"You can't sleep either?"
I nearly jumped out of my skin. Daniel stood in the kitchen doorway, still wearing his tuxedo pants and white shirt, though his bow tie hung loose around his neck.
"What are you doing here?" I whispered, clutching my robe tighter. "It's three in the morning."
"Evans asked me to stay the night. Said we had things to discuss in the morning." He moved closer, his voice dropping even lower. "I was getting some water when I heard voices from his study."
"Voices?"
"He's arguing with someone. I think it's Nate."
I set down my tea mug, my hands suddenly unsteady. "What are they saying?"
"I couldn't make out much, but..." Daniel hesitated. "Vivian, I think you should hear this yourself."
"I'm not going to eavesdrop on a private conversation."
"Even if it's about you?"
The question stopped me cold. "What do you mean?"
"I heard your name. Multiple times."
Something twisted in my stomach. "Daniel, I can't. If Evans found out, "
"Evans is lying to you. We both know it."
"We don't know anything."
"Don't we?" He stepped closer, his eyes intense. "Your sister shows up alive after ten years, engaged to the man who's been housing you like some kind of pet. You don't find that suspicious?"
"She's not my sister anymore. She made that clear."
"She's something, though. And whatever she is, Evans knew about it before tonight."
I wanted to argue, to defend Evans, but the words wouldn't come. Too many things didn't add up. Too many pieces of the puzzle were missing.
"Where's his study from here?" I asked finally.
"Down the hall, past the library. But Vivian, "
"What?"
"Be careful what you hear. Some secrets are better left buried."
The hallway stretched before me like a throat, dark and silent except for the distant murmur of voices. I'd walked this path a thousand times in daylight, but now it felt foreign, dangerous.
Evans' study door was slightly ajar, a thin line of light cutting across the marble floor. I pressed myself against the wall and edged closer, my bare feet silent on the cold stone.
", should have told her years ago."
Nate's voice, tight with frustration.
"Told her what?" Evans sounded tired. "That everything she believes about her life is a lie?"
"She has a right to know."
"She has a right to be safe. There's a difference."
I held my breath, straining to hear every word.
"Safe from what? The truth?"
"Safe from them. From what they're capable of."
"And what about what you're capable of? What we've all been capable of?"
A long pause. I could hear the clink of glass against glass, Evans pouring another drink.
"I never wanted it to go this far," Evans said finally.
"But it has gone this far. And now Isabella's back, and she's not the same scared little girl they took. She's angry, Evans. She wants revenge."
"I know what she wants."
"Then you know she's not going to stop with just marrying you. She wants to destroy Vivian completely."
My knees nearly buckled. I gripped the wall for support, my fingernails digging into the wallpaper.
"Vivian was never supposed to be involved in this."
"But she is involved. She was involved the moment she walked through your door three years ago."
"She was a broken girl who needed help."
"She was bait."
The word hit me like a physical blow. I bit down on my knuckle to keep from making a sound.
"Don't," Evans warned.
"It's true and you know it. You took her in because you knew they'd eventually come for her. You used her as insurance."
"I protected her."
"You used her. Just like you're using Isabella now."
"Isabella is using me just as much as I'm using her. She knows exactly what she's doing."
"And what about the cover-up? How long do you think we can keep that buried?"
"As long as we need to."
"She wasn't supposed to come back, Evans. That was the whole point. Keep her hidden, keep her safe, keep her away from all of this."
"Plans change."
"Plans fail. And when they do, people get hurt."
"Vivian won't get hurt. I won't let that happen."
"You can't promise that. Not anymore. Not with Isabella in the picture."
I heard footsteps moving inside the room. I pressed myself flatter against the wall, my heart hammering so loud I was sure they could hear it.
"She can't know," Evans said. "No matter what happens, Vivian can't know the truth about that night."
"What if she remembers?"
"She won't. The trauma, the guilt, it's created a perfect block. She remembers what we need her to remember."
"And if that changes?"
"It won't."
"But if it does?"
Another long pause. When Evans spoke again, his voice was so quiet I had to strain to hear it.
"Then we'll handle it. The same way we handled everything else."
Footsteps approached the door. I ran.
I made it back to my room just as I heard the study door open fully. My heart was racing, my mind spinning with fragments of conversation that made no sense and perfect sense at the same time.
Bait. Cover-up. She wasn't supposed to come back.
I sat on my bed, pulling my knees to my chest. Everything I thought I knew was crumbling around me. Evans hadn't saved me, he'd used me. And somehow, some way, they'd done something to my memories.
A soft knock on my door made me freeze.
"Vivian? It's Daniel."
I considered pretending to be asleep, but I needed answers more than I needed safety.
"Come in."
He slipped inside, closing the door quietly behind him. In the moonlight streaming through my window, his face looked haggard.
"Did you hear?"
"Enough."
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be sorry. Just help me understand what's happening."
Daniel sat on the edge of my bed, his expression grave. "I've been investigating your family for three years, Vivian. Ever since you disappeared."
"Why?"
"Because I knew something was wrong. Your father's reaction to Bella's death, the way you just vanished, the inconsistencies in the police reports."
"What inconsistencies?"
"The timeline didn't match. The witness statements contradicted each other. And there were payments."
"What kind of payments?"
"Large sums of money transferred from accounts linked to your father. Payments to hospitals, to officials, to people who suddenly became very quiet about what they saw that day."
I felt sick. "You think Dad paid people to cover something up?"
"I think a lot of people got paid to cover something up. Including Evans."
"Evans wasn't even in our lives then."
"Wasn't he?"
Daniel reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a manila envelope. "I've been waiting for the right time to show you this. I think tonight qualifies."
He handed me the envelope. My hands shook as I opened it.
Inside was a photograph. A color photograph of a teenage girl with dark hair and familiar brown eyes, standing in front of what looked like a private school. She was wearing a uniform, navy blazer, white shirt, plaid skirt. She was smiling, but it wasn't a happy smile. It was the kind of smile you put on when someone tells you to.
It was Bella. Older than the nine-year-old who'd jumped from the diving board, but definitely Bella.
I flipped the photo over. There was a date stamp: six years ago.
Four years after she'd supposedly drowned.
"Where did you get this?" I whispered.
"A private investigator I hired. It took him two years to track down. The school was in Switzerland. Very exclusive, very private. The kind of place where rich families send their problems."
"She was alive."
"She was alive."
"For how long?"
"As far as I can tell? The whole time."
The room spun around me. I gripped the photograph so tight my knuckles turned white.
"That's not possible. I saw her in the pool. I saw the paramedics. I saw, "
"What did you see, Vivian? Really see?"
I closed my eyes, trying to force myself back to that day. But the memories felt wrong, like scenes from a movie I'd watched too many times.
"I don't know anymore."
"Look at the back of the photo again."
I flipped it over. In the bottom right corner, barely visible, was a small logo. A stylized 'N' surrounded by a circle.
"Newton Industries," Daniel said quietly. "Evans' company logo."
The photograph slipped from my numb fingers and fluttered to the floor.
"He's been funding her education. Her life. For years."
"But why would he, "
"I don't know. But I'm going to find out."
I stared at the photograph lying on my carpet, Bella's teenage face looking up at me with that forced smile. How many secrets was this house hiding? How many lies had I been living with?
"Daniel," I said slowly. "What if I didn't almost kill my sister?"
"What do you mean?"
"What if someone wanted me to think I did?"