CHAPTER 2
1076 Words
Sebastian hadn’t dreamed since the crash.
At least, not dreams that made sense. Mostly, it was darkness. Fire.
The sound of metal breaking apart . Then after all that came the silence.
But last night, something broke.
Lila.
Except it wasn’t Lila, or was he being mistaken?
He stood at the window now bare-chested as he searched for his answers, the bandages beneath his shirt pressing faintly against the side of his ribs. Monaco’s sunrise was all gold and beautiful, but something much deeper was disturbing him.
He watched the water fountain beyond Ashbourne Hall’s gates. The villa stretched before him — ancient, cold, and unimaginably elegant — all this, but he never felt a bit of happiness. All his worries began to show as his facial expression shifted as he remembered that a woman lay in the guesthouse, claiming to be his heiress.
He couldn't stop thinking about her. Was it guilt or doubt?
He was surprised at his reaction. He was meant to be happy to see her.
After the one year he spent in the hospital. But he doesn't even feel anything.
As he was searching deep for answers, he sipped his coffee slowly.
His memory was like broken film, useless with static motion.
There were things he remembered too well: the scent of Lila’s perfume, the curve of her jaw, the strong tilt of her head when she argued over dinner with his family.
And then there were things he didn’t remember at all.
Like the accident itself.
Like the final words she said.
Like whether the woman now parading as Lila was someone he should believe… …or someone he … He was diagnosed with partial amnesia a year ago and everyone around him has been helpful. But there were moments in time that simply vanished. Minutes , sometimes hours he couldn’t account for. Moments when instinct had to speak when his memory failed.
But today, his instincts failed.
She’s not her. She can't be the one.
But then, why had his body reacted like it knew her?
Why had his pulse betrayed him last night when she smiled?
He exhaled deeply. Maybe this was exactly what they wanted. To keep him unsure, off balance as they knew he was still grieving.
If she was a con, she was trained well.
Too well.
His phone vibrated. A message appeared on the screen:
MICHAEL:"You’re in total chaos. I warned you this would happen if she came back to Ashbourne. Let her go."
His friend had warned him against believing that the girl Celeste's family claimed to have found was Lila. It all looked too real to be the real truth. He remembered Michael advising him against it. Although it seems too late, his passion to know the truth had nothing to do with letting go.
It had everything to do with unmasking her and what happened that day.
One month earlier – South of France
Olivia stood in front of a mirror that wasn’t hers in a dress that had belonged to a dead woman.
The estate was cold, sterile, located on the cliffs of Gorges du Verdon .
She hadn’t seen daylight in three days. The windows had been covered with heavy black curtains. Every room smelled like lavender and looming danger.
Celeste’s harsh voice cut through the silence like a blade. “Again.” Olivia flinched. “I’m tired.” “You don’t have the luxury of time to say the word tired,” Celeste replied. She circled Olivia like an officer inspecting a counterfeit. “Do you think Sebastian will care about how exhausted you are when he sees you? If you blink more than Lila , you’re done.”
The dress was a Louis Vuitton chiffon vintage dress.Lila’s. The neckline choked Olivia. Her own reflection stared back - lips fulls, shoulder stiff and face unsure.
Celeste snapped. “Fix it. The press would notice even a single crack.
You better don't ruin this for me”. She pressed further. “ Remember your life is my hands, I picked you from nothing, so you better do it right”.
Olivia pressed her fingers to her cheeks as if that could soften the frustration. She had spent weeks learning how Lila walked, how she smiled, how she gestured at people, and never blinked in a boardroom.
There were documents of Lila’s business strategy, scanned handwriting samples, a whole file on her friends and even recordings of her laughter- both fake and real.
There was no escape. Only perfection.
Only survival.
“Why did she die?”,Lila asked. A long pause.
Celeste stepped closer, her smile venomous.
“She was stupid. That’s why she died.” Present Day – Ashbourne Hall The dressing room smelled faintly of lavender and roses. Olivia sat in front of the balcony, her fingers crossed on the railings, her eyes unfocused
There were forty-two dresses hanging in the wardrobe behind her.She had counted them to know how far she was going. Each one handpicked to suit Lila’s style — icy chiffons, red silks, pearl beading.
Each one was a lie she wore on her skin.
The gala had ended hours ago, but her mind hadn’t left it.
You’re not her, right?
Sebastian had said it so softly so why does it still echo like thunder.
He knew.
Or he didn’t.
Or he was bluffing.
But what if he wasn’t?
The truth was simple: she wasn’t made for this.
She wasn’t born into elegance. She had learned it with bleeding heels and sleepless nights.
And the worst part?
Sometimes she no longer remembered how she used to smile — the Olivia kind. Her reflection no longer offered hope , only mimicry.
The cool breeze from the balcony kissed her skin, and for one brief moment, she felt human again.
And then she saw him.
Sebastian.
Standing on the far balcony, shirtless, with his bare torso, staring straight at her like he would never stop.
Their eyes met.
Her breath seized.
His gaze was unreadable — not angry, not soft. Just... blank.
And in that silence, Olivia realized something terrifying:
He wasn’t trying to remember who she was.
He was trying to remember who he was with her.
Later that night A letter slipped beneath her door.
No signature.
No seal.
Just her name, written in a bold handwriting she doesn't
Lila.
Stop pretending.
I’m not as dead as you think.
I am coming for you.
- Writer
