he wouldn’t hesitate to lash out. And his anger always needed a target. Lisa. Or her. "This is driving me crazy," Amanda whispered, eyes stinging. When she finally reached the mansion, she didn’t say a word to anyone. She walked straight to her room and shut the door behind her. The silence was suffocating. She sat on the floor, knees drawn to her chest, rocking gently. Her thoughts collided like a crashing storm. She buried her fingers in her hair. “AHHHHHHHH!” The scream tore out of her, raw and broken. Then, without thinking, she grabbed her phone and call
Their lips parted with the sound of footsteps approaching — steady, urgent — and then a knock on the door. “Anna, please open the door.” Daisy’s voice cut through the tension like a blade. Austin’s eyes widened. Without a word, he scrambled across the room and slipped into Racheal’s bathroom, closing the door just as the doorknob turned. Racheal steadied herself, taking a deep breath. She opened the door to find Daisy standing there, her face twisted in concern and guilt. “I’m sorry… for what they said,” Daisy whispered. “Please don’t take it to heart — that you couldn’t go to College. That wasn’t fair.” “No, it’s no problem,” Racheal said quickly, trying to dismiss her. Her voice came out softer than usual. Daisy lingered for a moment, clearly uneasy. “Alright, I’ll just go check on Austin,” she said, turning. But just as she took a step away, Austin bolted out of the room and raced down the stairs. Daisy spun around, stunned. She caught a flash of his shirt and narrowed her
As they left the mansion, she looked back—memories flooding her, tears threatening. But she said nothing as they entered the SUV and drove home. At the house, she ran upstairs, hoping no one would notice her swollen eyes. But Austin did. She entered her room, locked the door, and finally broke down. Images of her father and mother came rushing back. The betrayal cut deeper than any wound. The thought that Mr. Daniels might’ve played a part in it only made it worse. And then Lisa’s voice echoed in her mind: “She was just a problem child.” She sank to the cold floor, curling into herself like a grieving mother mourning a child she never got to hold. Then— Knock. Knock. Her breath caught. She didn’t move at first. “Rachel…” The voice was soft. Familiar. Austin. She wiped her face quickly, hands trembling. Her chest rose and fell in uneven bursts. Her dress was slightly undone, arms limp with exhaustion. Hesitating, she moved toward the door—and opened it slowly. There he w
Years of mourning. Years of being erased Watching them laugh, drink wine, and pass stories around the table—stories built on lies, sealed with the blood of her father. They buried the truth. They buried her name. But they would not bury her again. Rachel wasn’t here to cry. She was here to finish what they started. “Please excuse me,” she said, pushing her chair back, her voice calm but taut. “Could I use your bathroom?” “Upstairs. To the left,” Lisa replied casually, dabbing the corners of her mouth with her napkin. Rachel rose slowly, her heels clicking softly against the marble as she walked away from the table. But inside, every step echoed like thunder. The murmurs of conversation behind her blurred into static. Her pulse raced as the shadows of the hallway wrapped around her like smoke. She passed the bathroom. Didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop. The path pulled her in—an invisible thread leading her straight to the backyard. The garden. She stepped out a
Just then, there was a knock on the door. “Are you ready?” Daisy asked. “Yes,” Rachel replied as Daisy unlocked it. “Oh my—” Daisy gasped. “You look stunning.” Her skin glowed beneath the soft lighting, the black dress hugging her curves with effortless grace. Before Rachel could respond, Austin appeared at the end of the hallway. His eyes lingered too long on her figure. Rachel stiffened. She couldn’t bring herself to meet his gaze—not with the weight of her secret pressing so heavily on her chest. What if he saw through her? What if he recognized all she’d fought so hard to bury? But tonight wasn’t about guilt. It was about purpose. She had one goal. To search the Daniels mansion. To find something—anything—that could serve as evidence. Something that would finally crack this family wide open. “Come on, let’s go!” John called from downstairs. They descended in silence, heading toward the black SUV. The drive felt endless. Memories clawed at her mind like restless ghos