Chapter Three: The Sister Who Never Existed
1572 Words
Amelia, you're not supposed to be alive.”
Cassian's words hung between them like a death sentence.
For several seconds, Amelia couldn't move. She searched his face, desperately hoping he would take the words back, laugh at the absurdity of them, or explain that his damaged memory had betrayed him.
He did none of those things.
“What do you mean?” she whispered. “Cassian, what do you know about me?”
His gaze flickered toward Detective Reed, then returned to her.
“Not here.”
Amelia stepped away from him. “You don't get to decide when I deserve the truth. My mother has been kidn*pped, the police think I'm a murderer, and now you're telling me I shouldn't be alive?”
“I'm trying to protect you.”
“From whom? Your family? The police? Or yourself?”
Pain crossed his face, but he didn't answer.
Detective Reed rose from his chair. “Mr. Hale, I suggest you start explaining before I decide you're withholding evidence in a murder investigation.”
Cassian's expression hardened. “If I had the answers, Detective, I would give them to her.”
“Then why do you look as though you've just seen a ghost?”
Before Cassian could respond, Amelia's phone vibrated inside the evidence bag on the table. Reed retrieved it and checked the screen.
An unknown number.
A message appeared.
Midnight. The old Hale boathouse. Come alone if you want your mother alive.
Below it was a second message.
Bring Cassian. He owes us a daughter.
Amelia's blood ran cold.
“What does that mean?” she demanded.
Cassian stared at the screen. The color drained from his face.
Then he whispered a name.
“Victoria.”
---
By ten that evening, Cassian had secured Amelia's temporary release while the police investigated the new threat. His attorney had warned him that taking her anywhere near the boathouse could jeopardize the case, but Cassian ignored the advice.
Amelia sat beside him in his black car, watching the city lights blur across the window.
“You knew Victoria was involved,” she said.
“I suspect she knows more than she's admitting.”
“She's your stepmother, isn't she?”
“Yes.”
“And she might know what happened to my mother.”
Cassian tightened his grip on the steering wheel. “Which is why you're staying in the car when we arrive.”
Amelia turned toward him. “You cannot keep treating me like someone who needs to be locked away for her own good.”
“I'm not trying to control you.”
“Then stop making decisions about my life without asking me.”
He glanced at her, and the anger in his eyes gave way to exhaustion.
“You want the truth? I'm terrified.” His voice dropped. “Every time I remember something about that night, someone else gets hurt. I can handle losing my company, my money, even my life. But the thought of watching something happen to you because of me—”
He stopped.
Amelia's anger softened despite herself.
“Cassian…”
He reached for her hand. His thumb brushed over her knuckles, and for a moment, the ruthless CEO seemed like a man who had spent years fighting a battle he couldn't remember starting.
“I don't know why I feel this way about you,” he admitted. “But I know I can't lose you again.”
“Again?” she whispered.
His eyes widened slightly, as if he hadn't meant to say it.
Before she could question him, the car stopped beside the abandoned boathouse.
The lake beyond it was black beneath the moonlight.
A single light burned inside the building.
Cassian released her hand and reached beneath his jacket for his phone.
“Stay close to me.”
This time, Amelia didn't argue.
Not because she trusted him completely, but because she had begun to fear that the truth connecting them was far more dangerous than either of them understood.
---
The boathouse door creaked open.
“Mother!” Amelia called.
A chair stood in the center of the room, its ropes hanging loose. Grace was gone.
On the floor lay a silver pendant.
Amelia recognized it immediately. Her mother had worn it for as long as she could remember, refusing to let anyone touch it.
She picked it up with trembling fingers.
Cassian went rigid. “Where did you get that?” he asked.
“It belongs to my mother.”
He took a step closer, staring at the pendant as though it had appeared in a nightmare.
“That's impossible.”
“Why?”
He turned it over. On the back were two engraved initials: A.H.
Amelia frowned. “What does A.H. mean?”
Cassian didn't answer. Instead, he pressed a hidden catch beneath the clasp.
The pendant opened.
Inside were two tiny photographs of baby girls, each wrapped in a white blanket. On the back of one photograph, someone had written a date and a name.
Amelia Hale.
Amelia's knees weakened.
“No.”
Cassian caught her before she fell, his arms closing around her waist.
“Look at me,” he urged. “Breathe.”
She clutched his jacket, staring at the photograph.
“My name is Amelia Bennett.”
“I know.”
“My mother is Grace Bennett.”
“I know that too.”
“Then why is my name written on a photograph inside her pendant with your family initials?”
Cassian had no answer.
For several seconds, they stood close together, the mystery pressing around them. His hand rested against her back, warm and steady. She hated how much she wanted to lean into him, how his presence could quiet the panic even when he was part of the reason she was afraid.
Then a sound came from the darkness beyond the storage room.
A slow clap.
Victoria Hale stepped into the light, impeccably dressed in a cream coat, as if she had arrived for a dinner party rather than a midnight confrontation.
“You were always curious, Amelia,” she said. “That was your mother's greatest mistake.”
Cassian moved in front of Amelia. “Where is Grace?”
“Safe, for now.”
“Tell me where she is.”
Victoria smiled faintly. “Still giving orders, Cassian? You haven't changed at all.”
“Neither have you.”
Her gaze moved to the open pendant in Amelia's hand.
“So you've found it.”
“Explain this,” Amelia demanded. “Why does this photograph say Amelia Hale?”
Victoria's smile disappeared.
“Because your mother stole you from us.”
The words struck Amelia harder than a physical blow.
“Stole me?”
“You were born into this family. Your mother worked for us. She took you away after the accident and convinced everyone you were dead.”
Cassian stared at Victoria. “You told me the baby died.”
“And you believed me.” Her voice sharpened. “You were grieving, confused, and barely conscious after your accident. It was easy to make you believe whatever I needed you to believe.”
A flicker of pain crossed his face.
Amelia stepped out from behind him. “If I'm Hale, who was the other baby?”
Victoria's eyes settled on her.
For the first time, genuine fear flickered across the older woman's face.
“Your sister.” Amelia's heart hammered.
“Where is she?”
Victoria looked at Cassian before answering.
“Isabelle Laurent.”
Silence swallowed the room.
The murdered woman. The woman Cassian couldn't remember. The woman whose death had somehow become Amelia's burden.
Amelia shook her head. “You're lying.”
“Am I?” Victoria asked. “Ask Cassian why he was with Isabelle the night she died. Ask him what he promised her.”
Cassian pressed a hand against his temple. His breathing grew ragged.
Images flashed through his mind: a woman crying, a bloodstained dress, a door slamming, and a voice begging him not to trust Victoria.
Then came a scream.
He staggered.
Amelia caught his arm. “Cassian!”
His eyes found hers, filled with horror.
“I remember the boathouse,” he whispered. “I remember Isabelle.”
Victoria moved toward the door.
“Where are you going?” Amelia demanded.
“To finish what your mother interrupted five years ago.”
Cassian lunged for her, but she slipped outside and disappeared into the darkness.
Amelia ran after her.
A sharp c***k split the night.
Cassian pulled Amelia to the ground as a bullet struck the wooden door above them.
He covered her with his body, his breath warm against her cheek.
“Stay down,” he ordered. Then his phone rang.
He answered without taking his eyes off the darkness.
A distorted voice spoke through the speaker.
“Congratulations, Cassian. You've finally remembered the night Isabelle died.”
Cassian went pale. The voice continued.
“Now tell Amelia the truth about which one of you pulled the trigger.”
The call ended.
Amelia slowly lifted her head and stared at the man shielding her.
“Cassian,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “Did you kill my sister?”
He looked at her, unable to speak.
Then a second gunshot rang out from inside the boathouse—and Cassian collapsed on top of her.
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