Chapter 8
1185 Words
Liam POV
My heart stops. I look from the girl on the porch to the woman by the fire. They are identical. The same tilt of the head. The same sapphire eyes. Even the way they breathe matches.
My finger rests on the trigger of my Glock. I do not move.
"Liam, don't," the girl on the porch says. Her voice has that same sharp, analytical edge. "I am Isabella. That woman in the blanket is a plant. My mother had her conditioned for years to replace me."
I look at the Isabella by the fire. She is pale. Her hands shake. She looks at the girl in the red dress with pure horror.
"Liam, she is lying," the woman by the fire whispers. "I am the one who was in the mansion. I am the one who fixed the Davis projections. I am the one who threw the paper into the river."
The girl in the red dress laughs. She steps into the room. She ignores my gun. She focuses on the tablet.
"Anyone can throw paper," the newcomer says. "But only I have the active link. Look at the screen, Liam. The Medusa core is slaved to my biometrics. If my heart stops, the global market crashes in sixty seconds."
I look at the tablet. It shows a heartbeat monitor. It is synced to the girl in the red dress.
I feel a wave of insecurity. I pride myself on being a predator. I pride myself on knowing my prey. But I am staring at two identical souls.
"Isabella," I say, looking at both of them. "Tell me something only we know."
"The red dress," the woman by the fire says quickly. "You told me it was your mother's. You told me not to bleed on it."
"Mother told me that story too," the girl in the red dress counters. "She coached me for months on your history. Every detail. Every trauma."
She walks closer to me. She smells like rain and expensive perfume.
"I am the genius, Liam. I am the one who wrote the fail-safe. Why would I be shivering in a blanket? I am the one who survived."
Isabella POV (By the Fire)
My mind is racing. My calculator brain is trying to find the flaw. This girl looks like me. She talks like me. She even knows the story of the dress.
Then I see it.
I look at her hands. They are perfect. Her nails are manicured. Her skin is smooth.
I look at my own hands. They are stained with soot. There is a small, jagged scar on my thumb from when I smashed the computer screen in the safe house.
I feel a surge of shame. I am the broken version. She is the pristine one.
"Liam," I say. My voice is low. "Look at her hands."
Liam shifts his gaze. The girl in the red dress freezes. She tries to hide her hands behind the tablet.
"A scar proves nothing," the girl snaps. "A prisoner gets scars. An heiress stays perfect."
"An heiress," I repeat. I stand up. The blanket falls to the floor. "You called yourself an heiress. I told Liam I am a ghost. I told him I would rather be a ghost with him than a queen."
The girl in the red dress sneers. "A sentimental lie. You want the power. You want the codes."
She turns the tablet toward me.
"Thirty seconds, Isabella. If you don't kill him, I initiate the wipe. You'll be a ghost, alright. A ghost with nothing."
I look at Liam. He is watching me. He isn't looking at the gun. He is looking at my eyes.
He is waiting for my choice.
I see the pride in his face. He wants me to be the woman he fell for. He wants me to be the one who threw it all away.
"I won't do it," I say.
"Then you die too," the twin says.
She reaches for a button on the tablet.
Liam moves.
He doesn't shoot. He lunges. He grabs the tablet and throws it into the fireplace.
The screen shatters. The plastic melts in the heat.
"No!" the twin screams.
She lunges for the fire. Liam grabs her by the waist and throws her back toward the door.
"The heartbeat monitor!" she shrieks. "The market! It's over!"
We wait. Ten seconds. Twenty. Thirty.
The world doesn't end. There are no sirens. No news alerts.
Liam looks at the girl in the red dress.
"The Medusa core doesn't respond to biometrics," Liam says. His voice is cold. "It responds to logic. And the woman I love told me she deleted the codes. She told me she threw the fail-safe into the river."
He walks over to me. He puts his arm around my shoulder.
"You're a good actress," Liam says to the twin. "But Isabella Vane doesn't keep a backup. She burns the bridge while she's still standing on it."
The girl in the red dress looks at us. Her face twists. The mask of beauty falls away. She looks like Eleanor.
"You'll regret this," she whispers. "Mother has more than one plan."
She turns and runs into the rain.
Liam doesn't follow her. He shuts the door. He locks it.
He turns to me. He reaches out and touches the scar on my thumb.
"I knew," he whispers.
"How?"
"Because the other one didn't look at me like I was her only hope," he says. "She looked at me like I was an obstacle."
I lean my head against his chest. I feel the tension leave my body.
But then, the floor begins to vibrate.
A low, deep hum starts under our feet.
Liam looks at the fireplace. The melted tablet is glowing. Not with fire. With a bright, pulsing blue light.
"Isabella," Liam says.
I look at the light. I see a holographic projection rising from the embers.
It is a map. A different map.
It isn't showing NYC. It is showing a series of coordinates in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean.
A voice comes from the projection. It is Eleanor’s voice.
"Congratulations, Liam. You picked the right girl. Now, come and get your mother. You have forty-eight hours before the island goes under."
I look at Liam. His face goes grey.
"My mother is in the safe house," he says. "She was asleep."
"No," I whisper. I look at the coordinates. "The safe house was a decoy. Eleanor didn't just take the sapphire. She took the only person you have left."
Liam looks at the gun on the table. He looks at me.
The war isn't over. It just moved to the ocean.
- Writer
