The following morning, the Sinclair estate felt different.
Not quieter—heavier. Like the walls themselves had taken a breath and held it. The kind of silence that came after something happened. Or before something worse.
Eliana hadn't slept. Not after what she'd seen. Not after the truth Celeste had dropped like a dagger into her life.
Her father—a Sinclair? Her memories—manipulated? Her entire life—a rewritten script?
No. It couldn't be.
Except… she was beginning to remember.
A hallway.
A scream.
A woman with fire in her eyes dragging her through a back door.
A man shouting her name.
The sound of gunshots.
Eliana's hands shook as she tried to hold her coffee cup steady.
"You look pale," Adrien said from the doorway.
"I saw him again," she murmured. "My father. Last night. In my room."
Adrien didn't flinch. He sat across from her. "It's starting."
"What is?"
"The remembering. The house… it doesn't let things stay buried."
She stared at him. "Why didn't you tell me?"
His throat moved. "Would you have believed me?"
"I would've believed you," she said quietly. "Because despite everything, I trusted you."
Adrien looked away. "That might've been your first mistake."
Before she could answer, a loud bang echoed from upstairs.
Followed by a scream.
Eliana and Adrien bolted toward the sound.
It came from the west wing. A part of the house she'd never been allowed in. Celeste once told her it was under renovation.
But as they reached the hall, Eliana saw the door had already been torn off its hinges.
Inside the room: blood.
Streaked across the floor, the wall, and… a mirror.
And on the mirror, scrawled in red:
"SHE KNOWS."
Eliana backed away. Her stomach lurched.
A soft rustle made her freeze. She turned—slowly.
A girl. No older than seventeen. Pale. Blonde. Eyes wide with terror.
Eliana had never seen her before.
"Who are you?" Eliana whispered.
The girl blinked. Her voice cracked. "Don't let them take me back down."
Eliana's blood turned to ice. "Down where?"
But before the girl could answer, Celeste appeared at the doorway.
She looked… calm. Too calm.
"Eliana," she said smoothly. "You shouldn't be here."
"Who is this?" Eliana demanded, pointing to the trembling girl.
Celeste smiled. "One of the guests."
"She's bleeding!"
"A minor incident," Celeste replied. "We'll take care of it."
Eliana moved to block her. "She's terrified. She said someone took her down."
Celeste's expression hardened. "You don't understand what's at stake, dear. Not yet. But you will."
Two staff members appeared behind Celeste—bigger, dressed in black. Silent.
Eliana grabbed the girl's hand. "She's not going anywhere unless she tells me what happened."
The girl clung to Eliana. "They made me drink it. They said it would keep me from forgetting. But I remember everything now."
Eliana turned to Adrien, desperate. "Say something!"
But Adrien looked at the girl like he'd seen a ghost. "Her name's Clara," he said faintly. "She was—she was my cousin."
"Was?" Eliana asked.
"She disappeared five years ago."
Eliana's heart dropped.
"She was supposed to be dead."
—
They locked Clara in one of the guest rooms "for her safety."
Eliana paced the hallway, furious. "You can't just pretend this isn't happening."
Adrien leaned against the wall, running his hand down his face. "You don't get it. If we go too deep, they'll come for us next."
"They? Who is they?"
Adrien looked at her, something hollow in his eyes. "The ones who made the vow real. The ones who keep the memories sealed. The ones who decide who remembers and who vanishes."
Eliana felt her world cracking again.
"So what am I to them?" she asked.
He touched her face gently. "You were the experiment. The bride who chose love instead of blood. And now they want to reset you."
"I'm not going anywhere."
"They'll try to take it from you again."
"Then let them try," she snapped. "But if I remember it all—if I uncover everything—then they lose."
Adrien leaned closer. "What if remembering kills you?"
Eliana's gaze didn't falter. "Then I die knowing the truth."
—
That night, the full moon rose red.
Clara's voice echoed through the halls. A scream that was not just fear—but memory trying to claw its way out of her throat.
Eliana stood in her room, gripping the journal she found under her pillow.
It hadn't been there before.
The cover was stitched with her initials.
Inside were pages and pages of entries, all in her handwriting.
One dated four years ago.
Another six.
Another—ten.
"They told me love was the cure. But it was the curse. He remembers me in every life. That's why they keep us apart."
"The vows were never sacred. They were binding."
"And the price for breaking them is blood."
Eliana closed the book.
Outside, thunder cracked again.
And somewhere below the floorboards… something whispered her name.