They were wrapped in each other’s arms, locked in a passionate kiss, oblivious to the world around them. Henry’s hands were tangled in Elena’s hair, and Elena’s fingers clutched the lapels of Henry’s jacket as they kissed like it was the only thing that mattered.
Clara’s stomach twisted in shock, her mind racing to process what she was seeing. Elena and Henry—siblings—were kissing, lost in each other in a way that went far beyond anything familial. It was intimate, passionate, and utterly wrong.
Her breath hitched in her throat, and she quickly stepped back, her heart pounding with the realization of the scandal unfolding before her eyes. She covered her mouth with her hand, trying to quiet the gasp that threatened to escape.
This can’t be real.
But it was. Clara stood frozen, unable to move, watching the secret lovers entwined before her.
Clara’s heart pounded in her chest as she took a step back, her mind still reeling from what she had just witnessed. She tried to move silently, desperate to escape before Elena and Henry realized she had seen them, but her foot landed on a loose rock, and it shifted with a crunch under her heel.
The sound was enough to catch their attention.
Both Elena and Henry broke apart, startled, their eyes wide with fear and shock as they turned toward Clara. In the dim light of the maze, Clara saw the panic flash across their faces. They had been caught.
“Clara…” Elena whispered, her voice trembling as she took a hesitant step toward her.
Clara’s stomach twisted as she locked eyes with them, unsure of what to say, what to feel. Her mind was a whirlwind of confusion and disgust. She had seen them—really seen them—and now there was no going back. She needed to leave. She needed to get away from this. But her body refused to move, frozen in place as the weight of their secret pressed down on her.
Before she could turn to flee, both Elena and Henry started walking toward her, clearly terrified of what she might say—or worse, what she might do.
“Wait!” Elena called, reaching out as Clara took another shaky step back.
Clara finally found her voice, but it was small, barely a whisper. “What… what was that? What did I just see?”
Elena’s face paled, her eyes darting to Henry in a silent plea for help, but he stood frozen, his expression unreadable. Clara’s pulse quickened, her eyes narrowing as she looked at Henry. She could feel the sting of betrayal rising in her throat, the words spilling out before she could stop herself.
“Henry… is she the girl you told me about? The one you said you were in love with?”
Henry’s face darkened, the weight of his confession hanging between them. His silence felt like a confirmation, but after a moment, he finally nodded, his jaw clenched. “Yes,” he admitted quietly, avoiding her gaze.
Clara felt her heart drop, the realization of the depth of their relationship hitting her like a punch to the gut. She had never imagined this. Henry had told her he was in love with someone, but she had never guessed it was Elena—his own sister. Her head swam with the impossible weight of the situation, but she couldn’t speak. She felt frozen, her mouth dry, words failing her.
Elena took a step closer, her voice gentle and pleading. “Clara, please… let me explain.”
Clara shook her head, her mind still racing. How could she explain this? What possible explanation could make this right?
But Elena was determined, her hands trembling as she started to speak. “Henry and I… we didn’t know who we were at first. We didn’t know we were related when it all began.” Her voice wavered with emotion as she continued, her eyes pleading for Clara to understand. “We met in Moscow. I was thirteen, and Henry was fourteen. I was on a school field trip at a museum, and Henry was there touring the city with his cousins.”
Clara’s mind reeled, trying to process the information, but it was so far removed from anything she could have imagined. She couldn’t speak. She couldn’t even breathe properly as Elena kept going, her words spilling out in a rush.
“We… we got close. But I didn’t tell him who I was. I didn’t want him to know I was the bastard daughter of a an american millionaire. He also lied about who he was, I didn’t even know him as Henry Caldwell—he never told me he was a millionaire heir as well. We lied to each other about who we were, and by the time we found out the truth… it was too late.”
Clara swallowed hard, her throat dry, still speechless. Her mind kept flashing back to the image of them kissing in the maze, how intense and desperate it had seemed.
Elena’s voice softened, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “When our father found out about us… he tried everything to end it. He revealed his affair with my mother to the whole family, thinking it would drive us apart. He thought telling the world about me would be enough to keep us away from each other.”
Henry, who had been silent until now, finally spoke, his voice low and filled with bitterness. “But it wasn’t. Nothing was. Nothing ever will.”
Clara’s heart pounded in her chest. This couldn’t be real. This can’t be happening.
“Clara,” Elena pleaded, taking another step closer, her eyes filled with desperation. “It’s stronger than us. We’ve tried to stop, but we can’t. We love each other. We weren’t raised like… You know.”
Clara felt her head spinning. She couldn’t process the weight of the confession, couldn’t make sense of what she was hearing. How could they live with this? How could they keep this secret buried for so long?
Before Clara could find the words to respond, Henry glanced at his watch, the tension in his face hardening. “I need to get back to the party,” he muttered, his voice cold and detached, as if the weight of their secret was nothing compared to his social obligations. Without another word, he turned and disappeared into the shadows, leaving Elena standing alone in front of Clara.
Elena’s eyes filled with tears as she looked at Clara, her vulnerability exposed. “Please… say something.”
Clara stood there, still in shock, her thoughts spinning in a thousand different directions. "But… he’s your brother," she finally managed to say, her voice barely above a whisper. "How could you…?"
Elena’s face darkened at Clara’s words, her eyes narrowing in anger. “And who the hell are you to judge, huh? Miss Uncle Fucker?”
Clara froze, her heart slamming into her chest. For a moment, the world seemed to tilt on its axis as the words hung in the air between them. She couldn’t process that Elena had just said that—had just hinted at something Clara thought was hidden so deeply. Her stomach twisted, panic rising in her throat.
“What… what are you talking about?” Clara stammered, trying to maintain composure, but her voice shook.
Elena’s lip curled into a sneer, her anger now fully ignited. “Cut the bullshit, Clara. You think no one notices? You practically freaked out when Mr. Belfort arrived with that model on his arm. And then you both disappeared for half the night, and now you come back looking all flushed and breathless.” Elena crossed her arms, her gaze piercing. “Do you really think I’m stupid?”
Clara felt like the ground was falling out from under her. She had no idea Elena had been watching her so closely, had seen through her careful facade. The realization hit her like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, she could barely breathe. It was as if the air had been sucked from the maze, leaving her vulnerable and exposed.
“I…” Clara started, but her voice faltered. She couldn’t deny it—couldn’t lie, not when Elena had pieced it together so clearly. Her pulse quickened, and she glanced down, avoiding Elena’s accusatory gaze. All she could manage was a weak defense, something she barely believed herself. “He’s not… we’re not blood-related.”
Elena’s laugh was harsh, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “And that makes it okay? So what? You think your little secret is better than mine? Please… It looks just as bad, honey, he’s old enough to be your father.”
Clara’s throat tightened as Elena’s words sank in. The weight of the truth, the ugliness of their respective secrets, hung heavy in the air between them. Both of them—both of them—were trapped in something forbidden, something dangerous, something that could ruin everything if anyone found out.
For the first time in a long while, Clara didn’t have a response. She didn’t know how to defend herself. Elena was right, and the realization that she had no moral high ground here left her feeling hollow.
Clara’s mind raced as the truth of their situations settled in: she wasn’t any better than Elena. In fact, she might even be worse, pretending to be disgusted by what she saw while hiding a scandal of her own.
Elena’s voice softened slightly, her anger giving way to something else—an unspoken understanding. “You think it’s easy for me? You think I don’t know how messed up this is?” she said, her eyes searching Clara’s. “I know it’s wrong. I know people would judge us, just like you did. But it’s stronger than us… just like whatever’s going on between you and your uncle.”
Clara’s heart pounded in her chest, a mix of guilt and shame rising inside her. She felt exposed, not just by Elena’s words, but by the truth she’d been denying to herself for so long. The truth that, despite everything, she couldn’t walk away from Adrian—just like Elena couldn’t walk away from Henry.
Clara looked up at Elena, her voice barely above a whisper. “So… what now?”
Elena sighed, the fire in her eyes dimming. “Now, we live with it. We keep our secrets… and hope no one else finds out.”