Chapter 10: A New Identity
1897 Words
POV: Elena Carter
“Yes,” Agnes said. “Victoria was with her.”
Elena's attention sharpened.
“Then what happened?”
“There was an argument inside the house. Everyone was distracted. Shortly afterward, I saw Victoria and Isabelle near the garden.”
“And then?”
“Victoria came back alone.”
Elena went still.
“Where was Isabelle?”
Agnes's expression darkened.
“That's what no one has ever been able to answer.”
“Did Victoria explain what happened?”
“She said Isabelle had been playing nearby. She claimed she only looked away for a moment.”
“You don't believe her.”
Agnes remained silent.
“Agnes.”
The older woman finally looked at her.
“I believe something happened that day. Something the Sterling family never fully explained.”
“And you think Victoria knows what it is?”
“I think she was one of the last people to see Isabelle before she disappeared.”
Agnes picked up the photograph.
“But if you're going to enter that family, you need to understand something.”
Elena looked up.
“Victoria wasn't just the last person with Isabelle.”
Agnes's expression tightened.
“She was the person Isabelle trusted most.”
Elena stared at the photograph in her hands.
Isabelle Sterling was smiling.
Five years old. A pale dress, a ribbon in her hair, and a face far too innocent to carry the weight of the plan Elena was building around it.
She looked at the photograph, then at her reflection.
“I don't know if I can do this.”
Agnes didn't answer immediately.
“Good.”
Elena turned.
“Good?”
“If you were completely confident, I'd be worried.”
Agnes took the photograph from her.
“You aren't becoming Isabelle because you want to play a part. You're doing it because you want to enter a family that has everything to lose.”
Elena's expression hardened.
“Then teach me.”
Agnes nodded.
“That's what we're going to do.”
She placed the photograph on the table.
“Let's start with Victoria.”
Elena's eyes narrowed.
“What about her?”
“You've been thinking about her as the woman connected to your sister's death. That's Elena thinking.”
Agnes pointed toward the photograph.
“Isabelle didn't see Victoria that way. She saw her as her big sister.”
Elena looked away.
“That bothers you.”
“She doesn't deserve my sympathy.”
“I'm not asking you to sympathize with her. I'm asking you to understand Isabelle.”
Elena looked back at the photograph.
“Fine.”
“Now imagine Victoria walks through that door.”
“She'd probably ask where I've been.”
“Wrong.”
Elena frowned.
“You don't know that.”
“I do. Victoria would stare at you first because she'd be looking for her sister.”
Elena's stomach tightened.
“And then?”
“She'd probably cry.”
Elena looked away.
“Isabelle was shy when overwhelmed. She wouldn't immediately throw her arms around Victoria.”
“So I'd freeze first.”
“Exactly.”
Elena tried to picture it.
Victoria standing in front of her, the woman she believed had something to do with Vivian's death, while Elena pretended to be the little sister Victoria had lost years ago.
Her stomach twisted.
The lessons continued.
Agnes showed her photograph after photograph. Some were formal family portraits. Others captured ordinary moments.
“She was stubborn,” Agnes said.
“You've mentioned that.”
“Because you'll need to know.”
“She hated being told no.”
“That sounds familiar.”
Agnes raised an eyebrow.
“Sorry.”
“Don't confuse yourself with her. That's the easiest mistake you can make.”
Elena looked at her.
“What's the difference?”
“You're doing this for revenge.”
Agnes paused.
“Isabelle wasn't.”
The words struck Elena harder than expected.
She looked down at the photograph. A little girl who had no idea her identity would one day become someone else's weapon.
Elena felt guilty.
Then Vivian's face came to mind.
The guilt disappeared.
“Stand up.”
Elena frowned.
“What?”
“Stand up.”
She obeyed.
Agnes walked around her.
“How does Isabelle walk?”
“I don't know.”
“Exactly. Walk to the door.”
Elena did.
“Again.”
She repeated it.
“You're too careful.”
“What does that mean?”
“You're walking like someone trying to remember how to walk.”
Elena sighed.
“This is ridiculous.”
Agnes smiled.
“Good. You're getting frustrated.”
“What?”
“Isabelle got frustrated easily.”
For the first time that day, Elena laughed.
“Now we're getting somewhere.”
Later, Agnes tested her.
“What did Isabelle call Victoria?”
“Vicky.”
“Favorite flower?”
“Sunflowers.”
“What frightened her?”
“Thunderstorms.”
“What did she love?”
“Music.”
“What did she hate?”
“Peas.”
“What did she do when she was nervous?”
“She bit the inside of her cheek.”
“What did she do when embarrassed?”
Elena paused.
“I don't know.”
“She played with the ribbon in her hair.”
Elena wrote it down.
“What happens when someone asks you something you don't remember?”
“I say I don't remember.”
“And if you think you know?”
“I don't guess.”
“Good.”
Agnes slid a glass of juice toward her.
“What is this?”
“Drink it.”
Elena took a sip.
“What did you just drink?”
“Orange juice.”
“Would Isabelle drink it?”
Elena shrugged.
“Why wouldn't she?”
“Because she didn't like pulp.”
Elena paused.
“How am I supposed to know things like that?”
“That's why you're here.”
Agnes leaned forward.
“There's another one. Strawberries.”
Elena waited.
“Isabelle was allergic to them.”
Elena's eyes widened.
“Seriously?”
“Very. Her skin would break out in hives, and she carried medication for it.”
Elena immediately wrote it down.
“Would Victoria know?”
“Victoria would definitely know.”
Elena's fingers tightened around the pen.
That was the problem.
The family wouldn't simply test her memory. They could test her without even realizing it.
As evening approached, Agnes brought out a small mirror.
“One last thing.”
Elena looked at herself.
“Your expression.”
“My expression?”
“Isabelle smiled differently.”
Agnes demonstrated a subtle, warm, almost playful smile.
Elena tried copying it.
“No.”
She tried again.
“Still wrong.”
“How can a smile be wrong?”
“Because it's yours.”
Elena stared at her.
Agnes's expression softened.
“That's what makes this dangerous.”
For hours, Elena had been learning how to walk, speak, react, and smile like a girl who had disappeared years ago.
But no matter how much she practiced, the person in the mirror was still Elena.
And that was the one thing she couldn't afford.
She picked up Isabelle's photograph.
“I'll get it.”
Agnes watched her.
“You'd better.”
Elena placed the photograph beside the mirror.
For a moment, she imagined what it would look like when the Sterling family saw her.
Would they cry?
Would they believe her?
Would Victoria run toward her?
Would Richard and Eleanor finally get back the daughter they had spent years mourning?
Elena's stomach twisted.
None of them would know the truth.
None would know the girl standing before them was there for something else entirely.
Revenge.
She looked at Isabelle's photograph one last time.
“I'm sorry.”
Agnes heard her.
“For what?”
“For using her.”
Agnes's expression softened.
“Then don't use her.”
Elena looked at her.
“Become her.”
Silence filled the room.
Elena slowly nodded.
She put the photograph into her bag.
“That's enough for today,” Agnes said.
Elena stood, exhausted but more prepared than when she'd arrived.
She had learned Isabelle's habits, fears, and favorite things.
But there was still so much she didn't know.
As Elena reached the door, Agnes spoke.
“Wait.”
Elena turned.
“There's one more thing we haven't discussed.”
“What?”
“Isabelle's relationship with her mother.”
Elena's expression softened.
“I know she was close to her.”
“Close isn't the word I'd use.”
Agnes pulled out another photograph. It showed Isabelle sitting beside her mother.
“What was special about them?”
“They had a little ritual.”
Elena looked at Agnes.
“What kind?”
“Whenever Isabelle was frightened, her mother would hold her hand and tap her thumb three times.”
Elena listened carefully.
“Then Isabelle would tap back.”
“Three times?”
“Always.”
Elena nodded.
“And that's all?”
Agnes's smile disappeared.
“No. Her mother still does it.”
“Still?”
“Every birthday. Every Christmas. Whenever she visits Isabelle's old room.”
Elena stared at her.
“After all these years?”
“She never stopped.”
Agnes stepped closer.
“If you return to that house, Elena, Eleanor won't need to ask you who you are.”
Elena looked up.
“What will she do?”
“She'll hold your hand.”
A chill ran through Elena.
“And she'll wait.”
“Wait for what?”
“For Isabelle to tap back.”
Elena couldn't breathe for a moment.
She had prepared herself for questions, memories, and even Victoria's suspicion.
But she had never considered something so simple.
Something so intimate.
She looked down at her own hand.
“Then I have to learn it.”
Agnes shook her head.
“No.”
Elena frowned.
“You have to learn more than that.”
Agnes picked up another photograph.
“This was taken shortly before Isabelle disappeared.”
Elena stepped closer.
Isabelle was standing in the garden, smiling at the camera.
“What am I looking for?”
Agnes pointed toward the girl's left hand.
Elena narrowed her eyes.
“She has a scar.”
Agnes nodded.
“A very small one.”
“What happened?”
“She fell against the edge of a table when she was four.”
Elena looked back at the photograph.
The scar was barely visible.
“Why are you telling me this?”
Agnes's expression changed.
“Because if you're going to become Isabelle, you need to know everything about her.”
Elena swallowed.
“And?”
Agnes's voice dropped.
“If someone notices that you don't have it, Elena, they may immediately know you're not Isabelle.”
Elena's blood ran cold.
She had never considered that her own body could betray her.
Agnes closed the box.
“Tomorrow,” she said, “we start from the beginning.”
Elena stared at the box.
Becoming Isabelle didn't feel like a distant plan anymore.
It felt dangerously close.
And Elena suddenly understood something that frightened her more than anything Agnes had told her so far.
The people who loved Isabelle would be the hardest people to fool.
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