Maria Reyes
The oil lamp in my childhood room didn’t give much light. The corners stayed dark. I sat on my bed, holding a leather photo album. It felt heavy in my hands. I opened it and looked at pictures of Eleanor. Her eyes were hazel, like mine. The more I stared, the more I thought she might be my mother. That would mean Darian was my half-brother. The idea made me feel sick. I remembered being with him at the Wolfe Hotel. It felt wrong now, knowing we might be related.
I was also worried about Naomi. She wasn’t answering her phone. Her last text said, "Can’t talk now. In a meeting."
But it was sent at a strange time. Naomi always picked up my calls. Something wasn’t right. I felt trapped in the Reyes mansion. My father’s guards were outside my door, watching me. They worked for hi
