CHAPTER 2

I stared at the silver pendant resting in my palm, my heart growing heavier; I could never mistake it for another one it was exactly what I had gifted Aiden and I left it there. So why was it back in my room?

I turned it over, searching for something that might explain how it had found its way back to me. My mind raced through every possibility, but none of them made sense.

Had Aiden returned it? And if he had, why leave it with that note?

I turned the pendant over in my palm, and then I noticed the difference. The tiny mark I had engraved on Aiden’s gift was missing, it looked exactly like the one I had given him, but it wasn’t the same pendant.

Someone had made a copy, but who?

Seraphina's name wasn't written anywhere on the paper, yet her face was the first thing that came to my mind. I remembered the way she looked at me, the things she said, and how easily she could make me feel as though I had no right to be in my own home.

But a suspicion wasn't proof. I knew that much, even with my thoughts running in a hundred different directions.

Whoever had planned this knew something about me. They knew where I would look, what I might discover, and perhaps even how I would react.

My fingers tightened around the pendant. And for a moment, I considered throwing it away. I wanted to be free of the questions it brought with it, but something stopped me.

This object meant something deeper that I think, I had a feeling that I would regret losing it.

I reached for the small jewellery box on my dressing table and slipped the pendant inside, hiding it beneath the other pieces. Then I locked the box and pushed it into the back of my drawer.

I would find out who had left it. A bitter laugh escaped my lips.

Look at me, making plans when I didn't even know whom I could trust.

My gaze drifted towards the framed photograph beside my bed, it was one of the few pictures I had left of my father. He stood in the middle, smiling in that familiar way I remembered so well, while I stood beside him with my arms wrapped around his waist.

He had been the one person who made me feel safe, who didn’t see me weak, he saw me and always told me I had potentials I may never know about, well he was wrong.

Before he died, I never imagined that I would spend so much of my life feeling like a stranger in my own home. I thought he would always be there to protect me from anything that wanted to hurt me.

But he was gone, and the woman he had married was still here.

Mrs. Vera, my stepmother, when I was five years old, I was told I lost my mom, ever since then my father had always been depressed. But then came Mrs. Vera, she claimed to be in love with my father as though she already had a daughter who I senior with two months. My dad loved her so much and married her when I was eleven years.

He treated me and Seraphina Mrs. Vera daughter equally, everything began to go as place, but my step mother never loved me, she only acted well when my dad was around, I never told him because seeing him happy was enough for me.

Then finally he died and I was being treated like a slave in my own home. Even thinking about her made my stomach tighten.

I looked away from the photograph and wiped the tears gathering in my eyes, I was tired of crying, tired of questioning myself, and tired of pretending that everything was fine whenever someone looked in my direction.

I wanted answers, and more than anything, I wanted to understand how my life had become something I could barely recognise.

"Amelia!"

My body stiffened. I didn't need to turn around to know who that voice belonged to.

"Amelia!" Mrs. Vera called again, her voice sharper this time. "Are you deaf? How many times must I call your name before you decide to answer?"

I quickly wiped my face and turned towards the door, it swung open before I could say anything.

She stood in the doorway with one hand resting on her waist, her perfectly styled hair framed her face, and her expensive dress looked untouched by even the smallest wrinkle. She had always taken pride in her appearance, as though looking flawless mattered more than how she treated the people around her.

Her eyes travelled over me, and her lips twisted in disgust.

"Look at you," she muttered. "Sitting in this room like a useless piece of furniture while everyone else has things to do."

I lowered my gaze "Good afternoon, Ma."

"Don't use that sweet voice with me. You know very well that I cannot stand it."

I pressed my lips together "What did I do now?"

The moment the question left my mouth, I regretted asking it, she stepped further into the room.

"What did you do?" she repeated, letting out a humourless laugh. "You have the audacity to ask me that after everything? Do you think this house is a charity home? Do you think you can sit around all day, eating food you didn't pay for and occupying space you have done nothing to deserve?"

My throat tightened, I had heard these words before. Sometimes they came when I made a mistake. Other times, they came when I did absolutely nothing.

It never mattered, she always found a reason to bark.

"I'm sorry," I whispered.

"Sorry for what?" she snapped "You don't even know what you're apologising for. That's your problem, Amelia; you have no sense of humor, no ambition, and no idea how the world works."

I looked at the floor, trying to keep my expression steady.

If I answered, she would accuse me of being disrespectful, and if I remained silent, she would say I was being stubborn.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you!"

I lifted my head immediately.

"Better." She folded her arms "now, I want you to go downstairs and make yourself useful. There are things that need to be done, and I will not have you hiding in here all afternoon."

"I was just trying to…"

"Trying to what?" she interrupted "Trying to become important? Trying to make everyone feel sorry for you? Your father is gone, Amelia. You need to stop behaving as though the entire world owes you something because you lost him."

The words struck a place inside me that I had spent years trying to protect.

My father, she had brought him into the conversation again.

I could accept her insults about my appearance, I could endure the way she treated me as though I were an unwanted burden. But whenever she spoke about my father, it felt as though she was reaching into the one part of my life I couldn't bear to lose.

"Please don't talk about him like that," I said quietly.

Her expression suddenly changed.

For a moment, I thought she might have heard the pain in my voice, perhaps she would remember that I was the daughter of the man she had once claimed to love.

Instead, she laughed.

"Your father is dead, Amelia, dead as in gone. And no amount of crying will bring him back."

My eyes burned "I know that."

"Then start acting like it. You cannot keep using his memory as an excuse for everything, he left you in my care, and you should be grateful that I have allowed you to remain under this roof."

Grateful! The word almost made me laugh.

The same woman who had called me a burden in my own home, well the only mistake my father made was putting her name as the supposed owner of the property in his will.

And now she expected gratitude because she hadn't thrown me out. I couldn't afford another argument with her, not today after everything I had been through.

"Go downstairs," she ordered "And don't let me find you wasting time again."

She turned towards the door, and then stopped.

"One more thing."

I looked up giving her a confused look.

"Whatever trouble you have managed to get yourself into, do not bring it to my doorstep. I have enough problems without having to deal with your foolishness."

My heart skipped, for one brief moment, I wondered whether she knew about the pendant.

Had she seen it?

Had someone told her what happened?

I forced myself to remain calm.

"What trouble are you talking about?"

She stared at me for a second, her eyes narrowing as though she were trying to decide whether I was being deliberately difficult.

"Don't play games with me," she said. "I know you better than you think."

Then she walked out, shutting the door behind her.

I remained where I was, listening to her footsteps fade down the corridor.

I hated that she could still make me feel so small. I hated that even after everything she had said, I was the one left wondering whether I had done something wrong.

But something else bothered me more, her final words kept repeating in my mind.

“I know you better than you think.”

What did she mean by that?

Was it just another threat, or had she heard something about what happened?

My gaze shifted towards the drawer where I had hidden the pendant.

For the first time since finding it, I wondered whether keeping it in this house was a mistake.

I crossed the room and locked the drawer, even though I knew the lock wouldn't stop anyone determined to search through my belongings.

Then I looked at my father's photograph again.

"I wish you were here," I whispered.

The room remained silent; I took one last breath, wiped my face, and headed towards the door. I had no choice but to face whatever awaited me downstairs.

But as I reached for the handle, a thought stopped me, what if the person who planned everything wasn't trying to hurt me?

What if they were trying to warn me about someone who had been standing beside me all along?

I glanced back at the drawer. The pendant had brought me questions I couldn't answer, and Vera's strange reaction had only given me more reasons to be afraid.

I didn't know whom to trust not my sister or my step mom, not even Aiden and certainly not the mysterious person who had left that note.

But one thing was certain. I was going to find out the truth, even if the truth destroyed everything I thought I knew about my family.