RHEA’S POV
The car stops with a gentle lurch, and Holmes is there, opening my door before I can reach for the handle. I step out on wobbly legs as the world tilts slightly beneath me.
The conversation with the woman on the phone; my aunt, my mother’s sister, plays on a loop in my head. Every word was a key, unlocking a lifetime of questions.
“Your real mother was my sister, and she died the day you were born.”
The revelation sits in my chest like a stone.
“Thank you, Holmes,” I manage.
I turn toward the mansion, walking with steps that require conscious effort. My mind keeps replaying everything I have just learned about myself today.
When the phone call came two days ago, I had dismissed it as nothing more than a trap or some kind of fraud. But for those two days, I could not get m
