Blood and Mirrors

Olivia could feel her heartbeat in her throat as she sat in the white, cold waiting room of the clinic. The walls seemed to close in around her. The hum of the air conditioner was the only sound, steady and sharp like a knife in the silence.

On her lap was a thick white envelope. Inside it were the DNA results that could make her trust Ethan or not. Her fingers pressed tightly on the edge of the paper, but she couldn’t open it. Not yet.

She remembered the look on Jessica’s face when she had last spoken to her. The smirk. The words whispered like poison.

“What if Ethan is the father, Olivia? What if he is mine as much as yours?”

The thought had burned inside her ever since. Ethan had denied it, yes. But doubt had a cruel way of planting itself in the heart. Olivia needed truth. She needed proof.

“Mrs. Henderson?” The nurse’s soft voice broke her thoughts.

Olivia jumped. “Yes?”

The nurse held a small smile. “You can use the private room if you want to read in peace.”

Olivia nodded and stood, her legs heavy, her chest tight. She followed the nurse down the hall until she was alone inside a small quiet office. A lamp glowed on the desk, the only light in the room. She sat, staring at the envelope.

Open it. Just open it.

Her hands shook as she tore the flap. Her eyes scanned the page. At first, the words blurred, but slowly, the line became clear.

Probability of paternity: 0%.

Olivia gasped. Ethan was not the father.

The relief was sharp, almost painful. Tears stung her eyes. Jessica had lied. All those months of control, faked illness, all the guilt Ethan carried, it was all built on a lie.

But almost as quickly as relief came, another thought followed. If Ethan wasn’t the father… then who was?

Her stomach twisted. This wasn’t only about lies anymore. It was about secrets. Dangerous ones.

She folded the paper back into the envelope and stuffed it into her bag. Her first thought was of Ethan. He needed to know. He deserved to see the truth for himself.

Ethan was waiting when she returned home. He stood by the fireplace, his shoulders tense, his eyes searching hers the moment she walked in.

“You got the results?” His voice was low, controlled, tensed, but she could hear the storm beneath it.

Olivia nodded. She pulled the envelope from her bag and handed it to him. “Read it.”

His hands trembled as he opened it. His eyes scanned quickly, then froze. She saw the shock, the disbelief, the anger. His lips moved but no words came at first. Then, finally, in a whisper:

“It’s not mine.”

Olivia sat beside him. “No, Ethan. It’s not.”

He sank onto the couch, burying his face in his hands. “All this time… I let her trap me. I let her guilt control me. I thought…” His voice broke. “I thought I owed her.”

Olivia touched his arm gently. “She lied to you. It’s not your fault.”

He looked up, his eyes dark. “But she won’t stop, Olivia. Jessica doesn’t know how to let go.”

As if his words called her, Olivia’s phone buzzed. A new message. Her stomach dropped when she saw the name.

Jessica.

The text was simple, but it froze Olivia’s blood.

“You think a piece of paper changes anything? Ethan was mine before he was yours. And if you think I’ll let go, you don’t know me at all.”

Olivia’s hand trembled as she put the phone down. Jessica was not done.

Sleep was impossible that night. Ethan drifted off finally, exhaustion dragging him down, but Olivia lay awake, staring at the ceiling. Jessica’s words haunted her. You don’t know me at all.

In the silence of the night, Olivia rose from bed and wrapped her robe around her. The house was still, every shadow seeming to follow her as she walked down the hall.

Something pulled her toward the east wing of the house, the part she rarely entered. Her mother’s study waited there. The door had not been opened in years.

Her mother had always been a mystery, quiet, secretive, her eyes often filled with thoughts Olivia never understood.

Olivia pushed the door open slowly. The hinges creaked. Dust hung in the air. The smell of lavender and old paper greeted her.

Bookshelves lined the walls. Journals stacked neatly, untouched. A desk sat in the center, and in the corner stood a tall silver framed mirror.

Olivia stepped inside, running her fingers along the desk. She had a sudden sense she was trespassing.

A faint draft brushed against her skin. She frowned, glancing around. The windows were shut tight. She followed the breeze until she reached the mirror.

The silver glass seemed to shimmer faintly in the dim light. She pushed at it without thinking. To her shock, the mirror shifted.

Behind it was a narrow passage.

Olivia’s breath caught. Her heart raced as she squeezed through the opening.

The passage led to a hidden room. And when she entered, her breath froze in her chest.

Every wall was covered in mirrors. Tall, cracked, polished, warped, all kinds. They reflected her from every angle, dozens of Olivias staring back.

Candles, long burned down, lay scattered on the floor. Wax had melted in strange shapes. Symbols were scratched into the stone, circles and marks she didn’t understand.

In the center sat a low table with journals stacked upon it.

Her mother’s handwriting.

Olivia reached for one, her hands trembling. She opened it.

“The mirror sees what the eye cannot.”

“Blood binds the truth.”

“Jessica is dangerous. She will come for him. I must prepare Olivia.”

Olivia gasped. Jessica’s name. Written years ago. Long before any of this began.

Her mother had known.

She flipped to another page. Drawings of rituals. Notes about deception, curses, protection. The words were heavy with warning.

One line made her blood run cold:

“If Olivia ever finds this room, it means the danger has reached her. She must be careful of those closest to her. The enemy wears familiar faces.”

Olivia dropped the book. Her breath came fast. The mirrors around her seemed to shimmer, as if alive.

She turned and froze.

In one of the mirrors, her reflection was smiling. But she wasn’t.

Her heart slammed against her ribs. She stumbled back.

Then, in the warped glass, another figure appeared. A woman, standing behind her.

Dark hair. Sharp eyes. A cruel smile.

Jessica.

Olivia spun around. The room was empty. But in the mirror, Jessica remained, her smile widening.

The candles flickered violently. The shadows stretched long. And then came a whisper, soft but clear, echoing through the glass.

“You can’t hide from me, Olivia. Your mother couldn’t stop me. And neither will you.”

The mirrors rattled as if something inside them wanted to break free.

Olivia bolted through the passage, slamming the mirror closed behind her. She leaned against the wall, gasping for air, her hands shaking.

She knew one thing now, one truth that chilled her to the bone:

Jessica’s power was more than lies. More than manipulation.

It was something darker. Something her mother had tried to fight.

And now, it was coming for her.