CHAPTER 2
1307 Words
The motel walls were thin. Sophie could hear the couple in the next room arguing about money. A baby cried somewhere down the hall. The radiator clicked like it had a heartbeat of its own.
She didn’t sleep.
She couldn’t.
All night, she sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the silver locket in her hand, flipping it open and close. Over and over.
That’s my husband.
That’s my sister.
And i’m supposed to be dead.
Her body was tired, but her mind refused to shut down.
There were holes in her memory—black, empty spaces. Faces, voices, entire moments felt like dreams she couldn’t reach. But there were flashes. Sharp and painful.
Damien’s voice, low and angry.
The smell of burning.
Glass breaking.
A scream—maybe hers.
And then… nothing.
Five years. That’s how long she had been missing, according to the news. Five years buried under someone else’s version of her life.
She had to know why.
She couldn’t go to Damien. Not yet. Not like this—bruised, weak, confused. If he had lied about her death, he would not welcome her with open arms.
And if he was innocent?
She had no way of knowing.
So she needed answers. Quiet ones.
And maybe, just maybe, someone who still remembered her.
By noon, she was walking the crowded streets of Manhattan in the only outfit she owned; A black coat that didn’t fully close and a pair of jeans she didn’t remember buying. Her feet ached. Her head pounded. But she moved like a woman with purpose.
She made her way toward the Upper East Side, following only instinct and a half-familiar pull in her chest.
She didn’t have a phone. No ID. No credit card. She couldn’t Google anything. But the name Blackwood still meant power in this city. Even the taxi driver who had dropped her off near Central Park raised an eyebrow when she asked if the “Blackwood building” was still around.
“Of course it is,” he’d said, like she was stupid. “They own half of Fifth Avenue.”
Now, standing in front of the glass tower marked Blackwood Enterprises, Sophie felt the first real flicker of fear.
This place was too polished. Too bright. Too alive.
She didn’t belong here—not like this.
She watched people pass her by in expensive coats, sharp heels, laughing into phones and sipping coffees. She looked like a ghost in their world.
But as she turned to walk away, a hand gripped her shoulder.
Hard.
She twirled around, heart racing in her chest.
A man stood behind her. Early forties. Expensive suit. Cold eyes.
“Mrs. Blackwood?” he said.
Sophie froze.
He knew her.
Her lips opened, but her voice seized.
He dropped his hand from her shoulder, and he stared at her like he was seeing a miracle, or a dilemma.
“I thought you were dead,” he said quietly. “Everyone did.”
“Who are you?” she whispered.
“You don’t remember me?”
She shook her head.
He stepped closer. “Daniel Pierce. Head of Blackwood security. I worked for your husband. I—” He stopped, scanning her face. “You really don’t remember, do you?”
“No. I don’t,” Sophie said. Her voice was shaking now. “I was in a clinic. In Switzerland. They found me after a fire… I think. I don’t know. I just—I didn’t know where else to go.”
Daniel looked around quickly. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“I need answers”
“Not here,” he snapped, his voice low. “They’ll see you. Come with me. Now.”
Something in the way he spoke made her agree.
He guided her around the corner, down a back street and into the back of a black SUV. The windows were tinted. The doors locked with a soft click.
“Are you taking me to him?” she asked, panicking.
“No ma’am,” Daniel said as he starts the engine. “I’m taking you to a safe place.”
They drove in silence for about fifteen minutes. Sophie kept her left hand on the door handle, just in case.
“Where are we going?” she finally asked.
“There’s a safe house. You stayed there once… before everything went to hell.”
“What do you mean, before everything went to hell?”
Daniel didn’t answer right away. His jaw was tight. His eyes didn’t leave the road.
“I shouldn’t be doing this, If Damien finds out I helped you—“ he muttered.
“What does he think happened to me?” Sophie asked quietly.
Daniel looked at her through the rearview mirror. “He thinks you died in the fire.”
“Was there a body?”
He hesitated. “There was something left behind. Charred remains. Not much to test. There was a wedding ring and a bracelet they said was yours. It all matched. So they buried you.”
Sophie felt sick.
“So he just… moved on?” she asked. “With my sister?”
Daniel’s hands tightened on the steering wheel.
“There were rumors back then,” he said. “That Lena wanted him. She was always close. After the funeral, she stayed. She took care of him, the business, everything. It wasn’t long before they got engaged.”
Sophie swallowed hard. “Did Damien… love me?”
Daniel didn’t answer.
“Did he?” she repeated.
Finally, Daniel let out a breath. “Yes. He did. At least, I thought he did. But after you died, he changed. Turned colder. Paranoid. Obsessed with controlling everything. People say he broke.”
“Then why didn’t he try to find out what really happened?”
Daniel met her eyes again through the mirror. “Because if he did… he might’ve had to face the truth.”
The safe house was a brownstone in Brooklyn. Quiet. Hidden. Daniel pressed a code and led her inside.
It smelled faintly of cedar and old memories.
She collapsed onto the couch. Her body felt like it had been running for days.
“Why are you helping me?” she asked.
Daniel pulled off his jacket and sat across from her.
“Because I failed you once,” he said. “Five years ago, I was supposed to keep you safe. You told me you were afraid. That something wasn’t right. You said someone was watching you.”
Her eyes widened. “I said that?”
“You were scared of something—or someone. I brushed it off. Said you were stressed. Then the fire happened. And you were gone.”
Sophie swallowed, her throat dry. “You think it wasn’t an accident.”
“I know it wasn’t.”
The air in the room shifted.
“You think someone tried to kill me.” Sophie said almost whispering.
Daniel’s eyes darkened. “Not someone. I think more than one person wanted you gone.”
Silence stretched between them.
Then Sophie said something she hadn’t dared to say aloud.
“Then I need to find out why. I need to know what happened to me.”
Daniel nodded slowly. “Then we start with the Blackwood files. There’s a storage facility on the edge of the city. I’ve got access. If anything was hidden… it’ll be there.”
Sophie looked down at her trembling hands.
For the first time in five years, she had a name. A place to start. And a single thread of truth to pull.
But the deeper she went, the more dangerous it would become.
Because someone had already tried to erase her once.
And if they knew she was back—
They might try again.
- Writer
