The phone rang the second time.
Then,
“Miss Bennett.”
Not who is this?
Just my name.
Quiet.
Certain.
As though Adrian Vale had expected this call eventually and was only surprised by how long it took.
Rain whispered against the hospital windows behind me while I tightened my grip on the phone.
For a second, I almost lost my nerve.
Then I remembered Clara lying beneath fluorescent hospital lights, struggling to breathe.
“I need your help,” I said quietly.
Silence followed.
Not shocked silence.
Measured silence.
The kind that made it feel like Adrian was rearranging thoughts carefully before speaking.
“Well,” he said at last, “that took considerably longer than three days.”
Despite everything, irritation flickered briefly through me.
“You timed it?”
“I estimated.”
“It’s been three weeks.”
“Yes,” Adrian replied smoothly.
“Which suggests either remarkable caution or remarkable stubbornness.”
“I was trying not to make terrible decisions.”
“And how is that progressing for you so far?”
I looked out into the rain-dark parking lot.
Ambulance lights flashed red in the distance.
Not well.
“I just…” My voice caught slightly before I steadied it.
“I need help.”
This time, Adrian hesitated.
Actually hesitated.
The silence stretched long enough that I checked the screen briefly to make sure the call hadn’t ended.
Then finally,
“A car will pick you up tomorrow morning at ten.”
I frowned immediately.
“That’s it?”
“That is sufficient for now.”
“You’re not even going to tell me where I’m going?”
“No.”
My irritation deepened.
“You realise this sounds deeply concerning.”
“Yes.”
“And you still refuse to explain anything?”
“I prefer important conversations in person.”
Of course he did.
Before I could press further, Adrian spoke again.
“Get some sleep tonight, Miss Bennett.”
The strange softness in his voice caught me off guard.
“You sound exhausted.”
Then the line disconnected.
I stood there staring at my phone while rain continued falling around the hospital entrance.
The cold suddenly felt sharper somehow.
I barely slept.
By morning, exhaustion sat heavily behind my eyes while anxiety twisted slowly through my stomach.
Tessa noticed immediately.
“You look like you fought demons overnight.”
I stared into my coffee.
“Maybe I did.”
She narrowed her eyes.
“That sounded suspiciously poetic.”
“I’m just sleep deprived.”
“Mm.”
The apartment smelled faintly of cinnamon from the candles Tessa always burned in the mornings.
Sunlight spilt through the curtains in pale gold streaks while architecture sketches covered almost every available surface.
Normal.
Everything around me looked painfully normal.
Meanwhile, somewhere beneath my ribs, panic pulsed quietly.
Tessa sat beside me at the tiny kitchen counter.
“You’ve been weird for weeks.”
“Thank you,” I said, giving her a sarcastic look.
“I’m serious.”
I looked down at my mug.
She knows Adrian as the businessman, but not about what he wants, which I also don’t know myself.
Part of me wanted to tell her.
But something stopped me every single time.
Maybe fear.
Maybe instinct.
Maybe the unsettling certainty that once spoken aloud, this entire situation would become real in a way I wasn’t ready for.
My phone buzzed suddenly.
Unknown number.
One message.
Outside.
My pulse quickened immediately.
Tessa glanced toward the screen.
“You have secretive enemies now?”
“Probably spam.”
“Spam messages usually don’t sound like kidnappers.”
I stood quickly before she could ask more questions. Find the original chapter at g.com.
“I have to go.”
Tessa blinked.
“Wait, where are you going?”
I grabbed my coat.
“I’ll explain later.”
“That sentence has never comforted anyone in history.”
Despite myself, I smiled faintly.
Then I left.
The black car waited exactly where it shouldn’t have belonged.
Parked neatly outside Tessa’s ageing apartment building like luxury dropped accidentally into the wrong neighbourhood.
People walking past glanced at it openly.
I almost turned around.
Almost.
Instead, I approached slowly.
The back door opened before I reached it.
Of course it did.
I slid inside cautiously.
The interior smelled faintly of cedarwood and expensive cologne.
Dark leather seats wrapped around me while the city disappeared behind heavily tinted windows.
And Adrian Vale sat across from me, looking perfectly composed.
Naturally.
His dark coat fit sharply against broad shoulders while silver streaks near his temples caught softly beneath the morning light filtering through the glass.
He looked expensive in a way that made ordinary wealth seem embarrassing.
“Good morning,” he said calmly.
“This feels illegal.”
“It isn’t.”
“That answer continues failing to comfort me.”
A faint trace of amusement touched his expression briefly.
Then the car began moving.
Neither of us spoke immediately.
Outside, Windhoek blurred past in flashes of sunlight and traffic while silence thickened steadily inside the car.
I became painfully aware of everything.
The quiet hum of the engine.
The rainwater still clings faintly to the windows.
The fact that I had willingly entered a stranger’s vehicle because my life was collapsing.
Excellent choices all around.
Finally, Adrian spoke.
“How is your sister?”
My head turned sharply toward him.
“You know about Clara.”
“Yes.”
Something inside me tightened instantly.
“You investigated my family too?”
“I investigate everything important.”
Important.
The word settled strangely inside my chest.
I looked away toward the window.
“She’s stable,” I answered quietly.
“For now.”
Adrian nodded once.
Then silence returned.
Again.
God, this man weaponised silence professionally.
About twenty minutes later, the car slowed before an enormous building wrapped almost entirely in glass and polished stone.
A luxury hotel.
Of course.
I stared upward as we stepped out beneath the covered entrance.
People moved differently here.
Slower.
Cleaner.
More expensive.
Even the air smelled wealthy.
Inside, gold lighting reflected softly against marble floors while quiet piano music drifted somewhere in the background.
I suddenly became painfully aware of my shoes.
Adrian noticed.
“Relax.”
“I am relaxed.”
“No,” he said calmly.
“You’re preparing to flee.”
I glared at him.
“I’m starting to dislike how observant you are.”
“That tends to happen.”
He led me through the lobby toward a private lounge hidden deeper inside the hotel.
The room overlooked the city through massive windows streaked faintly with rain.
Dark furniture, soft lighting, expensive silence.
It barely looked real.
A server approached immediately.
Adrian ordered coffee without checking the menu.
Of course he did.
I couldn’t help but gaze at the wonderful view.
I never would have imagined having the opportunity to be in such a building in this lifetime.
I went ahead and sat carefully across from him once we were alone again.
“All right,” I said.
“Explain.”
Adrian studied me quietly for a moment.
Then he reached into his coat.
He placed it gently on the table between us.
I looked at him suspiciously for a moment before leaning closer towards the table, paying more attention to who might be in the photo.
Then everything in me stopped.
The woman staring back at me looked exactly like me.
Not similar.
Not vaguely familiar.
Exactly.
Same eyes.
Same mouth.
Same dark hair.
But refined somehow.
Older?
Elegant in a way that looked inherited rather than learned.
She stood beside a tall man in a black suit beneath chandelier lights, emerald jewellery glittering softly against pale skin.
For one dizzy second, it felt like looking into another version of myself.
A richer one.
A dead one.
My fingers tightened slowly around the edge of the photograph after picking it up.
“What is this?” I said with slightly shaky breath.
“Her name was Elara Valmere,” Adrian said quietly.
The name settled heavily into the silence.
“She died five years ago.”
I looked up sharply.
“This is insane.”
“No,” Adrian replied calmly.
“It’s unfortunate.”
I laughed once in disbelief.
“You expect me to believe this?”
“I expect you to recognise what you’re seeing.”
I pushed the photograph back toward him slightly.
“This has to be edited.”
“It isn’t.”
“No one just looks exactly like someone else.”
“It happens.”
“Not like this.”
Adrian remained infuriatingly calm.
Meanwhile, my heartbeat had become uneven beneath my ribs.
I looked back at the photograph despite myself.
Those eyes.
My eyes.
“What does this have to do with me?” I asked finally.
For the first time since entering the room, Adrian leaned back slightly in his chair.
And something about the movement felt deliberate.
Careful.
“There are people,” he said quietly, “who benefit greatly from grief.”
I frowned.
“What?”
“Mr Valmere’s daughter died.
Afterwards, certain individuals inside his family gained influence they did not previously possess.”
I stared at him.
“You’re talking like this is business.”
“For them,” Adrian replied, “it is.”
A cold feeling crept slowly beneath my skin.
“Who exactly is Cassian Valmere?”
Adrian held my gaze steadily.
“One of the most powerful men in this country.”
The room suddenly felt colder.
“I still don’t understand what you want from me.”
Silence.
Then finally,
“We would like you to become Elara Valmere.”
The words hit the table between us like shattered glass.
I stared at him.
Then laughed once softly because there was absolutely no way this conversation was real.
“You’re insane.”
“Possibly.”
“You want me to pretend to be someone’s dead daughter?”
“To the public, Elara’s body was never viewed after the accident.”
I stood abruptly.
“No.”
The word came instantly.
Firm.
Sharp.
Adrian didn’t move.
Didn’t react.
“Miss Bennett,” he said quietly, “sit down.”
“No, I think I’ll leave before this becomes the beginning of a documentary.”
“You need money.”
The words stopped me.
I hated that they did.
Adrian’s gaze remained steady.
“Your sister requires treatment,” he continued calmly.
“Your tuition situation is deteriorating, and your current income is insufficient for either problem.”
Humiliation burned hot beneath my skin.
“You don’t get to use my family against me.”
“I’m offering you a solution.”
I looked away sharply.
Because the worst part…
Was that a small, terrified part of me that wanted to hear it.