The Art of Deception

The Sketches

“Going to get some groceries,” Leigh said, grabbing her keys from the counter. “You need anything?”

I shook my head, eyes still glued to the three sketches I’d just finished. “No, I’m good.”

She gave me a quick smile and left, the door clicking shut behind her.

I stared at the faces I’d drawn. Two men. One woman. The lines came naturally, as if my hand remembered what my mind couldn’t. Their eyes haunted me—empty sockets on paper, but heavy with memories just out of reach.

But before I could piece anything together, my phone buzzed. A message from an unknown number:

“You’re getting closer. Let’s not ruin the surprise.”

My stomach twisted.

***

Leigh

The grocery store was only ten minutes away, but she never made it there.

Just as she stepped off the curb toward her car, a black SUV screeched to a halt. Two men jumped out. One clasped a hand over her mouth; the other yanked her into the back seat. The world turned dark behind the blindfold, and a metallic scent filled her nostrils.

She didn’t scream. She couldn’t.

The ride was fast, silent, suffocating.

When the car finally stopped, she was dragged out, her shoes scraping across what felt like gravel. A construction site? Dust filled the air. Hollow footsteps echoed around her.

They tied her to a chair—tight enough to cut off circulation. The blindfold was yanked off.

Blurred light flooded her eyes. She blinked quickly, trying to focus.

Then came the voices.

“She’s here,” one of them muttered. “The boss is on his way.”

Minutes later, a tall man in a tailored black suit walked in, composed like a man used to getting exactly what he wanted. He stood in front of her, gaze cool and cutting.

“Leigh Hart,” he said smoothly. “You love your husband. Your son. Your sweet, curious sister.”

Leigh said nothing. She was trembling.

He knelt beside her chair, eyes boring into hers. “Tonight, I’m coming to your house. You will introduce me to Celia… as her boyfriend.”

Her eyes widened in disbelief.

“If you want your family to stay safe, you’ll do it without hesitation. Smile, hug, make it believable. Later, I’ll give you more instructions.”

He leaned in, lips close to her ear.

“And if you think about telling anyone or doing anything stupid…” he pulled out a phone, swiped to a video.

It was a live feed. Her son playing in the backyard. Michael standing by the grill.

Leigh’s heart nearly stopped.

“Good girl,” he said, standing and brushing imaginary dust from his sleeves. “We’ll talk again soon.”

He turned and walked away. The two men untied her silently and shoved her back into the SUV.

It wasn’t just Celia who was being hunted now.

They all were.

---

Leigh’s hands trembled as she gripped the grocery cart, moving slowly through the aisles. One of the men stood nearby, pretending to browse. The other waited outside, probably watching her every move.

They made her finish what she started—pick up milk, eggs, a loaf of bread, cereal for Andrew. To anyone else, she looked like just another tired mom shopping at the end of a long day. But inside, she was unraveling.

When she got back into the car, her captor gave her a warning glance. “Act normal.”

And she did.

***

The moment she stepped through the front door, Andrew ran to her with open arms.

“Mummy!”

She bent down, hugging him tightly, holding back the tears that threatened to spill.

“Hey, baby. Were you good while I was gone?” she asked, trying to keep her voice light.

Michael popped his head from the den. “Everything okay? You were gone a bit longer than usual.”

“Traffic,” Leigh lied smoothly, lifting the grocery bags. “And the checkout lines were crazy.”

“Let me help you,” he said, walking toward her, but she quickly diverted.

“No, no. I got it. You just stay with Andrew. I’ll put these away.”

She walked past them into the kitchen, keeping her back to them. Her shoulders sagged the moment she was out of sight. She needed to breathe. To think.

As she unpacked the groceries, she glanced toward the hallway. Celia was sitting on the floor in the living room, surrounded by papers—sketching again, her brow furrowed.

Leigh swallowed hard.

How could she possibly tell her what had just happened? That a man named Adrian—the same name that gave Celia migraines and flashes of forgotten memories—had used *her* to get closer?

She didn’t even know what he wanted yet. Only that he was dangerous.

After preparing dinner quietly, Leigh wiped her hands and turned toward the hallway. Her chest tightened.

She had to tell her now.

She walked toward the living room. “Celia?” she said softly.

Celia looked up, half-dazed, like she’d just been pulled out of a trance.

“I—” Leigh began, voice faltering. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

Just as Celia tilted her head in concern, the doorbell rang.

They both paused.

“I’ll get it,” Celia said, standing up.

“No—” Leigh’s voice came too late.

Celia was already at the door.

She opened it.

And there he stood.

Adrian.

Dark suit. Calm expression. Hands in his pockets. And eyes that seemed to know *everything*.

“Hey, Celia,” he said smoothly, his voice like silk over steel. “Sorry to show up unannounced. I’m Adrian.”

Celia blinked.

The name hit her like a bullet.

Pain. A flash. Blood? Screaming?

Then—darkness.

She staggered back slightly, one hand reaching for the doorframe.

Leigh hurried forward, masking panic with a forced smile. “Celia… this is… Adrian,” she said, as practiced. “He’s… my friend. I mean—he’s *your* friend.”

Adrian’s eyes didn’t leave Celia’s.

“It’s good to finally see you again,” he said with a quiet intensity.

Celia opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

Behind her, Leigh stood frozen.

The game had begun.

And neither of them had any idea just how deep the deception went.

---

The bell rang, slicing through the silence like a blade.

Celia walked toward the door slowly, her heart oddly uneasy. Leigh trailed behind her, drying her hands with a kitchen towel. The package earlier had already unsettled them both. Now, the unexpected visitor added another layer of tension.

Celia opened the door.

A tall man stood there, dressed in a sharp black suit. His eyes, cold and unreadable, softened into something disturbingly warm as he smiled.

“Hey babe,” he said smoothly. “It’s me—Adrian. Your boyfriend. You remember me, right?”

Celia’s breath caught.

She froze, her gaze locking onto his face.

His was one of the faces she had just sketched—one of the three blurry figures from the flashes in her mind. Her fingers went numb.

Behind her, Leigh stepped forward, startled. “Adrian?” she echoed, blinking in confusion.

Celia turned to her slowly. “You told me earlier you didn’t know any of my friends.”

Leigh looked cornered for a moment—then nodded hesitantly. “Yes, but… I just remembered. A few days before your accident, you sent me a picture of your boyfriend. I didn’t recognize him at first. I swear, Celia.”

Celia felt like the walls were spinning.

Adrian chuckled lightly and stepped closer. “Why don’t we talk inside?” he suggested, his voice low and confident. “It’s been so long. I’m just glad you’re alive.”

Still in shock, Celia stepped back to let him in.

Once seated, she faced him with crossed arms. “You said you’re my boyfriend?”

“For two years,” he answered without hesitation. “We were very private. You hated going public with things, even with family. We kept everything between us.”

Celia shook her head slightly. “And we… lived together?”

“In the apartment you can’t remember,” he replied gently. “But I’ll take you back there when you’re ready. All I want is for you to feel safe again.”

She wanted to believe him—but nothing about his eyes said safe. And everything about her instincts screamed danger.

As the conversation continued, Adrian recounted carefully curated stories—a trip to the lake, a shared inside joke, a necklace he claimed he bought for her birthday. But Celia didn’t recognize any of it. It was like he was painting a life she’d never lived… or one she’d been forced to forget.

Leigh sat quietly the whole time, her discomfort growing.

When Adrian finally excused himself with a kiss to Celia’s forehead, her entire body tensed. She didn’t pull away—but she didn’t return the gesture either.

He whispered, “I’ll come pick you up tomorrow. We’ll go home. Don’t worry… everything will come back soon.”

As the door shut behind him, Leigh turned to Celia. “Celia…”

“I don’t remember him,” she said coldly. “Not a single thing. But I recognize his face from the sketch.”

“You think he’s dangerous?” Leigh whispered.

Celia nodded, staring at the door.

“I think… he’s the reason I lost my memory.”