Chapter 18: The Denial

I didn't sleep. I sat in the corner of the room, wrapped in the duvet, watching the sliver of light under the door.

Every hour, I heard footsteps. Sometimes light—Chloe. Sometimes heavy—Mark. They were taking turns. Guarding the prisoner.

My mind raced, connecting dots I had been too medicated to see before.

The rush to get married. Mark’s insistence that we move to this isolated house, far from my friends in the city. The way he had isolated me from my coworkers after I got pregnant, claiming it was for my health.

It wasn't love. It was a setup.

He needed a wife. He needed a baby. But why?

Money? My parents left me a small inheritance, but nothing worth this level of elaborate fraud.

The answer had to be in the "dead baby." Elena.

I thought about the rattle. *Elena & Mark 2016.*

If Chloe was Elena, and they were together back then...

I stood up, pacing the small space between the bed and the window.

Why the charade? Why pretend to be siblings?

Because siblings can live together without raising eyebrows. Because a devoted aunt is the perfect cover for a second mother.

The sun began to bleed through the heavy curtains. Thursday morning.

One day left.

I heard the lock disengage.

I scrambled back into bed, pulling the covers up to my chin.

Mark walked in. He looked terrible—eyes bloodshot, stubble darkening his jaw. He was holding a garment bag.

"Get up," he said. His voice was rough. "You have an appointment."

"What appointment?"

"Dr. Thorne wants to do a scan. To check for... organic causes of your psychosis."

"I'm not going," I said. "I'm not leaving this house with you."

"You don't have a choice." He threw the garment bag onto the bed. "Put this on. It's the dress you wore to our rehearsal dinner. Try to look presentable."

He walked to the dresser and started pulling out underwear. He tossed it at me.

"Chloe is waiting in the car. We're leaving in ten minutes."

He turned to leave.

"Mark," I said.

He paused.

"Does she know?" I asked. "About the baby you lost? The real Elena?"

He flinched. It was small, just a tightening of the muscles in his neck, but I saw it.

"There was no baby," he said, not turning around. "Get dressed."

He slammed the door.

I stared at the garment bag. The blue silk dress inside.

He was taking me out of the house. This was my chance.

But then I remembered the conversation from the night before. *The transfer.* *Friday.*

This wasn't an appointment. This was a dry run. Or maybe the start of the end.

I unzipped the bag. The dress smelled of cedar and old perfume.

I put it on. It hung loose on my frame; I had lost weight since the birth.

I walked to the mirror. The woman staring back was pale, gaunt, with dark circles under her eyes. She looked like a victim.

I needed her to look like a fighter.

I rummaged through my makeup bag, finding the tube of red lipstick I hadn't worn in months. I applied it, the color stark against my pale skin. I pinched my cheeks. I brushed my hair.

I wasn't going to look crazy. I was going to look credible.

I walked to the door and tried the handle. Unlocked.

I stepped into the hallway.

Mark was waiting at the bottom of the stairs. He looked up, and for a second, his expression softened. He looked like the man I married.

"Elara," he said.

Then Chloe walked out of the kitchen. She was wearing a suit, sharp and professional. She looked at me, then at Mark. She saw the softness in his face, and her eyes narrowed.

She walked up to him and placed a hand on his arm.

"We're late, honey," she said.

She called him *honey*. Not Mark. Not bro.

I gripped the banister.

"I'm ready," I said, descending the stairs.

I reached the bottom. I looked at Mark.

"You said there was no baby," I said, my voice steady. "You said Elena was a lie."

"She was," he said, his eyes sliding away from mine.

"Then explain the rattle," I said.

I saw Chloe's hand tighten on his arm. I saw the panic flash in her eyes.

And I saw Mark's face crumble.

"It wasn't a baby," he whispered.

He looked at Chloe, then back at me.

"Elena wasn't the baby," he said. "Elena was the mother."