2025-08-26 16:37:29Lana didn’t sleep.
She sat curled on the velvet settee in her massive room, her knees drawn tight to her chest, the fire casting long, restless shadows across the walls. She hadn’t taken her eyes off the mirror. Not since she saw the girl. Not since she saw herself. But younger. Smaller. Almost translucent, like a figure from a dream pressed against the glass. And then—gone. She had checked the mirror again. Twice. Tapped the edges. Turned the lights on and off. Stared into her own reflection until her eyes burned. Nothing. Just herself now. But it wasn’t a hallucination. She knew what she saw. It wasn’t a trick of the light or a sliver of imagination running wild. That girl had looked exactly like her. Not just in appearance, but in the way her head tilted, the way her lips trembled like they were holding in a scream. She’d looked scared. Terrified. As if she were the ghost. Or Lana was. A sharp knock at the door jolted her. She stood quickly, but her feet felt numb. Heavy. She opened the door halfway—and there he was. Grey. Still wearing the same dark shirt, sleeves rolled at the wrist, a file clutched under one arm. He looked like he hadn’t slept in years. “You said you saw something,” he said. Not a question. Not alarmed. Just—calm. Controlled. Lana hesitated. “There was a girl. In the mirror.” “Describe her.” “Young. Same face as mine. Same eyes. She looked like…” She trailed off, swallowing hard. “Like me. But not me.” Grey’s expression didn’t change. Not visibly. But his grip on the folder in his arm tightened. “I’m not crazy,” she said defensively. “I never said you were.” “Then what’s happening?” Her voice rose. “Why am I seeing things? Who is she?” Grey walked in without waiting for permission and shut the door behind him. He crossed the room and laid the folder on the table beside the bed. “How old did she look?” “Six. Maybe seven.” He nodded slowly. “What does that mean?” she asked. “Why does any of this feel like… like a memory I’ve never had?” He opened the file. A single photo sat at the top. Lana leaned forward—and her breath caught in her throat. It was her. At least, it looked like her. A small girl with wide grey eyes, standing beside a boy who looked eerily like a young Grey. They were dressed in matching outfits, holding hands in front of a white columned house with ivy growing up the walls. “Where did you get this?” she whispered. “It was in the records the family keeps. You and I were—” he hesitated, “—we were photographed together as children.” “That’s not possible.” “No,” Grey said evenly. “It’s just buried.” She stared at the photo. A memory scratched at the back of her mind. A song. A soft voice. A laugh that wasn’t hers. “I don’t remember this.” “You’re not supposed to.” Lana looked up sharply. “What does that mean?” “They’ve done this before,” Grey said, his voice lower now. “Erased people. Changed names. Split families. For control. For inheritance. For reasons that probably made sense to monsters in suits a long time ago.” “So you think…” she faltered. “You think we’re related?” He didn’t answer. But his silence was louder than anything else in the room. “We’re supposed to be getting married,” she said. “Don’t you see how twisted that is?” Grey stared at the photo, jaw rigid. “I didn’t know when the letter came,” he finally said. “Not for sure. But when I saw you… I started remembering things I didn’t know I’d forgotten.” Lana stepped back, the fire behind her casting her shadow tall across the wall. “This can’t be real.” He looked at her then—really looked. “Do you remember a name?” “What?” “A name. A place. A song. Anything.” “I don’t—” She stopped. Her lips parted. A sound echoed in her head like an old lullaby, one she hadn’t thought about in years. It was quiet, rhythmic, the kind of melody a nursemaid might hum. One line drifted into her mind like fog. Alana Rose and Grey at play… Hide and seek and run away… She gasped. Her knees buckled slightly, and Grey stepped forward on instinct, catching her elbow. “Are you alright?” he asked, his voice gentler now. “I know that rhyme,” she whispered. “I used to hear it. In my dreams. I thought it was nothing. Just… nonsense.” His hand dropped slowly from her arm. “It’s not.” They stared at each other for a long moment, and the silence between them wasn’t empty anymore. It was full of broken memories. Ghosts. Names they weren’t meant to say aloud. Finally, Lana took a shaky breath and looked away. “If this is true… then why would they force us to marry?” “I don’t know yet,” Grey said. “But I’m going to find out.” He moved back toward the file, flipping to the final page. Her birth certificate. Redacted. Same as his. Lana stared at it. “They’ve erased everything.” “Not everything.” He tapped the bottom corner of the paper where faded ink scrawled something handwritten. She leaned closer. Only together will they remember. Her heart thudded. “What does that mean?” Grey didn’t answer right away. He simply stared at the paper like it held a map neither of them had the key to. Suddenly, the fire behind her flickered—no, flared, high and sharp, like a gust of wind had passed through the chimney. But the windows were shut. Grey looked up, alert. Lana turned, her pulse quickening. In the mirror across the room, something shifted again. A shadow. Small. Faint. And this time, there were two children. Standing side by side. Both with grey eyes. Both staring back. Lana spun around. The room was empty. She turned back to the mirror—but they were gone. Grey was already moving toward it, his expression darkening. “They’re not just memories anymore,” he muttered. Lana gripped the edge of the bed. “What are they?” Grey turned toward her, his eyes unreadable. “Warnings.”
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Chapter Nineteen : The House That Shouldn’t Breathe
The morning came with a sky the color of pewter. The air was heavy, not with rain, but with the strange kind of stillness that makes the world feel as though it’s holding its breath.Lana stood at the edge of the gravel drive, the estate behind her, a small travel satchel clutched in one hand. Grey was already at the motorcar, inspecting the straps that held their supplies. His movements were deliberate, his expression unreadable.“You’re sure we can’t wait another day?” she asked, pulling her coat tighter against the chill.His glance was brief but decisive. “Every day we wait is another day someone else might find what we’re looking for.”She almost said, And another day I could pretend this wasn’t happening. But instead, she stepped into the passenger seat.The road to Willowmarch was long and uneven, flanked by thick woods that grew denser the farther they drove. The bare branches seemed to claw at the sky, and every now and then the shadow of a crow passed over the windshield.“H
Chapter Eighteen – Shadows in the Silver
The rain had stopped by evening, leaving the Thompson estate wrapped in a damp hush. The air smelled faintly of moss and wet stone, and the last of the storm clouds dragged themselves away across a bruised sky. In the library, firelight cast a low amber glow over the walls, where the leather-bound books stood in regimented silence.Lana sat on the edge of the chaise, her knees drawn slightly together, fingers curled around the delicate stem of a wineglass she’d barely touched. Across from her, Grey leaned against the mantel, the flames painting his profile in shifting light. Between them, resting on the low table, lay the locket.She hadn’t expected him to bring it out again. Since finding it that morning, he had kept it close, as though the small tarnished thing could burn him if left unattended.“It’s old,” she said softly, almost to herself. “Older than you, older than me… but it feels alive somehow.”Grey’s gaze didn’t leave the locket. “It was my mother’s. She never spoke much ab
Chapter Seventeen : Shadows Between Us
The rain had passed in the night, leaving the Thompson estate washed in a pale, reluctant dawn. Mist curled low over the lawns, clinging to the edges of the hedgerows like it feared to let go. Somewhere beyond the eastern wing, the river whispered faintly, its steady rhythm a contrast to the taut silence between them.Lana had been up before sunrise. She told herself it was the damp air that kept her from sleeping, but in truth, it was the weight of unspoken thoughts. The locket, and what it might mean, still pulsed at the edges of her mind — but she had resolved not to think about it. Not now. Not yet. She needed a day where the past didn’t have its claws in her.Grey was already in the breakfast room when she arrived, his posture sharp even in casual clothes. A silver coffee pot steamed on the table between them. He didn’t look up immediately; instead, he tapped the edge of his cup, the sound precise, deliberate.“You were awake early,” she said, settling opposite him.His gaze flic
Chapter Sixteen – Echoes in the Stillness
The first light of morning spilled through the heavy velvet curtains, a pale gold that softened the cold edges of the Thompson estate. Outside, the grounds were still slick with last night’s rain, the air sharp and clean, as though the storm had scoured away every trace of dust and sound.Lana stood by the tall window, her hands cupped around the porcelain warmth of her tea. She could still smell the faint trace of woodsmoke on her clothes from the cabin — that single, flickering fire they had kept through the long hours of thunder and wind. It was strange, how quickly the world could change. One night of isolation, of whispered words and careful silences, and now they were back inside walls lined with chandeliers and old oil paintings that seemed to watch her every move.She heard the faint creak of the door behind her and didn’t need to turn to know it was Grey. There was something distinct about his presence — not just the sound of his footsteps, but the way the air seemed to tight
Chapter Fifteen: Storms
The storm had only deepened through the night. Rain lashed against the warped cabin walls in relentless sheets, each gust of wind making the timbers groan. Inside, the air smelled faintly of damp wood and smoke from the struggling fire in the small stone hearth.Lana sat on the low bench beside it, rubbing her chilled hands together. Her damp skirt clung to her knees, the hem heavy from the downpour. Grey stood near the doorway, his shoulders filling the space as he looked out into the blackness beyond the warped frame. The light from the hearth cast his profile in bronze and shadow.“You’re shivering,” he said, his voice low but cutting through the storm.“I’m fine,” she lied, though her fingers trembled.He crossed the small room, the floorboards creaking under his weight, and shrugged off his heavy coat. “You’ll wear this,” he said, draping it over her shoulders before she could protest. It was warm, smelling faintly of cedar and something darker—him. She swallowed hard, feeling th
Chapter Fourteen: The Letter
The name hit Grey like a blow to the ribs.His mother had been dead for over a decade. He’d stood over her casket, felt the cold finality of the moment. So either this was an elaborate game, or someone had just detonated the past in his face.The man didn’t wait for an invitation. He stepped inside, closing the door softly behind him as if he already belonged in the room. His shoes didn’t even squeak on the marble — expensive leather, broken in. Everything about him spoke of precision.“I was told,” the man said, “to deliver this directly into your hands. And to tell you — you’d know the truth when you read it.”Grey took the envelope but didn’t open it. His eyes stayed locked on the man. “And who told you that?”“I already answered that.” The stranger’s gaze flicked briefly toward Lana. “I wasn’t informed you’d have company.”Lana didn’t move from the doorway, but the weight of his look pressed on her like a hand on the back of her neck.“Maybe you should tell us your name,” she said
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