Chapter 11: Maybe I do now
1774 Words
“Oh, Nichole... you had us so worried,” Maya said tearfully, cupping Honey’s face in both hands as her eyes filled with tears.
“I’m sorry, Mum,” Honey replied softly, slipping into the role as naturally as she could.
Liam stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her. “Don’t ever do this to us again.”
“Never again, Dad,” Honey said with a small smile.
God.
They really think I’m Nichole.
For one brief moment, the warmth in their voices made something twist painfully inside her.
They loved their daughter.
That much was obvious.
It wasn’t forced.
It wasn’t for show.
It wasn’t the kind of cold, performative affection rich families displayed in public and forgot in private.
It was real.
And standing in the middle of it, wearing another woman’s face and name, Honey suddenly felt a wave of guilt press hard against her chest.
She had expected arrogance.
Distance.
Maybe even cruelty.
Not this.
Not parents who looked at her like they had just gotten their whole world back.
“Are you hurt anywhere?” Maya asked anxiously, checking Honey over with trembling hands. “Did you get scratched? Did you hit yourself?”
“Not at all, Mum,” Honey said quickly, forcing a reassuring smile. “I’m perfectly fine.”
“Thank God,” Maya whispered, her face softening with relief. “We’re just so grateful to have you home.”
“I’m glad to be home too,” Honey replied, though the words sat heavily on her tongue.
Her eyes drifted across the grand living room and landed on the framed photographs lining the walls.
Photos of the real Nichole.
Childhood birthdays.
School portraits.
Family vacations.
Elegant smiles frozen in expensive frames.
It was impossible not to notice how loved Nichole had been.
And somehow, that made Honey feel even worse.
“Jay,” Senator Liam Sinclair said, turning toward him. “Thank you for bringing my daughter home.”
“My pleasure, sir,” Jay replied with a slight bow of his head.
“I suppose the Sinclairs and the Kingsleys don’t need to go to war anymore,” Liam added with a measured smile.
“I appreciate that, Sir Sinclair,” Jay said evenly.
Liam’s expression shifted, becoming more serious. “And you’ll still need to prove to me that you won’t hurt Nichole again.”
Jay glanced briefly at Honey before looking back at Liam. “I take responsibility for everything that happened. I admit my actions triggered Nichole’s reaction.”
Honey’s face tightened.
Why does he have to be the one taking all the blame?
She scoffed inwardly.
I guess Nichole is a seriously spoiled brat.
“Is something wrong, dear?” Nana asked, taking Honey’s hand after noticing the slight frown on her face.
“Nothing, Grandma,” Honey said absently. “I just have a little headache.”
The effect was immediate.
Nana’s face fell.
Maya frowned. “Nichole... since when did you start calling your grandmother ‘Grandma’ instead of Nana?”
Oh no.
Honey’s heart skipped.
“Oh...” She scratched the back of her head, buying herself a second, but her mind went completely blank.
Think.
Think.
Say something.
But nothing came.
Panic began to climb up her spine.
Thankfully, Jay stepped in at once.
“Nichole had a minor accident,” he said smoothly. “She hit her head against the steering wheel. The doctor said she suffered a slight concussion.”
Maya gasped. “Oh my God.”
She rushed closer and reached gently toward Honey’s head. “My poor baby, you must have been in so much pain.”
Honey flinched dramatically. “Ouch... it still hurts a little.”
Maya immediately pulled back. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”
Then she turned protective all over again. “Please go upstairs and rest. I’ll call the doctor to come and examine you.”
“Okay, Mum,” Honey said obediently.
She stole a quick glance at Jay and mouthed, thank you.
He gave the slightest nod.
There were two staircases on opposite sides of the living room, each leading to a different wing of the mansion.
Honey chose the one on the right, praying with all her heart it would somehow lead to Nichole’s room.
The moment her foot touched the first step, the entire room fell silent.
“Nichole, darling...” Liam called out.
Honey turned slowly, forcing a smile. “Yes, Daddy?”
“That’s not the way to your room.”
Oh God.
Her stomach dropped.
Shit.
It’s my first day and I’m already messing everything up.
“Oh! Right. Not that way.” Honey laughed nervously and lightly slapped her forehead. “It’s the concussion. It’s really messing with my memory.”
“Your room is in the other wing, dear,” Maya said gently.
Honey nodded quickly and stepped down from the wrong staircase, trying not to die of embarrassment.
“I’ll walk her to her room,” Jay said suddenly.
Everyone looked at him in surprise.
Maya blinked.
This was new.
Since they had grown older, Jay hardly ever went near Nichole’s room.
Liam recovered first. “Alright, Jayson. You can escort her.”
Jay inclined his head once.
Together, he and Honey climbed the correct staircase and walked down the corridor toward Nichole’s room.
The moment they entered and Jay shut the door behind them, he turned to her with a frustrated look.
“You almost got yourself caught down there,” he groaned.
Honey spun around. “How was I supposed to know tiny details like that? You should have told me.”
“You should have used your common sense,” Jay snapped.
Honey’s face twisted. “As if you have any.”
Jay’s eyes narrowed. “Do not insult me.”
Honey lifted both hands in surrender. “Fine. Fine.”
Jay exhaled sharply. “I hope you can manage on your own from here.”
He turned toward the door.
Honey watched him take a few steps away, and suddenly the room felt too big.
Too quiet.
Too unfamiliar.
“Wait,” she called.
Jay turned back with a frown. “What now?”
Honey hesitated for a second. “I want to ask you for a favor.”
“What favor?” he asked impatiently.
She clasped her fingers together. “Can I come sew my remaining dresses at your place every weekend?”
Jay stared at her for a moment without speaking.
Honey shifted awkwardly under his gaze.
Finally, he said, “I’ll think about it.”
“Alright, almighty Jay,” Honey said with a little smirk. “I’m expecting a positive answer.”
That earned her a hard look before he yanked the door open and slammed it shut behind him.
Honey stared at the closed door and pouted.
“What a brooding prick.”
Then she turned around.
And froze.
The room was enormous.
A queen-sized bed sat in the center, draped in soft pink sheets and surrounded by carefully chosen decorations that screamed wealth, femininity, and perfection. The entire room looked like it had been designed for a spoiled princess who had never heard the word no in her life.
Honey slowly walked to the bed, then threw herself onto it, spreading her arms and legs wide.
“This is my life now,” she whispered to the ceiling.
But the words did not sound victorious.
They sounded strange.
Heavy.
She sat up after a moment and looked around again, this time more carefully.
Her gaze landed on the photographs all over the walls.
Nichole as a child.
Nichole as a teenager.
Nichole in expensive dresses.
Nichole at parties.
Nichole smiling in family portraits.
Every stage of her life had been captured and framed beautifully.
Honey slid off the bed and walked closer.
Her fingers brushed lightly over one of the picture frames.
From everything she could see, Nichole’s life had been nothing like hers.
Nichole had grown up in comfort.
In beauty.
In affection.
In security.
Honey swallowed hard.
And despite herself, she felt that ugly little stab of guilt again.
These people loved their daughter so openly.
So tenderly.
And here she was, standing in her room, wearing her place like stolen silk.
“What happened to you?” Honey murmured softly to Nichole’s smiling face in the frame. “I really want to know.”
She sighed.
“I really want to meet you. Are you some kind of twin I never knew about?”
A knock sounded at the door.
Honey quickly stepped away from the pictures and gathered herself.
“Come in,” she called sweetly, pulling her hair into a loose bun.
The door opened slowly.
A maid stood outside, hesitating at the entrance like she wasn’t sure she was allowed in.
“Come in,” Honey said with a friendly smile.
The maid looked startled. “Are you sure, ma’am?”
Honey frowned slightly. “Of course. Come in.”
The maid stepped inside, though she still looked visibly uneasy.
“Mrs. Sinclair asked me to check if you need anything,” she said.
Honey rubbed her palms together. “Yes, please. I’d love a cup of hot chocolate.”
The maid’s jaw dropped.
“I’m sorry, ma’am... what did you say?”
Honey blinked. “I said I want a cup of hot chocolate.”
The maid stared at her in open confusion.
“But... Miss Nichole ... you don't like chocolate.”
Oh, for heaven’s sake.
Honey winced inwardly.
Not again.
Jay never mentioned that either.
The maid kept staring at her like she had just watched a ghost speak.
Honey forced a tight smile, but inside, irritation crackled hot and quick.
Honestly, how many tiny details was she supposed to memorize before surviving this madness?
Her gaze drifted around the room.
Nichole’s room.
Nichole’s family.
Nichole’s life.
And yet she was the one trapped inside all of it.
A slow, stubborn defiance rose in her chest.
She didn’t give a damn about Nichole’s preferences right now.
Not after walking on eggshells all day.
Not after lying to people who had welcomed her with love she didn’t deserve.
If she was going to survive this arrangement, she needed at least one thing to be hers.
Honey lifted her chin and looked the maid straight in the eye.
“Well,” she said coolly, “maybe I do now.”
The maid looked even more unsettled.
Honey offered her a sweet smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.
“So please bring me the hot chocolate.”
- Writer
