Chapter 2
I did not touch Lila immediately.
She was terrified of adults.
That mattered more than what I wanted.
Lucy slipped from the bodyguard’s arms before anyone stopped her.
She crossed the room slowly.
Lila watched.
Then Lucy sat beside her.
No words.
Just two identical girls staring at each other.
Finally Lucy tore her bread in half.
Held one piece out.
Lila took it with both hands.
She ate too fast.
I looked at Imogen.
My sister turned away.
“Since when?”
No answer.
I stepped closer.
“Since when has she been here?”
Colin answered instead.
“Not always.”
I looked at him.
“Where was she?”
Silence.
Then Imogen whispered:
“With us.”
My chest tightened.
“With you?”
She nodded.
For three years.
My dead daughter had lived with my sister.
“How?”
Imogen started crying.
That did nothing for me.
“Tell me.”
She claimed the night of the birth was chaos.
My wife, Elena, was hemorrhaging.
Doctors moving.
Staff shouting.
One twin healthy.
One struggling.
Imogen was there.
So was Colin.
A doctor told them Lila might not survive.
Then she stabilized.
Not died.
Stabilized.
Imogen made a choice.
Not one moment.
Several.
She told the staff I could not handle another crisis while Elena was dying.
She arranged for Lila to be moved quietly.
Then informed me the second baby had died.
I stared at her.
“You took my daughter because I was grieving?”
“No.”
Her voice cracked.
“Because you were dangerous then.”
There.
The excuse.
I had become brutal after Elena nearly died.
Imogen said I threatened everyone.
Broke furniture.
Refused to leave the room.
She told herself Lila needed calm.
Then Elena died two weeks later.
I became worse.
So Imogen kept the lie.
One month.
Then three.
Then a year.
At some point fear became habit.
At some point habit became ownership.
“Why is she locked in a room?”
Imogen had no answer.
Colin did.
“Because Lucy found her.”
There.
Not protection anymore.
Cover-up.
May you like
My daughter had discovered her own sister.
And Imogen punished both children for making the secret harder to contain.
