Chapter Three

It had been two days since she had been released from the ward at Hale's estate and two days since her life returned semi back to normal. And it turns out that despite the swarm of reporters that surrounded the estate for those two days, none of them actually saw her face nor knew who she was. They just knew she had been receiving treatment there but she was kept anonymous from the public eye.

The apartment was exactly as they’d left it: cracked paint, the faint smell of linseed oil from her unfinished portraits, the tiny window that leaked whenever it rained. But now, even the familiar things felt strange—like props from a life that no longer belonged to her.

Light rain tapped softly on the windowpane, slipping down in crooked lines.The hum of the city below was distant tonight, as if it had decided to move on without her.She sat at the small dining table with her sketchbook open, though she hadn’t drawn a single line in hours. Beside it lay a pile of unpaid bills — hospital statements,rent reminders,her brother’s medication receipts.The corners curled upward from how many times she’d held them, hoping the numbers would somehow shrink.

Across from her, Eli leaned back in the armchair, one arm slung around his ribs, watching her with quiet worry. He looked thinner since the hospital, the gray in his skin deeper.

“The nurse called earlier today. She said they couldn't continue my treatment” he said softly. “Said until the next payment clears, there’s nothing they can do.”

Lena pressed her palms against her eyes. “I’ll find a way.”

“You always say that.” His voice cracked.

“And every time, it costs you more than it should.”

The silence stretched. Somewhere outside, a car splashed through a puddle, headlights sweeping across the damp walls before fading again.

Eli hesitated. “That man. Damon Hale. He’s not calling again, is he?”

Her hand froze above the sketchbook.

“No,” she said, though the envelope sitting on the counter said otherwise. She could still hear his voice from two nights ago;

“You want your brother’s bills gone? You want the truth buried? Then sign the contract, Miss Rowan. You’ll be helping both of us.”

Lena rose slowly and crossed to the counter.The envelope was still there, pressed flat beneath a chipped mug.It looked like any ordinary piece of mail but it wasn’t. She hated that her brother had gotten involved in this.She picked it up.

Eli’s voice followed her. “You’re not actually thinking about it are you?”

She didn’t answer.The seal broke with a soft tear, and the papers slid out—perfectly crisp,her name typed at the top in clean black letters.

Lena Rowan agrees to assume the temporary legal identity of Amara Duchess Wren for a period of six months...

The rest blurred before her eyes.She sank into a chair, fingers trembling as she flipped to the signature line. Beneath it, Damon’s name already signed glared back at her in finality.

“Lena.”

She looked up. Eli was watching her from across the room, his expression a mixture of fear and disbelief. “This isn’t you. You don’t belong in his world.”

“I don’t belong anywhere,” she whispered. “Not with the press calling me a criminal, not with people like him deciding my future before I even speak.”

“But no one knows it's you.You were protected from the public eye. There's still time to–”

Her hands shook harder. “I’m tired, Eli. I’m tired of waiting for something good to happen on its own.”

The pen moved before she could stop it, slicing her name across the page in one trembling stroke.

Eli’s voice came out broken. “You just sold yourself.”

She set the pen down carefully as if it might break if she did it any other way.

“You have to get better. We need the money.”

___

By morning,her phone rang. A woman’s voice laced with professionalism came through.

“Miss Rowan? This is Clara Vale, Mr Hale’s assistant. A car will pick you up in one hour. Don’t pack much. Everything you’ll need is being prepared at the estate.”

Lena’s fingers tightened around the phone. “The estate?”

“Yes,” Clara said. “You’ll begin orientation today.”

The line went dead before Lena could ask what that meant.She stood there for a long time, staring at her reflection in the cracked mirror by the door. Her hair was unbrushed, her eyes hollow, her skin looked too pale.

In one hour, she would stop being herself.

___

Eli was on the couch again,his blanket pooled around his legs,his face half-shadowed by the weak morning light when a knock came at their apartment door. The muted TV flickered with static. When Lena didn’t move, he glanced up. “Who is it?”

The knock came again, firmer this time.

Lena opened the door to find two people waiting: a tall woman with her hair wound tight into a bun and a driver in a dark suit standing behind her.The woman’s face was unreadable. She held an umbrella over her head even though it had stopped raining a while ago.

“Miss Rowan?” Lena nodded.

“I’m Clara Vale. Mr. Hale sent us to escort you to the estate. We’ll handle your luggage.”

“I don’t really have—”

Clara was already stepping past her into the apartment, eyes sweeping the place without comment. “We’ll provide everything necessary,” she said. “Please be ready in five minutes.”

Eli stood now, his expression tightening. “She’s not going anywhere.”

“Eli we talked about this–”

“No, Lena. You can’t do this.” He turned to Clara.“Tell your boss to find another girl to ruin.”

Clara answered,unfazed.“Mr. Hale doesn’t ruin people, Mr. Rowan. He gives them opportunities.”

Eli’s laugh was hollow “Is that what you call it? Opportunity?”

Lena stepped between them. “Stop. Both of you.”

She turned to Eli “Please don’t make this harder than it already is.”

He stared at her, disbelief bleeding into desperation. “You don’t have to go, Len? We’ll figure it out. I’ll get a job. We can move—”

“Move where?” she snapped, then instantly regretted it. Her voice cracked. “We don’t have anything left, Eli. Not money. Not options. You need treatment, and I can’t keep pretending it’ll magically fix itself.”

He swallowed hard. “So what — you’re just going to live with him? Pretend to be his fiancée like nothing happened?”

Lena looked away. The truth hurt more than she’d imagined. “It’s not like that.”

“Then what is it?” His voice was small now. “Because it looks a lot like you’re selling yourself.”

Her lips parted, but no words came.

For a moment, all she could hear was the slow drip from the kitchen tap and the low patter of rain drops.

Finally, she whispered, “You have to get better.”

Eli’s eyes glistened. “Don’t say that. Don’t make this about me.”

She stepped closer, trying to touch his shoulder, but he pulled back.

“I won’t be leaving with you Len,” he said softly. “If you walk out that door, don’t expect me to come with you.”

The words hit her like a punch. She froze, her breath catching, but Clara was already clearing her throat politely behind her.

“Miss Rowan,” she said, “the car is ready.”

She blinked hard and turned back to her brother. “Please… just stay safe, okay?”

He didn’t reply. He just sank back into the couch, his face turned toward the window, pretending not to see her leave.

---

The car ride blurred into silence.

Clara sat across from her, typing briskly on a tablet. Every now and then, Lena caught her reflection in the tinted glass — pale, nervous, a ghost of herself. She had been a lot happier three weeks ago when she never met Amara.

When they finally stopped, the gate loomed ahead, flanked by security guards in sleek black uniforms.

“Welcome to your new home,” Clara said.