Chapter 6
664 Words
BLOOD DOESN’T LIE
We reached the downstairs hallway.
Mother was standing beside the front door.
She was staring at something on the floor.
Marcus was beside her.
His face was pale.
I pushed through them.
“What happened?”
Nobody answered.
Then I saw it.
Blood.
A single line of blood stretched across the marble floor.
From the front door…
to the staircase.
I looked at Mother.
“Are you hurt?”
She shook her head.
“No.”
“Then whose blood is that?”
Marcus looked toward the open front door.
“I don’t know.”
I almost laughed.
Of course.
Another secret.
Another lie.
Then I saw something lying in the blood.
A silver necklace.
I picked it up.
My mother gasped.
“Where did you get that?”
“I found it here.”
She stared at the necklace.
Her face crumbled.
“It’s hers.”
“Isabella’s?”
Mother nodded.
“She wore that the night she was taken.”
I looked toward the open door.
Rain poured outside.
Someone had been here.
My sister.
Or someone pretending to be her.
Adrian suddenly appeared at the top of the staircase.
His eyes immediately went to the necklace.
“What happened?”
I held it up.
“We found this.”
Adrian walked down slowly.
He took one look at it.
Then looked at Mother.
“You knew.”
Mother said nothing.
Adrian’s voice hardened.
“You knew she was alive.”
Mother started crying.
Adrian stepped closer.
“Where is she?”
“I don’t know.”
“You’re lying.”
Marcus stepped between them.
“That’s enough.”
Adrian shoved him aside.
“Twenty-five years.”
Marcus stumbled backward.
“Adrian.”
“You let me believe she was dead.”
“I didn’t know.”
“You knew enough.”
I looked between them.
“What the hell is going on?”
Adrian turned toward me.
“Your sister wasn’t the only person taken that night.”
I frowned.
“What do you mean?”
He stared at Mother.
Then he said:
“Your mother didn’t give birth to two children.”
My heart stopped.
“What?”
Adrian looked at me.
“There were three.”
The room went silent.
“Three babies were born that night.”
I felt the world disappear beneath my feet.
Three.
Not two.
Three.
Adrian continued.
“And one of them wasn’t a Marlowe.”
I looked at Mother.
She was crying.
I looked at Marcus.
He couldn’t meet my eyes.
Then I looked at the blood on the floor.
Suddenly, a terrible thought entered my mind.
“What happened to the third baby?”
Nobody answered.
Adrian slowly looked toward the staircase.
His expression was filled with dread.
“That’s what your father died trying to find out.”
A floorboard creaked above us.
Everyone looked up.
A woman’s voice drifted down from the darkness.
“Maybe I can tell you.”
We froze.
A figure appeared at the top of the stairs.
Long dark hair.
Hazel eyes.
A scar above her eyebrow.
My face.
My blood.
My sister.
She looked directly at me.
Then smiled.
“Hello, Elena.”
She slowly descended the stairs.
And behind her stood another woman.
My mother screamed.
“No…”
I stared at the woman behind Isabella.
I knew that face.
I had seen it in the old photograph.
I had spent years believing she was dead.
But she wasn’t.
She was standing right there.
And she was holding a gun.
Adrian stepped in front of me.
“Elena, don’t move.”
The woman smiled.
“Adrian Cross.”
She raised the gun.
“It’s been a long time.”
Adrian’s face went pale.
“You’re supposed to be dead.”
She laughed.
“So was your father.”
Then she aimed the gun directly at me.
“And now…”
Her finger tightened around the trigger.
“…it’s your turn.”
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