CH2

AMELIA 

Heart failure. She's critical.

The words hit me like physical blows, each one punching the air out of my lungs.

My mother. Critical condition. The woman who has looked at me with only disgust and disappointment my entire life. The same woman who always made it clear that Katherine is the precious daughter worth loving.

That woman is critically ill.

“I—” My voice cracks. “I need to tell you something first—”

“I don't have time for your lies and excuses, Amelia. We're leaving right now,” he grabs my hand and yanks me forward, forcing me to follow him behind as we leave the house. The pregnancy test results are still in my purse back in the kitchen.

The secret I have been agonizing over sharing with him suddenly seems insignificant compared to this new crisis.

As we enter Logan's car, the driver quickly zooms off through the streets towards the hospital. Now a bit settled in the car, I take off the apron and fold it before placing it in the space between us at the back seat where we are seated in silence. I hate the silence, but I know now is not the time to break it by saying anything to Logan.

Especially not breaking it with the news of my pregnancy.

Finally, a few minutes later, we arrive at the hospital and hurry out of the car and into the building. The hospital corridor stretches before me like a tunnel with no end, and the fluorescent lights are too bright and harsh against my eyes.

I hate hospitals. They are always fond of bad news.

My legs feel disconnected from my body as Logan and I rush towards the critical care unit. After emerging from the corner, I see my father standing outside a ward, definitely my mother's ward.

Ronan Bennett. Head Warrior. Respected and feared throughout the pack.

Now, he is reduced to just a man waiting helplessly while death circles someone he loves.

When he sees us, especially me, his green eyes—the same color as Katherine's eyes—flash with anger that makes my stomach knot into painful twists.

"You!” The word is an accusation against me. He crosses the distance between us in three quick strides, and I instinctively step back, only to find myself hitting Logan's solid body behind me.

I'm trapped between the two men who've shaped my misery.

“Where the hell have you been?!” My father barks. “Your mother has been asking for you for hours."

"I didn't know. No one called—"

"Don't lie to me!" His voice rises again, and several nurses glance our way nervously.

My father doesn't notice or doesn't care, but his voice lowers. "You've been too busy playing Luna to care about your own mother. Too busy enjoying the position you stole from your sister!"

"That's enough Ronan," Logan's voice cuts in, but there's no warmth in his defense. "We came as soon as we heard."

“As soon as you heard?” My father scoffs. “I sent word three hours ago. But I suppose the message wasn't important enough to interrupt whatever Luna Katherine was doing."

The way he says my fake name is filled with hatred all directed at me. My father has always known exactly how to wound me. It's a skill he has mastered over twenty-two years of making it clear that I am the daughter he never wanted. The mistake he should have gotten rid of when he had the chance to do so at my birth.

“Dad I—” I find my voice, but Logan's fingers dig painfully into my elbow, serving as a clear warning to me to be silent.

"Eleanor didn't want Amelia to know about her condition," he says to my father, and the coldness in his voice freezes the blood in my veins. "She specifically requested me not inform Amelia until it's absolutely necessary."

"Can you blame her?” My father's expression twists into disgust, “Looking at this ungrateful slut means being reminded of what we lost after she seduced you and drove Katherine away.”

"I didn't—”

“You have the nerve to lie right now?” My father snarls, stepping closer. "You've always been jealous of Katherine and always wanted what was hers. And the moment you had the chance, you took it. You stole her fiancé, her position, her life. You're nothing but a disgrace.”

The accusation slaps me hard across the face even though I've heard variations of it over a hundred times. The unfairness of it slaps me even harder. ‎How can I defend myself without any evidence revealing that Katherine orchestrated the entire disaster, that she'd been planning her escape and needed someone to be the scapegoat? 

‎

‎Katherine is out there somewhere living the freedom she craved, while I am here, suffocating under the pressure of her stolen identity. I can't defend myself. I have no evidence.

‎

‎So, I do what I've always done: I stay silent and absorb the blame. The pain of everything happening right now is so familiar it barely registers anymore.

It's just another bruise on top of layers of the old ones.

"This isn't helping Eleanor," Logan breaks the tension between me and my father. He releases my elbow, his hand falling away like he can't bear to touch me any longer. "Where's the doctor?”

As if summoned by the question, Dr. Morris emerges from my mother's ward. The same doctor who congratulated me on my pregnancy barely an hour ago. She sees us and looks at me with something that resembles pity.

"The next few hours are critical," Dr. Morris says quietly, her gaze moving between my father and Logan. "Her heart is extremely weak. The stress has been..."

She trails off, but my father finishes the sentence for her. "It's depression. Her depression has been killing her slowly for a year."

His eyes cut to me sharply in silent accusation. I look away.

"She's been asking for Luna Katherine," Dr. Morris continues softly, smiling warmly at me. "Perhaps seeing her daughter will give her something to fight for."

My father's face hardens. “Alright.”

“I'll check back in a couple minutes later,” Dr. Morris nods and leaves us to attend to her other duties.

My father grabs my arm.

“Listen you termite,” he starts in a warning tone, “I'm only allowing you in there because she demanded to see you, even though you're a fake. Don't upset her. Understand?”

“Yes Father,” I nod, knowing that I'm not the one who matters here. I'm just the placeholder, the substitute.

I'm the victim here, but some victims don't get to claim their victimhood when everyone has already decided they're the villain.