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  Something creaked open.
    I wasn’t sure if it was the door or a drawer, but I felt the subtle shift in the air, the tug at the edges of the room. Then, without warning, a burst of brightness spilled through my closed lids, painting the back of my eyes in a blinding orange hue.
    My face tensed, and my eyes squinted instinctively, trying to protect themselves from the light.
    But the curtains… they were open now. The light streaming in was soft but persistent.
    “Good morning, ma’am,” a familiar voice said gently.
    Then a warm hand settled against my forehead pressing gently across my skin, as though checking for a fever. The gesture was so careful it made something ache inside me.
    My lashes fluttered as I fought the pull of sleep. My eyes opening slowly, adjusting to the soft glow of daylight.
    crouched beside me was lucy.
    The sight of her made something inside me loosen. Her round face, slightly tired but full of concern, was framed by her brunette hair, now styled differently. Shorter. She had bangs now, resting across her forehead in a way that softened her features even more. She looked older somehow, maybe just from worry, but she was still Lucy.
    She was dressed in a fitted brown turtleneck sweater, sleeves rolled slightly past her wrists. The earth-toned fabric hugged her arms, making her seem more grounded, more solid than everything else around me that felt like it could slip away.
    “Lucy…” I croaked.
    She gave me a soft nod. “Ma’am, you should rest,” she said gently, her voice filled with care. “You’re still not well.”
    I tried to sit up, but the effort made my head spin tilting the room slightly. My arm gave out.
    “You’re back,” I whispered instead, helplessly sinking back into the pillows.
    “I’m back, ma’am,” she said again, firmer this time. Her hand didn’t leave my forehead.
    Then her eyes darted toward the door. Her body shifted slightly, subtly, like someone who didn’t want to be overheard. She leaned in closer until I could feel her breath brush against the side of my face.
    “Your husband…”
    She paused as her voice dropped.
    “I heard what happened,” she whispered, glancing toward the door again. “I’m so sorry for the whole inconvenience. I know this place… I know it hasn’t been easy for you.”
    I swallowed hard, the lump in my throat forming fast. My chest ached, not from fever but from frustration.
    “Oh, Lucy…” I barely breathed out her name, my voice cracking.
    She pressed her lips into a thin line, eyes filled with sympathy. “I’m sorry, ma’am. But… did you see the face of the person who came in?” She asked disengaging her hands from my forehead.
    My stomach turned as my mouth went dry.
    Did I?
    My mind scrambled to find the memory. I reached deep, trying to recall anything.
    But there was nothing. Just a hole. A terrifying, gaping hole where a memory should’ve been.
    “No…” I whispered, more to myself than to her. “I didn’t see them.”
    A sharp chill slid down my spine as the weight of the truth settled over me.
    Someone had walked into this estate. They’d touched me. Drugged me. And I’d been completely powerless to stop it. My mind couldn’t even protect me by holding onto their face.
    The fear didn’t scream. It sat quietly in my chest…
    I felt exposed, weak…
    Like I wasn’t even safe in my own skin.
    “Where is my husband?” My voice cracked slightly as I adjusted myself on the bed, pushing back the covers. “Where is Alex?”
    Lucy looked up. “He’s downstairs, ma’am. With your father.”
    A cold chill snaked down my spine.
    Joseph was here which likely meant….
    For reasons I couldn’t even explain, something inside me recoiled at the thought. I didn’t want that man involved in my life. 
    “Oh,” I said slowly. “I see… So, Alex brought you back?”
    She nodded, a soft smile tugging at her lips as she tucked a piece of her fringe behind her ear. The movement made her face look a little lopsided, younger even.
    “Yes,” she said, “he did. He said… he wanted me near you. That he feels like I’m the only one who really understands you. That maybe… you understand me better too.”
    I looked at her, my chest tightening slightly. A sudden wave of gratitude washed over me, almost making me feel small.
    So he actually cared about me?
    “He wanted me to be here again. To help around, run your errands like before. To just… make it easier for you.”
    I cut in softly. “It’s been hard without you, Lucy. You don’t even know.”
    I laughed, but it came out dry—half-choked.
    “Having to pick out my own dresses. Brush my hair. I felt like I was losing my mind sometimes.”
    Lucy’s eyes softened, and her smile returned. She glanced at my hair, shaking her head.
    “I can tell,” she teased gently. “If I was around, you wouldn’t be walking around with this hairdo.”
    She reached forward and brushed her fingers gently through a strand. “Would’ve touched it up for you. Added a little bounce.”
    I smiled shyly. “Is it too late?”
    She gave me a knowing look. “Well… no. But also, yes.”
    I frowned slightly. “What do you mean?”
    “For one,” she said, lifting her chin slightly, “you don’t need a new hairstyle. You look good like this.”
    “Thank you, Lucy,” I said, my voice dropping a little.
    A brief silence passed between us, soft but warm.
    Then she stood up. “Do you want something to eat? I could bring breakfast. Something light?”
    “I’m fine,” I said quietly.
    She started turning away, but something in me stirred.
    My hand reached out quickly and caught her wrist.
    “Tell me, Lucy.”
    She blinked. “Tell you what?”
    I held her gaze. “What was injected into me?”
    Her shoulders tensed.
    “Lucy,” I pressed.
    “I… I have no idea, ma’am.” Her voice was calm, but sincere. Her eyes didn’t flinch.
    But I wasn’t done.
    “Then what did you overhear?” I asked. “What did they say was used on me?”
    She hesitated glancing at the door.
    Then she turned around fully, almost reluctantly, and sat at the bed. She didn’t speak as she sat at the edge, near my legs. Her hands moved over the duvet, softly holding my ankles through the blanket.
    She looked up at me.
    “I think… I think you were drugged,” she said slowly. “And you were delirious for a while.”
    “For how long?” I asked.
    “It couldn’t have been more than a day,” I murmured to myself. “It felt like just one long night. Like I was just… asleep.”
    She shook her head.
    “You’ve been like this for three days.”
    My breath caught in my throat.
    THREE DAYS?!!!
    She nodded slowly. “You kept crying out for your mom. Screaming that you didn’t want her to die.”
    My heart twisted.
    “You said a lot of things,” she added. “We couldn’t understand most of them. Just bits and pieces.”
    Her mouth parted slightly as if to say more, but then she closed it.
    A knock echoed faintly from outside, but it wasn’t needed.
    Joseph’s voice cut through the air interrupting us.
    “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
    I turned my face slightly from Lucy, frowning as my gaze drifted toward the door.
    What was going on out there?
    Then, clear as day, I heard Celeste’s smug voice from the hallway.
    “Oh, but she’s my sister, isn’t she? I have every right to see her.”
    And just like that, the door burst open.
    Celeste strolled in like she owned the room. Dressed in a crisp white silk blouse tucked into short black denim short skirt and high-heeled boots, she looked like she was strutting onto a fashion runway rather than entering her sick sister’s bedroom.
    “Hello, sister,” she said brightly.
    Behind her, Joseph stood just outside the door, watching me with a cautious expression. His voice followed hers a beat later. “Hello, my dear.”
    Lucy quickly rose from the bed, her face dipping into a bow as she excused herself and headed to the door.
    “Sister dearie,” Celeste sang out as she extended her arm.
    In her hand was a glossy black box, neatly wrapped with a pale gold ribbon. She flipped it open with a theatrical flick.
    Inside was a delicate gold necklace, the letter B gleaming at the center in smooth cursive.
    Before I could react, Joseph stepped up behind her, placing a hand on her shoulder.
    “I don’t think this is the right time,” he murmured.
    Celeste rolled her eyes. “Oh, what? What did I do now?”
    Her voice turned cold. “Dad, you really don’t want me to see my own sister? What kind of father are you?”
    She stepped closer to me, smiling sweetly. Joseph hesitated, then walked toward me as well, leaning in to press a soft kiss to my temple.
    I just sat there on the bed—watching them both like strangers I didn’t ask to see.
    Celeste lifted the necklace. “Should I put it on you?”
    I gave her a slow nod, unsure why I even agreed. Maybe I was too drained to protest. Maybe I just wanted her to get it over with.
    She moved behind me, gently pushing my hair to one side. The cold metal clasp clicked behind my neck. Her fingers brushed my collarbone as she adjusted it.
    “There,” she said. “You look stunning. It really brings out the color of your eyes.”
    Her gaze flitted between Joseph and me. “Right, Daddy?”
    Joseph didn’t respond immediately. His eyes searched mine instead.
    Then finally, he asked, “Did you see who did it?”
    I expected that question. Somehow, I just knew it was coming.
    “No.” My voice came out low.
    Because I didn’t.
    I didn’t remember anything. And that was the worst part.
    But I knew one thing—one truth that had solidified in my chest like ice:
    I couldn’t stay here anymore.
    Someone had tried to kill me.
    Joseph crouched slightly, his tone gentle. “If something’s wrong, you need to tell us. We want to help. We want to protect you.”
    “She doesn’t need your kind of help,” Celeste cut in, waving a hand. “What she needs is to come live with us. As a family. Where it’s safe.”
    She reached over and patted my hair like I was some fragile child.
    I stared at her.
    “You don’t need to bring all that up, Celeste,” I said quietly.
    “Oh, but why not?” she said with a careless shrug. “It’s not like she’s really married to him. It’s a contract, Dad. The real wife is Beatrice.”
    Joseph sighed, rubbing his temples. “Celeste, please. We can’t meddle in that.”
    “Um, hello?” I cut in, raising my hand. “I’m literally sitting right here.”
    They both turned to me as if suddenly remembering I existed.
    “I’m right here.”
    Annoyance bubbled under my skin. I tried to swing my legs off the bed, pushing myself up.
    “Whoa, whoa, easy there,” Joseph said, reaching out.
    “Don’t touch me!”
    My voice cracked as I waved him off. Anger flared so fast it surprised even me.
    “You don’t get to pretend like you’re some perfect father now!” I shouted. “You don’t get to act like this doting dad who suddenly cares!”
    Celeste let out a scoff from behind me. “So rude,” she muttered, crossing her legs on the bed like it was a throne.
    “And you,” I snapped, pointing directly at her, “I don’t need your fake sisterly affection. I know you don’t like me. And newsflash—I don’t like you either.”
    “Okay, okay… someone’s feisty this morning,” she mumbled, feigning amusement.
    Then I turned back to Joseph. “And you,” I said, eyes burning, “I will never regard you as my father. Not once have you ever truly apologized for what you did to my mom. You just keep pretending like you were the hero.”
    “You’re not feeling well right now,” Joseph said carefully. “This isn’t the time—”
    “Let go of me!” I snapped.
    A deep silence fell in the room.
    “I think you both need to leave,” I said finally, my voice trembling. “Right now.”
    Joseph was the first to leave.
    Before stepping out, he placed a hand on my arm, his face drenched in pity. I didn’t acknowledge it. I didn’t even flinch. I just stared ahead, cold and unmoved, as he disappeared through the door.
    Celeste, however, remained.
    She still sat on my bed like it was hers, legs crossed, completely unfazed—as if my anger were just a scene in a sitcom and she was the amused audience.
    “I said,” I snapped, “leave my room this instant. Or do you want me to drag you out myself?”
    She raised an eyebrow, but didn’t budge.
    My fists clenched as I glanced down at myself—beige nightdress clinging to my frame. Who even changed me into this? This wasn’t what I was wearing before. The fabric felt unfamiliar on my skin.
    And then there was Celeste, in her polished white silk shirt, glowing like she’d just stepped out of a photoshoot. I must’ve looked like a deranged, bedridden madwoman next to her. But I didn’t care. I’d had enough.
    “Oh, Isla,” she cooed as she finally uncrossed her legs, her heels tapping softly on the floor. “You are one feisty little girl… oh sorry I meant, one feisty little sister of mine.”
    She walked over to me slowly, deliberately. A slow predator pacing its prey.
    When she reached me, she leaned in behind my back, and I felt her breath near my ear. I kept my face straight, refusing to shudder. The scent of her fruity perfume made my stomach churn.
    “You’re no different from Beatrice,” she whispered.
    I stood still.
    “Oops… except for the fact that she’s kind of cray-cray and you’re… well, maybe not,” she added with a mock pout. “Or are you?”
    Her voice dropped to a whisper, poisonous and playful. “Because if I recall correctly, some birds have been chirping about you ranting that your mother is dead.”
    I flinched slightly.
    She grinned, sensing it. “Well, for one, that crazy woman in the hospital is not my mother. My real mother died a long time ago. That madwoman whom you call your mother is nothing to me.”
    At that, I wheeled around so fast our noses nearly touched.
    “Don’t you dare talk about my mother that way,” I hissed.
    She didn’t even blink. “Oh, but I can. And I will. Because that lunatic woman in the hospital? She ruined you. Look at what she’s made you become. Stripping your dignity for…. what was it? Five hundred thousand dollars?”
    She laughed straight into my face.
    “You’re degrading yourself for a few scraps. Selling your soul for half a million because of her? You should’ve let her die.”
    My hand flew before I could stop it.
    The slap echoed, sharp and violent as Her blonde head of hair snapped to the side, obscuring her white face.
    I watched, breathing hard, as the red mark of my palm spread across her powdered cheek. Good. Let it burn.
    What I wasn’t expecting, was the chuckle that slid out of her red lips.
    “I like that,” she said, slowly lifting her chin, her eyes glittering with amusement. “You’re feisty. I like it.”
    She smoothed her hair back, twirled a strand around her finger, then stepped even closer. Her fingers tapped lightly against the necklace she’d given me.
    “This?” she said, her tone icy now. “This right here? It belongs to Beatrice. Be sure to keep it safe”
    She smirked, turned, and strutted out of the room pausing with her manicured hands on the handle she spoke with her back turned to me. 
    “And don’t for once think I’m the enemy dear sister. The man you roll around in bed with is likely the one whom you should be most scared of. Dad just wants what’s best for you”
    Without a glance back, she exited my room
    leaving behind her perfume and a storm of chaos.
    Like she’d just won the lottery.
    Absent minded I fiddled with the necklace gracing my neck as my thoughts went hair-wire.