Chapter 11: Learning Isabelle Sterling
1248 Words
POV: Elena Carter
Agnes placed a thick folder on the table.
Elena looked at it suspiciously.
“What's that?”
“Your new life.”
Agnes pushed it toward her.
“Not all of it. Just enough to keep you from destroying yourself the moment you step into that family.”
Elena opened the folder.
Photographs filled the first few pages.
Isabelle at three.
Isabelle at four.
Isabelle beside Victoria.
Isabelle with her parents.
Beside some photographs were handwritten notes.
Loved music.
Hated peas.
Afraid of thunderstorms.
Allergic to strawberries.
Wouldn't sleep with the bedroom door completely closed.
Elena looked up.
“How am I supposed to remember all of this?”
“You're not.”
Agnes took the folder from her.
“That's where you've been thinking about this the wrong way.”
Elena frowned.
“What do you mean?”
“You can't become a perfect copy of Isabelle. Nobody expects a woman who disappeared at five to remember every detail of her childhood.”
Agnes sat opposite her.
“And if you pretend to remember everything, you'll make mistakes.”
“So what do I do?”
“You remember what you can.”
“And the rest?”
“You have an explanation.”
Agnes explained the story.
A woman had found Isabelle when she was still young. Confused and unable to explain where she belonged, the woman took her in. She never knew the girl's real family, only her name. Over the years, she raised her as her own and never told her about the Sterlings until she was dying.
“Why would she hide something like that?” Elena asked.
“Maybe she believed she was protecting her.”
“From what?”
Agnes shrugged.
“We don't know.”
Elena thought about it.
That was the beauty of the story.
It didn't require her to remember everything.
She could remember pieces and know that she was Isabelle, but she wouldn't have memories of growing up inside the Sterling mansion.
“Then what happens when they ask me about my life after I disappeared?”
Agnes looked at her.
“You tell them the truth.”
Elena blinked.
“The truth?”
“Your truth.”
Agnes leaned closer.
“You were raised by a woman who never told you who your real family was. She died and left you information about the Sterlings. You became curious. You searched. Then you found them.”
“That makes sense.”
“Most importantly, it gives you a reason not to remember everything.”
Agnes smiled.
“You don't need to pretend you've forgotten. You simply never knew.”
That was far more believable.
Agnes began testing her.
“What do you remember about your childhood?”
Elena thought.
“Very little before the woman who raised me.”
“Good. But you need some memories from before that.”
Agnes slid a photograph toward her.
“Who is this?”
“Victoria.”
“What was she to you?”
“My sister.”
“How did she treat you?”
Elena looked at the photograph again.
“She was protective. She teased me sometimes. She was the person I followed around.”
Agnes nodded.
“That's enough. You don't need to give Victoria a speech about your childhood. Let her remember it.”
The less Elena invented, the safer she would be.
Agnes changed the exercise.
“Imagine Victoria asks you where you've been.”
Elena paused.
“I was raised by a woman who found me when I was young. She never told me about my family because she didn't know who I belonged to. When she was dying, she finally told me my name.”
Agnes studied her.
“Then what?”
“I searched for the Sterling family.”
“And?”
“I found them.”
Agnes nodded.
“That's believable.”
“But what if they ask why I never came looking for them?”
“You were a child.”
“And when I became old enough?”
“You didn't know they existed.”
“Until she died.”
“Exactly.”
Agnes gave her a look.
“Don't celebrate yet.”
She spent the next several hours learning what Isabelle had been like.
Not every detail.
Just the things that mattered.
She loved music but hated performing in front of people. She liked strawberries but couldn't eat them. Victoria used to brush her hair when she was upset. Eleanor called her Izzy when they were alone, and Richard rarely raised his voice at her.
Isabelle was stubborn when she believed she was right.
And she didn't like being touched when she was angry.
“That's useful,” Elena said.
“Very.”
“Why?”
“Because if Victoria gets emotional and grabs you, you need to know how Isabelle would react.”
Elena smiled.
“You're really preparing me for everything.”
“No.”
Agnes looked at her.
“I'm preparing you for the things you won't be able to predict.”
Agnes pushed another photograph across the table. It showed Isabelle and Victoria sitting beneath a tree.
“What happened here?”
Elena studied it.
“I don't know.”
“Good.”
Elena looked up.
“Good?”
“You can't know everything. That's the point.”
Agnes took the photograph back.
“If Victoria asks about that day, don't invent a memory. Tell her you don't remember that particular moment.”
“That’s different from saying I don't remember anything.”
“Exactly.”
Then came the strawberry test.
Agnes placed a bowl of strawberries on the table.
“I want you to understand how easily something insignificant can expose you.”
She pushed the bowl toward Elena.
“Imagine you're having breakfast with the Sterling family. Eleanor offers you one.”
“I refuse.”
“How?”
“No, thank you.”
“And if she asks why?”
“I'm allergic.”
“Good. What if Victoria asks when the allergy started?”
Elena paused.
“I don't know.”
“Exactly. You don't know.”
Agnes pointed at her.
“The woman who raised you would be the one who knew.”
Elena nodded.
As evening approached, Agnes placed a small mirror in front of her.
“One last thing.”
Elena looked at her reflection.
“What?”
“Stop trying to look like Isabelle.”
Elena frowned.
“Then what am I supposed to do?”
“Look like yourself.”
“That doesn't make sense.”
“It will.”
Agnes sat beside her.
“You've spent all day trying to copy a little girl's expressions. Stop.”
She pointed toward one of the photographs.
“Isabelle was five when she disappeared. You're an adult now.”
Elena stared at the photograph.
“She grew up somewhere else.”
“Exactly.”
“So I'm not supposed to behave exactly like the child in those pictures.”
“No.”
Agnes smiled.
“You're supposed to be the woman that child might have become.”
Elena went silent.
That changed everything.
She didn't have to recreate Isabelle perfectly.
She only had to give the Sterling family enough pieces of their missing daughter to make them believe she had survived.
The gaps had an explanation.
But as she stared at the photographs, another thought came to her.
A story might not be enough.
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