Chapter 3 The House of Lies

The Blackwood estate was not a house. It was a monument to everything I had never had.

The car pulled through iron gates that opened automatically, gliding along a driveway lined with trees that had been trimmed perfectly. The mansion rose before us, all sharp angles and gleaming windows. Marble columns. A fountain that sparkled under the moonlight. It looked like something from a magazine. Something from a dream.

It felt like a nightmare.

Richard opened my door before the driver could. He offered me his hand, but I ignored it and stepped out on my own. The air smelled like roses and fresh-cut grass. A far cry from the dying garden outside our cottage. Our cottage. I corrected myself. Elara's cottage. I did not have a home anymore.

Eleanor walked ahead of us, her heels clicking against the marble steps. She did not look back to see if I was following. She knew I had no choice.

The front doors opened before she touched them. A woman in a black uniform stood in the doorway. Her hair was pulled back so tightly it looked painful. Her face revealed nothing.

"Mrs. Blackwood," the woman said. "Welcome home."

"Mrs. Harlow," Eleanor replied. "This is Seraphina. She will be staying with us. Show her to her room."

Mrs. Harlow's eyes flickered to me. Just for a moment. Then she nodded and gestured for me to follow.I did not move. "Where's my grandmother? I want to see the paperwork for her treatment."

Eleanor paused. She turned to face me, her expression patient. "It's late, darling. The doctors have already been contacted. Elara is being transferred to a private facility as we speak. You'll be able to visit her once we've settled you in."

"I want proof."

"You'll get it. Tomorrow."

I wanted to argue. I wanted to demand answers right now. But I was exhausted. My bones ached. My head throbbed. And Elara's warning echoed in my mind like a broken record. They're not your family. They're your executioners. I needed to be smart. I needed to watch. To listen. To learn.

So I followed Mrs. Harlow into the mansion.The inside was worse than the outside. Not because it was ugly. Because it was beautiful. The kind of beautiful that felt like a slap in the face. Marble floors so polished I could see my reflection in them. Chandeliers that probably cost more than the cottage. Paintings on the walls that looked like they belonged in museums. Everything was perfect. Everything was cold.

Mrs. Harlow led me up a sweeping staircase. I counted the cameras as I went. One in the hallway. One at the top of the stairs. One near a door that looked like it led to a study. They were small, barely visible, but I had spent years working in places where I was watched. I knew what to look for.

"Your room is this way," Mrs. Harlow said. She stopped in front of a door and pushed it open.

The room was large. Bigger than the entire cottage. A bed with silk sheets. A window that looked out over the ocean. A bathroom with a tub I could swim in. A walk-in closet. But there were no photographs. No personal touches. No warmth. It looked like a hotel room. A place where no one had ever lived.

"This is where Vivienne stays when she visits," Mrs. Harlow said. "You'll be using it for now."

"Where does Vivienne live?"

"She has her own apartment in the city. But she'll be coming home tomorrow to meet you." The way she said it made my skin crawl. Meet you. Like I was an animal at the zoo.

"Thank you," I said, because I did not know what else to say. Mrs. Harlow nodded and left. The door closed behind her with a soft click. I stood in the middle of the room and listened. The house was quiet. Too quiet. But beneath the quiet, I could hear something. A faint hum. The cameras. They were always watching.

I walked to the window and looked out. The ocean stretched into the darkness. Waves crashed against the shore. It should have been beautiful. It should have been peaceful. But all I could think about was Elara. Was she in the hospital? Was she scared? Was she alone?

I pulled out my phone. No signal. I tried again,Nothing. I sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the wall. The silk sheets felt wrong against my skin. Everything felt wrong. I was a stranger in a strange house, wearing clothes I had not chosen, sleeping in a bed that belonged to someone else.

I did not sleep.

The next morning, Mrs. Harlow brought me breakfast on a silver tray. Eggs. Toast. Fruit I could not name. I ate because I knew I needed to keep my strength. Then I showered and dressed in the clothes that had been left in the closet. They fit perfectly. Which meant someone had been expecting me. Which meant Eleanor had been planning this for a long time.

At noon, I heard the front door open. Voices echoed through the house. One of them was Eleanor's. The other was lighter. Younger. Sharper.

I walked to the top of the staircase and looked down. She was standing in the foyer, draped in silk and confidence. Her hair was the same shade as mine. Her face was the same shape. Her eyes were the same color. But everything else was different. She held herself like a queen. She looked at the world like it owed her something.

She looked up and saw me.For a long moment, we just stared at each other. The mirror image that was not a mirror at all.

"So you're the spare," she said. Her voice was light. Almost pleasant. But her eyes were cold.

I did not respond.She walked up the stairs, each step deliberate. She stopped a few inches from me. Up close, I could see the differences. The perfect skin. The designer perfume. The smile that did not reach her eyes.

"Mother said you'd be grateful," she continued. "You should be. You're nothing but a stray dog we're letting into the house."

I clenched my fists at my sides. The words stung. But I had been called worse. I had been called nothing my whole life. I would not let her see that she had drawn blood.

"What am I a replacement for?" I asked. My voice was steady.

Vivienne's smile flickered. Just for a moment. Then it was back, brighter than before.

"You don't know?" She laughed. It was a  cruel sound. "Oh, this is going to be fun." She turned and walked down the stairs, leaving me standing there with my heart pounding and my hands shaking.

Dinner that night was a performance.The dining room was enormous. A table that could seat twenty, but only four of us sat at it. Eleanor at the head. Richard to her right. Vivienne across from me. Me. The stray dog.

The food was exquisite. I could not taste any of it. Eleanor did most of the talking. She talked about the upcoming social season. About the charities she was involved with. About how important it was to maintain appearances. And then she turned to me.

"We have a lot of work to do," she said. "You have Vivienne's face, but you don't have her presence. Her style. Her way of speaking. We'll need to fix that."

I set down my fork. "Fix what, exactly?"

"Everything," Eleanor said. "The way you walk. The way you talk. The way you hold yourself. You need to become Vivienne. Or at least, a version of her that the Valtorres will accept."

The name again. The Valtorres. The same name Elara had whispered in the hospital. The same name that had made my blood run cold.

"What do the Valtorres have to do with me?" I asked. Eleanor smiled. It was the same cold smile she had worn in the hospital. "Everything, darling. They have everything to do with you."

She did not explain. She just went back to her dinner, cutting her steak into perfect pieces, like she had not just dropped a bomb in the middle of the table.Vivienne watched me over the rim of her wine glass. Her eyes glittered with something I could not name. Amusement. Cruelty. Or maybe, just maybe, a flicker of fear.

After dinner, I excused myself and went to my room. I closed the door and leaned against it, my heart racing. I was not being welcomed home. I was being trained. Trained to become someone else. Trained to take Vivienne's place.

But why? What were the Valtorres? What did they want? And why was Vivienne so afraid of them?

I did not have answers. But I was going to find them. I waited until the house was quiet. Then I slipped out of my room and crept down the hallway. The cameras were still humming. I kept my head down and moved quickly. I did not know where I was going. I just knew I needed to hear something,Anything.I found myself outside a door that was slightly ajar. Eleanor's voice drifted through the crack. She was on the phone.

"She's here," Eleanor said. "She looks exactly like Vivienne. The Valtorres will never know the difference."

I froze. My blood turned to ice.The Valtorres. Again. Who were they? What did they want with me?

Eleanor laughed. It was a cold, satisfied sound.

"By the time they realize the truth, it will be too late. The contract will be fulfilled. The alliance will be secured. And Seraphina will belong to them. Body and soul."

The words echoed in my skull. Belong to them. Body and soul.I backed away from the door, my hands trembling. I needed to get out of there. I needed to think. I needed to find a way to escape.

But as I turned, I saw her.Vivienne was standing at the end of the hallway, watching me. Her arms were crossed. Her expression was unreadable.

"Listening to secrets?" she asked softly. "That's dangerous in this house."

I did not answer,i could not. My voice had abandoned me.Vivienne walked toward me, her heels clicking against the marble floor. She stopped inches from my face. Her breath was warm against my skin.

"You want to know about the Valtorres?" she whispered. "I'll tell you one thing. They're not men. They're monsters. And if you're not careful, they'll destroy you."

She smiled. It was the first real smile I had seen from her. It was not kind. It was not cruel. It was something else. Something almost like pity.

"Welcome to the family, sister," she said. Then she turned and walked away, leaving me alone in the dark hallway with my heart pounding and my world crumbling around me.The Valtorres were coming. And I was not ready