Vivian's heart drummed against her ribs as the taxi stopped in front of the DeWitt house.
The grand stone house stood over her, its windows like judging eyes. Ten years since she'd last walked through that door. Ten years since anyone inside had called her family. "You can do this," she whispered to herself, paying the driver with shaking hands.
The road to the front door felt miles long. Each step brought back memoriesrunning down this same path as a child, racing Isabella to the big oak tree, their laughter echoing across the grounds.
Now, quiet surrounded her like a fog. When she rang the doorbell, the same musical chime sounded. Some things never changed.
The door swung open. Mrs. Winters, the maid who had been with the family forever, stood there. Her face froze, then softened.
"Miss Vivian," she whispered, looking quickly over her shoulder before pulling Vivian into a short hug. "It's been too long." "Hello, Mrs. Winters," Vivian said, her throat tight. "I got an invitation."
"They're waiting in the blue room. Everyone's here." Mrs. Winters's eyes carried a warning.
"Brace yourself, dear." The house smelled the samelemon polish and old money. Vivian passed the familiar pictures on the walls, her feet remembering the way without thinking.
At the end of the hallway, voices floated from behind a door. Vivian paused, her hand on the knob. One big breath. Then she opened the door.
Five pairs of eyes turned to her at once. Her father, Alexander DeWitt, stood by the fireplace, tall and straight as ever. His silver hair caught the light, but his blue eyes were cold when they met hers.
"You're late," he said. No hello. No welcome back. Just criticism. "The traffic was bad," Vivian said, though she'd been sitting in her car outside for twenty minutes, gaining courage. "Vivian!" Isabella's words cut the tension as she rushed across the room.
Still beautiful, still graceful. Her golden hair fell in perfect waves, and her green eyes sparkled as she pulled Vivian into a hug. "I'm so happy you came!" The hug felt wrong. Too tight, too trained. Like hugging a dummy.
"Isabella," Vivian managed, the name feeling strange on her tongue. "You're alive." Isabella laughed, the sound like tinkling bells.
"Very much so! I have so much to tell you!" From the corner, Damien Holt watched them. His dark eyes met Vivian's over Isabella's shoulder. For a second, something flashed therepain? Regret? Then it was gone, replaced by a blank stare. "Miss DeWitt," he said politely, nodding to her. "Welcome home."
Home.
The word stung. This house had stopped being home the day Alexander had thrown her out. "Damien," she admitted, keeping her voice steady. She would not show fear. Not here. "Let's sit," Alexander commanded, pointing to the sofas.
"Margot will be joining us shortly to discuss the legal matters." Margot Vale. The family attorney. Vivian's stomach twisted. As they moved to sit, the door opened again. A little girl with dark hair peeked in.
She couldn't be more than nine years old, with big, curious eyes and Damien's straight nose. "Emily!" Isabella called. "Come meet my sister!" The child stepped into the room, shy but interested. "Hello," she said softly. "Aunt Vivian?" Aunt Vivian.
The words echoed in her mind. "Emily is my adopted daughter," Isabella explained, but something in her eyes flickered. A lie. Vivian looked from the child to Damien, who suddenly found the floor interesting.
The girl had his eyes, his chin. Her heart sank. "It's nice to meet you, Emily," Vivian said, trying to smile. The girl smiled back, and for a moment, Vivian saw Isabella in her smile too.
"Emily, go back to Miss Prim. The adults need to talk," Alexander ordered. The girl nodded and disappeared. Once the door closed, Alexander cleared his throat. "We have matters to discuss."
"Like how my sister is suddenly alive after ten years?" Vivian asked, her voice sharper than meant. Isabella's smile faded. "It's complicated, Viv."
"Don't call me that," Vivian snapped. Only the old Isabella, her real sister, had called her that. Alexander's eyes narrowed. "Watch your tone. Isabella has been through enough." "And I haven't?" Vivian challenged.
"You weren't the one who had to disappear," Isabella said, her words soft but her eyes hard. "I had to leave everything behind. My life, my future, my family."
"Because of me?" Vivian asked. "Is that what you're saying?" The room fell silent. Alexander shifted uncomfortably. Damien stared at his hands. "No one's blaming you," Isabella said finally, but her words rang hollow.
"I think that's exactly what's happening," Vivian replied. The door opened again, and Margot Vale walked in, perfect as always in her tailored suit, red lips curved in a controlled smile. "Vivian," she said, her voice too warm.
"How wonderful to see you." Something about Margot's gaze sent a chill down Vivian's spine. The woman had always watched her strangely, like she was looking for something in Vivian's face.
"Let's get to the point," Alexander said. "Isabella's return changes things. Legally, financially." "You mean the inheritance," Vivian said simply. "Among other things," Margot answered, opening her briefcase.
"There are documents that need reviewing, signatures required." "What documents?" Vivian asked. "Just formalities," Isabella said quickly. Too quickly. "I want to know what happened," Vivian urged, ignoring the papers.
"Ten years, Isabella. Everyone thought you were dead. I thought you were dead!" "I had no choice," Isabella whispered, her eyes suddenly wet with tears. But Vivian had seen Isabella cry on order as a child to get what she wanted. Were these tears real?
"Why now?" Vivian pushed. "Why come back now?" Isabella and Alexander exchanged looks. Damien shifted in his seat. "It was safe," Isabella said simply.
"And I missed everyone. I missed you." Lies. All lies. "And what about Emily?" Vivian asked, looking directly at Damien.
"When did you adopt her?" Isabella's smile froze. Damien's jaw tightened. "Three years ago," Isabella answered. "In Europe." Vivian nodded slowly.
"And she just happens to look exactly like Damien?" The room went deadly quiet. Alexander stood abruptly. "That's enough questions for today," he stated.
"Margot, the papers." As Margot distributed papers, Vivian noticed a small photo frame on the side table. A picture of her and Isabella as children, their arms around each other.
But something was off about it the frame was new, but the picture looked aged. As if it had been hidden away for years and only recently brought out for show. Just like Isabella.
"Sign here," Margot said, pointing to a line on a paper.
"This confirms you acknowledge Isabella's return and her reinstatement as a DeWitt heir." "And what does that mean for me?" Vivian asked.
"Nothing changes for you," Alexander said coldly. "You remain as you were." Cast out. Forgotten. Blamed. As Vivian scanned the document, her eyes caught a strange clause buried in the legal jargon:
"All parties agree to the confidentiality of events occurring on June 17th, 2014." The night Isabella went. "I'm not signing anything until I know the truth," Vivian said, putting down the pen. Isabella's smile disappeared completely. "Vivian, please. For the family." "What family?" Vivian shot back. "The one that threw me out? Or the one that's been lying to me for ten years?"
Something dark flashed in Isabella's eyesnot hurt, but anger. Real, burning anger. "You have no idea what you're talking about," she hissed, her sweet mask slipping.
"Then tell me," Vivian pushed. Before Isabella could reply, Damien stood up. "I think we should continue this another time. When feelings aren't so high." Alexander nodded. "Damien's right. We're adjourned for now." As everyone started to leave, Vivian felt a hand on her arm. Damien, his touch gentle but pressing.
"Be careful, Vivian," he whispered, his voice so low only she could hear. "Nothing is what it seems."
Before she could ask what he meant, he was gone, following Isabella out the door. Vivian stood alone in the room, looking at the unsigned papers.
The house felt colder than ever. On her way out, she passed Emily's room. The door was ajar, and inside, the little girl sat on her bed, drawing. Vivian paused.
"What are you drawing?" she asked softly. Emily looked up, shocked. "The lake house. Mom says we're going there soon."
"The lake house?" Vivian's blood ran cold. The place where Isabella had supposedly drowned. Emily nodded, holding up her drawing. It showed a lake, a house, and three people standing by the water. One figure was crossed out with angry black lines. "That's you," Emily said, pointing to the crossed-out figure.
"Mom says you can't come with us. She says you're dangerous." Vivian's world turned. As she stumbled back from the entry, she bumped into someone Margot Vale, watching her with those strange, knowing eyes. "Careful, Vivian," Margot said, her voice silk over steel.
"Some doors are better left closed." But Vivian knew one thing for certain as she walked out of the castle that had once been her home: every door in this house hid secrets that could destroy them all. And someone was lying about what really happened at the lake that night.