Chapter 5: The Door He Keeps Knocking On

I wasn’t sure what shocked me more—that the girl standing at my door looked like someone had copy-pasted my teenage face, or that she said the word “sister” like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“I… I think there’s been a mistake,” I said, tightening the tie of my robe around my waist. “Who told you that?”

“The clinic,” she said. “The DNA registry. I submitted a search request two weeks ago… they emailed your name this morning.”

Jaxon looked between us, protective instinct practically radiating off him. “Elara, you want me to—”

“No,” I said quickly. “It’s okay. Let her in. She’s soaked.”

She stepped inside hesitantly, dripping on the mat.

“I’m Mia,” she said. “I know this is weird. I’ve been in the foster system since I was six. They told me I didn’t have any biological siblings, but I guess… someone lied.”

I stared at her. Same eye shape. Same hair. Same stubborn tilt to the chin.

No way this was random.

But I couldn’t afford to spiral—not yet.

“Alright, Mia,” I said. “Let’s get you dry first. We’ll deal with the possible-sibling bombshell after tea.”

She blinked. “You’re not going to kick me out?”

I smiled a little. “You showed up in the rain. At midnight. I’d be a monster if I said no.”

Jaxon handed her a dry towel and quietly moved to grab the extra blankets from the hall.

And for one split second, I wondered if fate had a sense of humor.

Because just when I started piecing my life back together… it sent a storm in a teenager’s hoodie and then slammed the past against my door again the very next morning.

---

I was frying eggs when my phone buzzed.

Jaxon glanced over from the kitchen table, sipping black coffee and skimming some boring city council article.

“Who’s texting this early?” he asked.

I checked the screen and winced.

“Cyrus.”

He raised a brow. “Want me to block him again?”

“You can’t block your ex-husband during legal proceedings,” I said. “It’s unethical. Apparently.”

“You say that like he follows ethics.”

I hesitated… then opened the message.

Elara, I heard about the girl who came by last night. We need to talk. Meet me for breakfast. 9 AM. Corner of Linley & Third. Please.

I stared at it.

How the hell did he already know?

Before I could spiral, Jaxon leaned over and tilted the phone toward him.

“Is he stalking you again?”

“No. Probably just has ears everywhere,” I said, shutting it off. “I’ll go. Better he says it to my face than shows up here uninvited.”

Jaxon didn’t look thrilled. “Do you want backup?”

“You’re already backup,” I said, grabbing my coat. “If I’m not back in an hour, come drag me out.”

He frowned. “I mean it. If he says anything—”

“I’ll be fine.”

But as I closed the door behind me, something in me tightened.

Because Cyrus didn’t ask to meet unless he had a plan.

---

The café on Linley smelled like espresso and fresh bread. Cyrus was already seated near the window, in a tailored navy coat and his usual pressed expression, like the rest of us were just messy background noise.

He stood when I approached. “You came.”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” I said, sitting opposite him.

A server came by, and I ordered coffee. Cyrus already had his.

“I heard about the girl,” he said as soon as we were alone.

“I figured.”

“She’s not your responsibility, Elara.”

That threw me.

“She showed up at my door,” I said. “Dripping wet. Looking like a ghost from my baby photos. I couldn’t just shut the door.”

Cyrus folded his hands. “You’re already vulnerable with the trial. You don’t need to complicate things.”

“Is that why you dragged me here? To warn me not to be seen with a teenager who might be my family?”

His tone didn’t change. “To remind you that appearances matter. Especially now.”

I sipped my coffee. “And I suppose appearing to still be under your thumb is part of the look.”

“You’re twisting my words.”

“No,” I said calmly, “I’m hearing them exactly as you mean them. Let me guess. You want me to ask the girl to leave. Say she’s mistaken. Pretend none of it happened.”

His silence told me I’d hit the mark.

I leaned back. “Why does it bother you so much?”

“Because I know you,” he said, too softly. “You’ll get attached. You’ll want to take care of her. And you’ll forget that you don’t have to.”

That struck somewhere I didn’t want it to.

“She might be my sister, Cyrus.”

“She might be a scam.”

“She’s not.”

“And if she is? If this blows up in your face? Then what?”

“Then at least I’ll know I did something human,” I snapped. “I may have let you clip my wings once, but I’m not crawling back inside your birdcage just because it’s ‘easier’.”

His jaw clenched.

“I didn’t come here to fight,” he said. “I came to offer you a choice.”

“Choice,” I repeated. “That’s rich.”

He leaned in slightly, voice dropping.

“If you want, we can postpone the trial. Quietly. Delay things for a few months. You stay somewhere neutral—not with Jaxon. We both make public statements saying we’re reflecting, healing. We spin this.”

I stared at him.

“You want me to fake a reconciliation for the press?”

“No. I want you to stop blowing up your future because my brother has a hero complex.”

I stood. “You think Jaxon’s the problem? He’s the only reason I’m standing on my own two feet again.”

“He’s unstable. Impulsive. He ruins things.”

“And you?” I said coldly. “You erase things. Feelings. People. Me.”

He went quiet.

I grabbed my coat.

“Don’t text me again unless it’s legal,” I said.

But just as I reached the door, his voice followed me.

“He’ll break your heart, Elara. And when he does, don’t expect me to put it back together again.”

I didn’t turn around.

I just kept walking.

---

When I got home, the apartment was quiet.

Too quiet.

“Mia?” I called, dropping my keys on the table.

Nothing.

I frowned and checked the spare room. The blankets were folded, the bed untouched. My chest tightened.

“Mia?”

Then I heard it—Jaxon’s voice from the balcony.

I stepped out and found him leaning against the railing, phone pressed to his ear, eyes darker than usual.

“Don’t give me that,” he snapped. “She’s not ready to talk to anyone else right now.”

A pause.

“I said no. You stay the hell away from her.”

I stepped forward, and he turned, surprised. He ended the call.

“Who was that?”

He hesitated.

“Jaxon.”

“That,” he said carefully, “was a man claiming to be Mia’s foster case supervisor. Only problem is—he wasn’t calling from the state registry number.”

I stared. “You think he’s lying?”

He nodded once. “And he knew your full name. Mine too. Said he was coming to take her back.”

I felt a chill rise in my arms.

“She’s missing.”

“She’s not missing,” Jaxon said. “She left this.”

He handed me a crumpled note.

I unfolded it slowly.

Elara,

Thank you for being kind. I didn’t mean to make trouble. I think I was followed here last night. I can’t risk anyone else getting hurt.

I’ll be okay. Please don’t try to find me.

My hands trembled.

“Jaxon…”

He stepped closer, voice low. “I think someone’s trying to use her to get to you. Or silence her. And if that’s true…”

He didn’t finish.

Because in that moment, my phone lit up again.

Another unknown number.

One text.

You should’ve taken Cyrus’s offer.