Note: the last two chapters have been edited. Read them before proceeding.Imogene ScottI wake up to the sound of water running in the bathroom. The spot next to me in bed is cold, Damien already gone. The faint hum of the shower fills the room, but it does little to distract me from the heavy knot of guilt in my chest. Last night’s events play on a loop in my head—Damien’s disappointment, Lily’s tears, Sheila stepping in where I failed. I sit up slowly, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, and glance at the clock on the nightstand. It’s just after 6 a.m. Damien’s workday will start soon, and I don’t even know how to approach him after what happened. But more than that, I don’t know how to face Lily. I take a deep breath and swing my legs over the side of the bed. The floor is cool against my bare feet as I walk to the closet. Pulling open the door, I automatically grab one of Damien’s pressed shirts and a tie, laying them neatly on the bench by the foot of the bed. The shower contin
Imogene Scott As soon as Damien and Lily leave the house that morning, I take a moment to gather my thoughts together. From what I discovered yesterday, Terry and Lila used to be together but Lila left him to get married to my father. My question now is why Lila would date someone who had nothing, someone like Terry. Could it be because she needed access to something? The key he made for dad? I mean Terry made the key which is something seemingly important so that’s the only explanation.I shove the thought aside as I rush into the bathroom. The water in the shower is scalding, and I let it sting my skin as I hurriedly scrub myself clean. I need to see Lila again.After a quick change into dark jeans and a simple blouse, I head downstairs and I spot Sheila walking in through the front door. She’s carrying a small tote.“Good morning, Imogene,” she greets me.Her smile is bright and unnervingly warm. Something about Sheila stirs an uneasy feeling in me, though I can’t place it.
Damien Shaw I pull into the parking lot of Shaw Tech. I’m a little stressed from all the drama this morning. Between Lily's tantrums of her avoiding Imogene and Imogene’s sudden emotional distance. I can’t seem to focus. It feels like I’ve been juggling too many balls, and any minute now, one of them is bound to drop. I grab my briefcase from the passenger seat and step out, adjusting my tie as I walk toward the building. The elevator ride up is quick, and when the doors open to my office floor, Kia is already waiting by my door. Her crisp blouse and tightly pulled-back hair are as perfect as always."Good morning, Kia," I say as I step into my office. "Morning, sir," she replies, following me in. "We’ve got a problem." I drop my briefcase onto the desk and loosen my tie slightly. "Don’t tell me. Let me guess—Gerald still isn’t here." "You guessed right," she says. "Three days now without any notice. And sir, I don’t think it’s just a personal issue." I pause mid-reach
Imogene Scott The city stretches out in front of me as I drive. My fingers drum lightly against the steering wheel. How am I supposed to find out what this key unlocks? From what I’ve seen, Lila will continue to be tight-lipped. But at least I know how important the key is amd whatever “this is bigger than you.” threat she spilled isn’t going to scare me. I grip the wheel tighter. The dashboard clock flashes 2:45 PM, and I realize it’s almost time to pick up Lily. I push my thoughts aside, turning the car toward her school. When I pull up, I see Lily. She’s standing by the gate, clutching her little pink bag. Her mouth set in a pout. Normally, she runs to me the moment she sees the car. But today? Today, she walks. Slow. When she reaches the car, she opens the back door herself and climbs in, offering me only a quiet, "Hi, Mum," before clicking her seatbelt into place. When did my baby girl become such a grown up?"Hi, sweetheart," I say softly, turning in my seat to look at
Imogene Scott I sit frozen on the edge of the bed, staring at my phone screen, the words "Unknown Caller" still burned into my mind. The robotic voice from the call plays over and over again. “Whatever you think you’re doing, stop it now. Things might get ugly.”A chill runs through me, and I rub my arms, trying to shake it off. My mind races. Who was it? How do they know what I’m doing? And why now? The door creaks open, snapping me out of my thoughts. My heart jumps in my chest, and I instinctively clutch my phone tighter. But it’s Damien. Relief floods me, but only for a moment. His face is drawn. Something about him feels off. “Hey,” I say softly, rising from the bed. I move toward him and wrap my arms around him. He hugs me back, but it’s not the same. His body feels stiff, like he’s holding something back. I pull back and study his face. “Are you okay?” I ask. “Just work stress,” he mutters, brushing past me. Work stress? I know Damien better than that. He’s hid
Damien Shaw I walk into the office that morning, lost in thought. I can still feel Imogene’s body next to mine from last night. I wanted to ask her about Ville Road, but I don’t know how to do it without sounding accusatory. Without making her feel like I’m questioning her. Hell, I’ve never been good at that—asking the hard questions, digging into the things I want to know but don’t always want the answers to. I close my eyes briefly as I move down the hall. What the hell was she doing there? I tell myself I trust her. I do. I reach my office, push the door open, and step inside. The moment I do, I stop dead in my tracks. Kia’s pacing in front of my desk, her heels clicking against the floor. Her brows are furrowed, and she doesn’t even notice me until I clear my throat. “Mr Shaw,” she says, stopping. “Gerald dropped by earlier this morning.” I feel relief at the mention of Gerald’s name. “Gerald?” I repeat, still standing in the doorway. “I told you he was only caught u
Imogene Scott The air inside the car feels suffocating as I grip the steering wheel, my knuckles white against the leather. The phone call is still replaying in my head including my conversation with Lila. It wasn’t her that made the threatening call. I’m sure of it now. But if it wasn’t her, then who was it? I force myself to focus on the road ahead. My fingers tighten around the wheel as I take the familiar turn toward the hospital. The parking lot is half-empty. I pull into a spot near the entrance and kill the engine. For a moment, I sit there, staring at the hospital entrance. Six months. I rest a hand on my stomach to feel the faint stir of life within me. “We’re okay,” I whisper softly, but the weight in my chest doesn’t lift. I climb out of the car, the cool breeze biting against my skin as I cross the lot. The hospital doors slide open with a faint hiss, and I step into the sterile, overly bright lobby. When I reach Dr. Pepp’s office, she’s waiting for me. H
Damien ShawThe office feels suffocating tonight. It’s past 9 p.m., and I’ve been waiting all day for feedback about Gerald’s latest screw-up. Patience isn’t my strong suit, and right now, it’s wearing thin. I glance at my phone for what feels like the hundredth time. No messages. No missed calls. Not from Imogene. That’s what surprises me the most. She always checks in, even if it’s just a quick text. Maybe she’s just tired. The drive home is quiet. When I pull into the driveway, the house looks the same as it always does. I step out of the car and into the cool night air. Inside, the aroma of something faintly sweet greets me. Sheila’s in the kitchen, wiping down the counter. She looks up and smiles when she sees me. “Evening, Mr. Shaw,” she says cheerfully. “Long day?” “Yeah.” I drop my briefcase by the door and loosen my tie. “Where’s Imogene?” “She’s been asleep since this afternoon,” Sheila says. “I didn’t want to disturb her. She looked so tired.” I frown. “That’
Imogene Scott The first thing I notice when I wake up is the empty space beside me. The sheets are still warm, carrying the faint scent of Damien’s cologne, but he’s already gone. I sit up slowly, rubbing my eyes. The morning light filters through the curtains. The scent of something cooking drifts through the air—eggs, maybe omelets. I push the duvet off and slide my feet into my flip-flops. As I walk out of the bedroom and down the stairs, the soft sounds of laughter and clinking utensils become clearer. In the kitchen, Damien is standing by the stove, a spatula in one hand and an apron lazily tied around his waist. Lily is perched on a high chair, her small hands clapping together as she cheers him on. “Good morning, Mummy!” she says excitedly when she sees me. A tired smile pulls at my lips as I walk over. “Good morning, baby. How are you feeling?” I gently brush a strand of hair out of her face, studying her carefully. “I feel better now!” she announces proudly, her
Imogene ScottIt’s midnight, and I still can’t sleep. I lie on my back, staring at the ceiling because my mind refuses to quiet down. The room is dark except for the faint glow of moonlight seeping through the curtains. The house is silent. I curl my arms around my stomach, my fingers lightly tracing the curve of my belly. Two months. That’s all the time I have before the twins arrive, and yet I don’t feel ready. I barely feel capable of handling Lily some days. How am I supposed to take care of two more babies? I exhale slowly, willing the thoughts away, but they keep creeping back in. Damien was right about one thing—I’ve been forgetful lately. Not just little things like where I left my phone or if I locked the front door, but important things. I should have cleaned up the broken glass earlier. I should have been more careful. What if it had been worse? What if Lily had gotten seriously hurt because of me? My throat tightens. I know I should see a doctor, but the very
Damien ShawI let out a slow breath, my fingers pressing against my temples as I watch Imogene walk out of the room. The door doesn’t slam, but the sound of it clicking shut is just as final. My jaw tightens. Of course, she walked away. That’s what she does when she doesn’t want to hear something, shuts down, closes herself off. I loosen my tie, feeling the frustration settle in my chest. I hadn’t meant to start an argument. But how could she act like this wasn’t serious? It’s not just about her anymore. She’s been forgetting things more and more lately, and now Lily’s gotten hurt because of it. Just a small cut, sure. But what if it had been worse? What if she had stepped on something deeper, something that couldn’t be patched up with a bandage and a sticker? I exhale through my nose, rubbing a hand down my face. Fighting with Imogene never gets me anywhere. She’s stubborn. Too stubborn. But damn it, I don’t want to wake up one day and realize something terrible has happened be
Imogene Scott I carefully press the small, pastel-colored sticker onto the bandage covering Lily’s tiny foot. A smiling cartoon bear grins back at me, as if that alone can erase my guilt. I kiss her forehead, inhaling the soft, baby-powder scent of her hair. "I'm sorry, baby," I whisper, brushing a stray curl away from her face. Lily shifts on the couch, pulling the plush blanket over her lap. "It's not Mummy’s fault," she says in her small, serious voice. "Lily wasn’t careful." My heart clenches. Even at four, she’s trying to take the blame for something that’s entirely mine. I should’ve cleaned up the glass right away. I should’ve been more careful. I lift her tiny hand to my lips and kiss it. "Do you want me to get you anything?" Lily’s eyes brighten. "Chocolates!" I shake my head, smiling despite myself. "You know you can’t have sweets past seven, baby. It’s almost eight." "Please, Mummy?" She pouts, her big brown eyes glaring at me.I sigh. "Fine," I relent,
Imogene ScottI jolt awake, my breath coming in short, ragged gasps. For a moment, I don’t know where I am. The room is dimly lit, the heavy curtains keeping most of the daylight out. My heart is racing, my body damp with sweat. I sit up slowly, pressing a hand to my chest. The dream is already slipping away, but I know what it was about. Georgia. It’s always Georgia. My dreams are always about her. Mostly about that night she died.I exhale shakily and push a damp strand of hair from my face. My nightgown clings to my back, sticky with sweat. The dream lingers, making my skin prickle with unease. Why won’t these nightmares stop?I reach for the glass of water on my nightstand, desperate for something to soothe my dry throat, but my hand meets empty space. I blink, frowning. It’s always there. I always leave it there. And then I remember—I moved the jug before my nap. But where? I try to picture it, but my mind feels sluggish, foggy. Did I put it in the kitchen? On the dr
Damien Shaw I’m at my desk, working through a contract revision when Kia steps into my office. I don’t look up immediately, still focused on the document in front of me. “Sir, someone’s here to see you,” she says. I finally glance up, rubbing the bridge of my nose. The first thought that comes to mind is the damn principal. I hope he hasn’t shown up here to grovel in person. I already made it clear—either they fix their behavior toward Lily, or I pull every last cent I’ve donated to that school. I don’t need another pointless apology. But when the door opens wider, it’s not the principal. It’s Sheila. I frown, leaning back in my chair as I take her in. She looks… fine. Not sick. But Imogene told me Sheila was unwell and wouldn’t be coming in for a few days. So what the hell is she doing here? “Sheila,” I say, watching her carefully. “Mr. Shaw.” She nods in greeting. “What are you doing here?” My tone is sharp.She offers a small smile, shifting on her feet. “I was
Imogene ScottI take my time getting Lily ready for school the next morning. With Sheila still sick and not coming in, the task is entirely mine, and I don’t mind. I cherish these moments—though today, my mind feels sluggish. I’m bothered by Georgia’s bracelet I found yesterday and the strange sense of forgetfulness creeping into my life lately. Lily sits on the edge of my bed, swinging her little legs back and forth as I button up her white blouse. She tilts her head back to look up at me.“Mommy, what’s wrong?” she asks. I pause for a second, startled. “Nothing, baby.” I smooth down her collar, making sure it sits perfectly. “I just want to remind you that if anything happens at school, if you feel sick or if someone makes you uncomfortable, you have to tell me, okay?” Lily nods, her curls bouncing with the movement. “Yes, Mommy.” “That’s my good girl.” I kiss the top of her head and take her small hand in mine, as I lead her out of the house. The drive to school is fi
Imogene Scott Lily giggles as she picks at the last piece of her banana pancake. Her tiny fingers are sticky with syrup. I watch her as I rest my head against the back of the chair. But my mind is somewhere else. The bracelet. I close my eyes and tilt my head back, staring up at the ceiling as if the answer is hidden somewhere in the cracks. Did I put it there? Had I forgotten? That’s the only logical explanation. Lately, I’ve been forgetful—missing appointments, losing track of time, misplacing things. Maybe this is just another slip, another thing lost in the chaos of my mind. But it doesn’t feel right. I inhale deeply, my fingers curling into my lap. I need to see it again. “Lily, baby, I’ll be right back,” I say, pushing my chair back. She nods, too focused on her food to question me. I walk upstairs slowly, each step. When I reach my bedroom, I hesitate for a moment before stepping inside. The room is dim. I make my way to the dresser. The drawer creaks
Imogene Scott Lily swings her legs under the table, her tiny feet barely brushing the ground as she happily digs into her mint chocolate ice cream. A small smear of green is at the corner of her mouth. She hums quietly as she eats, completely lost in her own little world. I should be able to enjoy this moment. Watching her be this happy should bring me peace, but it doesn’t. My stomach twists as I stare at her even though my own ice cream is melting in the cup. This is my fault. I shouldn’t have let things get this far. I shouldn’t have let my past mistakes bleed into Lily’s life. She’s just a child, my child, and she deserves to grow up without the weight of my sins pressing down on her. She looks up suddenly, “Mommy, are you okay?” I force a smile, even though my face feels stiff. “Of course, baby.” Lily nods, satisfied with my answer, and goes back to her ice cream. “Very good, Mommy,” she says in her soft, sweet voice before taking another spoonful. I w