The air between us crackled with tension as Richard—or Leon—stood there, his face shadowed under the chandelier's light. My breath caught in my throat as every nerve in my body screamed at me to demand the truth.But his expression stopped me cold. There was something different about him. A determination, a vulnerability I hadn't seen in Richard before. It was hauntingly familiar, like the Leon I had known, but more guarded.“Margarette,” he said softly, stepping closer. “Please, we need to talk. Privately.”I folded my arms tightly across my chest, willing my voice not to betray the storm raging inside me. “You’ve got a lot of nerve coming here after everything, don’t you think?”He sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. “I know how this looks. But I need you to hear me out.”“Do you?” My voice came out sharper than I intended, but I didn’t care. “Do you need me to hear how you let me think you were dead for over a year? How you’ve been parading around as someone else with a new wi
The moment Richard walked into my house, the tension between us was palpable. I stood by the window, arms crossed, gazing out at the city lights, trying to calm the storm brewing inside me. His footsteps were deliberate, measured, as if he wasn’t sure whether to sit or stand."Margarette," he began softly, "we need to talk."I turned to face him, meeting his steady gaze. For a second, my heart betrayed me, skipping a beat at the sight of him—so familiar yet so distant. But the pain of his denial and rejection quickly replaced any warmth I felt."We've been talking," I said coldly. "And all you've been doing is denying who you are, Leon. Or should I say Richard?"He flinched slightly at the name, his jaw tightening. "I came here because I need you to stop," he said firmly. "You’re not just hurting yourself; you’re hurting me. And Sarah."At the mention of her name, a bitter laugh escaped my lips. "Sarah? Of course. Why wouldn’t she be the center of your world now? She’s the reason you’r
Perhaps the weight of the conversation made the phone feel heavier than usual against my ear.“Do you understand, Greg?” I spoke, attempting to maintain a steady tone. “I need everything about Richard Ledesma—his past, his present, and any connection he might have had to Leon.”“Yes, Ms. Margarette,” the investigator replied on the other end of the line. “I’m already on it. I’ve found some leads that suggest Richard’s timeline before meeting Sarah isn’t as clear as he claims. I’ll update you within the next few days.”“Good,” I murmured, my grip tightening on the phone. “Keep me posted.”I ended the call and stared at the device in my hand, my heart pounding. There was progress, but it still wasn’t enough. I needed more. I needed something solid—something undeniable—to expose Richard for who he truly was.Just as I placed the phone on the table, I felt the couch shift beside me. Turning my head, I found William sitting down, his face calm but his eyes carrying a weight I hadn’t notice
Guilt had a way of lingering, clinging to the edges of my thoughts like a shadow I couldn’t shake. Ever since my conversation with William yesterday, his words had played on a loop in my mind: “Sometimes, I wonder if I’m just a placeholder until you find what you’re really looking for.”I hated how true those words felt. William had always been there for me, patient and supportive, even when I was consumed by my search for answers about Leon—or Richard, as he now called himself. But in my quest for the truth, I’d been blind to the toll it had taken on the one person who stood by me unconditionally.Sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee growing cold in front of me, I decided I needed to make things right. I couldn’t erase the hurt I’d caused, but I could try to show William how much he meant to me.By late morning, I was on my way to William’s office. I’d packed a small box of his favorite pastries and coffee from the café he loved, hoping it would serve as a peace offering
The evening air was heavy with the scent of cedar as I stepped into my house in Anacortes. The soft yellow glow of the lamps couldn’t ease the turmoil inside me. My hands trembled as I closed the door behind me, my heart still racing from everything I’d witnessed earlier at William’s office.“Lena?” I called out, my voice wavering as I made my way down the hallway.“In here!” came her cheerful reply from the living room.When I stepped inside, Lena was lounging on the couch, her laptop balanced on her knees. She looked up at me, her face immediately clouding with concern.“What’s wrong?” she asked, setting her laptop aside and standing.I didn’t have the energy to answer her question directly. Instead, I blurted out, “I need your help packing.”Lena’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Packing? For what?”“I’ve booked a flight to Vancouver tomorrow morning,” I replied, trying to keep my voice steady. “We’re going home.”Lena stared at me, wide-eyed. “Wait, what? Home? Why? What’s going on?
The morning sun filtered through the sheer curtains of Aunt Lou’s cozy living room, casting soft patterns across the wooden floors. I sat cross-legged on the couch, a mug of tea warming my hands. Across from me, Aunt Lou watched me intently, her eyes full of concern and patience.“It’s been days, Margarette,” she said softly, breaking the silence. “You’ve barely talked about what’s going on.”I sighed, staring into the swirling tea. “There’s not much to say,” I murmured, though the knot in my chest told a different story. “I saw William with that woman, Aunt Lou. She was fixing his tie, laughing like they shared some private joke. And William... he didn’t even look guilty.”Aunt Lou leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “But did you hear his explanation? Maybe it wasn’t what it looked like.”I shook my head. “I left before he could say anything. And now, the more I think about it, the more I feel like no explanation would change how I felt in that moment. My gut tells me so
The following day dawned with a heaviness that I couldn’t shake. Aunt Lou’s advice lingered in my mind like a persistent whisper: Start with yourself. But how could I, when the weight of everything felt so unbearable?I stood in the kitchen, idly stirring a pot of oatmeal for Lucas. He sat at the table, coloring a picture of what he proudly told me was “Mommy and me at the park.” His innocent smile tugged at my heart, reminding me that no matter how chaotic my life felt, Lucas deserved a mother who was present and strong.As the oatmeal bubbled, Aunt Lou appeared in the doorway, holding a newspaper in one hand and her ever-present mug of tea in the other.“Good morning, dear,” she said, setting the paper on the counter. “How are you feeling today?”“Same as yesterday,” I admitted, sighing. “Confused, tired, unsure about everything.”She nodded knowingly. “It’s a process, Margarette. You’re doing the best you can, and that’s all anyone can ask.”Lucas looked up from his drawing. “Mommy
The sun dipped below the horizon, painting the Vancouver skyline in hues of orange and pink. The warmth of the day lingered in the air, but my thoughts felt as cold as a winter wind. I sat in the living room, absently watching Lucas build a tower with his wooden blocks. His little giggles filled the room, but my heart was heavy with the burden of unresolved emotions.Aunt Lou was in the kitchen, humming softly as she prepared tea. The tranquility of the scene was disrupted by the buzzing of my phone. My heart sank when I saw the name flashing on the screen: William.I stared at the phone, debating whether to answer, but ultimately let it go to voicemail. I had made it clear I needed time. Yet, a part of me wondered if I was avoiding him not because of anger, but because of fear—fear that his explanation might force me to confront the possibility that I’d been wrong.The next morning, as sunlight streamed through the kitchen windows, Aunt Lou set down two steaming mugs of coffee and sat
Darkness swallowed me whole.For a moment, I thought I was dead. The gunshot still rang in my ears, deafening, all-consuming. But then, pain—sharp and searing—bloomed along my side, pulling me back from the abyss. My breath came in ragged gasps as my knees buckled, and I felt myself falling.Strong arms caught me before I hit the ground.“Margarette!” Leon’s voice was raw with panic. His hands pressed against my wound, trying to staunch the bleeding. The warmth of my own blood seeped through my clothes, sticky against my skin. Dorian fired, his shot echoing through the cavernous estate.Elise let out a sharp cry, staggering back. But even as she bled, her cruel smile remained. “Not bad,” she whispered, clutching her shoulder where Dorian’s bullet had struck her. “But not enough.”Leon lifted me, his grip firm but desperate. “We need to move. Now.”“No,” I gritted out, fighting through the pain. “We finish this.”Dorian cursed. “Are you insane? You’re bleeding out!”I forced myself to
Gunfire tore through the air, glass raining down around us as we hit the ground. The sharp sound of bullets striking wood and metal sent my heart into a frantic rhythm. Leon grabbed me, shielding my body as we crawled behind the heavy oak desk.“Dorian?” Leon’s voice was sharp, controlled despite the chaos.“I’m fine,” Dorian called from behind a toppled chair. He moved fast, drawing his gun and firing two precise shots toward the broken windows. A pained grunt told us he had hit his mark.Vincent, the smug bastard, was still in his chair, completely unbothered by the attack.“This is cute,” he mused, swirling the whiskey in his glass. “But you should know by now—I never play fair.”Leon turned his gun on him. “Call them off.”Vincent only smiled.I gritted my teeth. “Damn it, Vincent, this isn’t a game! Who the hell is shooting at us?”The door burst open, and three armed men stormed in.Dorian moved first. He lunged at the closest attacker, his blade flashing in the dim light. The m
The safe house felt suffocating, the air thick with unspoken tension. Every second we wasted gave Vincent more time to prepare. More time to strike.I wasn’t going to let that happen.Leon stood by the table, his hands braced against the surface, muscles tight with frustration. Dorian, despite the pain from his injury, sat nearby, flipping a knife between his fingers—a habit he had when deep in thought.“We need a lead,” Leon finally said, his voice low and controlled. “We can’t storm in blind.”I paced near the window, arms crossed. “We do have a lead. This locket.” I held it up, the metal catching the dim light. “Vincent had it for a reason. He wanted me to see it. Why?”Dorian exhaled sharply. “Because he’s playing with you.”I shook my head. “No. There’s more to it. He wouldn’t go through the trouble of planting something from my past just to taunt me. He wants me to remember something.”Leon’s gaze darkened. “Then let’s start at the beginning. The night of the accident.”My throa
The salty night air carried the hum of distant ship engines and the occasional murmur of dock workers. But this wasn’t just a routine shipment—this was a calculated exchange of power, a moment that could unravel everything Elise’s father had hidden for years.I crouched behind a stack of shipping containers with Leon beside me. Dorian’s team was spread out, positioned along the pier, watching, waiting. A dark van was parked near the edge of the dock, its back doors open. Men in suits moved between the van and the cargo, transferring crates that likely held more than just money.Leon’s voice was low in my ear. “Four men on the ground, two near the van. More could be inside.”I nodded, my gaze locked on the crates. “That’s not just cash, Leon. That’s leverage. He wouldn’t move it unless he was running scared.”Dorian’s voice crackled through our earpieces. “We take them now, we risk losing the files. We wait too long, we risk backup showing up.”I made the decision before anyone else co
Dorian smirked. “Relax, lover boy. I’m not saying she’s defenseless—I’m saying we need to be smart about this.”Leon’s glare didn’t waver, but he didn’t argue either. He knew Dorian was right.I exhaled, my fingers tightening around the locket that had started all of this. “So what do we do?”Dorian sighed. “You have two choices: disappear and hope they forget about you… or go after them first.”Leon tensed beside me. “You’re suggesting we take the fight to them?”Dorian shrugged. “Elise’s father had powerful connections. Some of them might scatter now that he’s locked up, but the smart ones? They’ll wait. Watch. See what you do next.”I swallowed hard. “Then we don’t give them time to plan.”Leon turned to me, his expression dark. “You’re sure about this?”I met his gaze. “I didn’t come this far just to hide.”Dorian grinned. “That’s what I was hoping you’d say.”Alexa shifted uncomfortably. “I wish I had your courage.”I reached for her hand. “You have more than you think.”She gave
The night before our departure, I barely slept. The weight of the locket pressed against my collarbone, a silent reminder that my past was no longer buried—it was clawing its way back to the surface.Leon must have sensed my restlessness because he found me in the kitchen before dawn, staring into my untouched cup of coffee.“You’re thinking too much.”I let out a breathless laugh, shaking my head. “You always say that.”“Because it’s always true.” He leaned against the counter, arms crossed. “Second thoughts?”“No,” I said. “Just… doubts. What if I don’t find the answers I’m looking for? What if I’m just chasing ghosts?”Leon studied me for a long moment before stepping closer, his fingers grazing the locket at my neck. “Then we chase them together.”My chest tightened at the quiet intensity in his voice.Before I could respond, Dorian’s voice cut through the stillness. “Time to go.”The drive to the estate was long and silent. Alexa had insisted on coming, despite her injuries. She
The moment Elise’s father whistled, chaos erupted. Gunfire cracked through the air, sending dock workers scattering. Shadows moved between the containers—his men, heavily armed and ready.Leon pulled me behind a stack of crates as bullets ricocheted off the metal. “Dorian, how many?”Dorian’s voice came sharp through the earpiece. “At least eight. They were waiting for you.”I clenched my teeth. Of course, he knew we’d come.Leon checked his ammo. “We need to take them out before he reaches the cargo ship.”I exhaled, steadying my grip on my gun. “Then let’s end this.”Leon moved first, stepping out just long enough to fire three quick shots. A grunt of pain echoed through the night. One down.Dorian’s rifle cracked, taking out another.I kept close to the containers, listening—waiting. A figure rushed toward me. I ducked just as he swung a knife, feeling the blade slice the air above my head.Without hesitation, I drove my elbow into his ribs, twisting his wrist until the knife clatt
The weight of the file in my hands was suffocating. The words blurred together, but the truth was undeniable—my father hadn’t just been a scientist. He had been a test subject. And Elise’s father had orchestrated it all.Leon took the file from me carefully, his jaw tight as he read through the documents. “This wasn’t just research. They were experimenting on people.”Dorian exhaled sharply. “And your father was one of them.”I clenched my fists. “But why? What were they trying to do?”Leon flipped to the last page, scanning the details. His eyes darkened. “Something about genetic resilience. Accelerated healing. They were looking for ways to manipulate biological responses to trauma.”My stomach churned. “You mean… like making people stronger?”“Stronger, faster, immune to certain injuries.” Leon met my gaze, his voice heavy. “Margarette, they weren’t just studying human endurance. They were creating something.”A chill ran down my spine. “Creating what?”Dorian shifted uncomfortably
The room felt heavier now, as if the ghosts of the past had never truly left. My father’s study had once been a place of quiet authority, filled with the scent of polished wood and old books. Now, it was chaos—a graveyard of secrets waiting to be unearthed.Leon and Dorian moved swiftly, sifting through papers, searching for anything that might explain my father’s connection to Elise’s father. But my hands trembled as I flipped through the documents.My father’s handwriting stared back at me in sharp, deliberate strokes.Project Haven—Initiated 20 years agoI frowned. “Project Haven?”Leon peered over my shoulder. “That name mean anything to you?”I shook my head, but something about it felt... familiar. Like a memory I had brushed against in passing but never grasped fully.Dorian pulled a dust-covered filing box from beneath the desk. “We’ve got more.” He popped the latch and revealed stacks of old documents, some stamped with red ink.CONFIDENTIAL.I swallowed hard as I pulled out