Chapter 5 FOR ALL OF US

Glenira's pov

I stood frozen in the center of the room, my senses overwhelmed by the dissonance between what I saw and what I felt. This was supposed to be my bedroom, a place filled with personal history and comfort. Yet, the furniture, the decor-the very essence of the space-felt foreign, like I had stepped into someone else's life. The only thread connecting me to my past was my name. I had once been Glenira. But now, I was Michelle.

"Michelle"

I whispered the name to myself, trying to make it stick, to make it feel like it belonged to me. But the truth gnawed at me: I had no idea who Michelle was, how she lived, or how I was expected to be her. I had to wear this identity like a mask, playing a role I hadn't auditioned for, and the thought of it made my chest tighten.

A sharp knock on the door snapped me out of my spiraling thoughts.

"Michelle, darling, may I come in?" A gentle, familiar voice floated through the wooden barrier. Kathleen. She was supposed to be my mother, though I barely knew her.

"Yes, of course," I replied, my voice soft, laced with hesitation. It was strange hearing myself speak as if on autopilot, the words sounding both mine and not mine.

The door creaked open, and Kathleen stepped in, moving with an elegance that felt practiced. She made her way over to the bed, sitting down next to me with a tenderness that should have been comforting. Her hand found mine, the warmth of her touch unfamiliar but calming.

"I know this isn't easy for you," she began, her voice soothing, each word carefully measured. "Your dad and I, we just want you to get better, to be strong again-for all of us."

Her sentence trailed off awkwardly, leaving a gap that made my pulse quicken. *For all of us*, she had said, but something was missing. I swallowed hard, feeling a lump form in my throat.

"So... what?" I pressed, unable to stop myself. My nerves were raw, and every word she spoke seemed to scratch at them.

Kathleen hesitated, her eyes flickering with something she quickly tried to mask. "It's nothing, really. I just want you to heal, darling. So we can all be happy again."

Her voice was calm, but there was a tension beneath her words that unsettled me. Why were they so eager for me to recover quickly? Shouldn't they be more concerned about how I was feeling?

"Are you sure?" I asked, my suspicion creeping into my tone.

"Yes, absolutely." She forced a smile, but the discomfort in her eyes remained. She gave my hand one final squeeze before standing up, retreating from the room as though she couldn't get out fast enough.

As soon as she left, the silence of the room pressed in on me. I lay back on the bed, but sleep refused to come. Her words echoed in my mind like an unsolved riddle. What were they not telling me? What was so urgent about my recovery?

After what felt like hours of tossing and turning, I gave up and slipped out of bed. A walk downstairs would clear my head, or so I hoped. As I crept down the staircase, the sound of hushed voices reached my ears. I paused, my body tensing as I recognized Kathleen and Matthew-my supposed father-talking in the living room.

I hadn't intended to eavesdrop, but then I heard it. My name. No-Michelle's name.

"I really hope she's still in love with Alpha Magnus," Kathleen said, her voice thick with worry.

"She has to be," Matthew responded with quiet determination. "Do you know how much time, energy, and effort I've put into making this opportunity happen?"

Opportunity? The word sent a chill down my spine. What opportunity? And who was Alpha Magnus?

Kathleen sighed heavily. "I don't care about any of that. I'm just thankful my daughter is alive and well."

There was silence, followed by Matthew's yawn. "I'm heading to bed."

I backed away from the stairs, panic welling up inside me. *Alpha Magnus*? *Opportunity*? The conversation raised more questions than answers, and the cryptic tone in their voices only made me more anxious. My heart pounded, fear surging through me as I fled back to my room, desperate to piece it all together. But nothing made sense.

Exhaustion eventually pulled me under, but my sleep was anything but peaceful. I woke the next day feeling more disoriented than ever, remnants of fragmented dreams swirling in my mind.

After a quick shower, I rummaged through the wardrobe, Michelle's wardrobe. Despite the turmoil in my head, I couldn't help but admire her sense of style. I pulled on a pair of blue Tommy jeans, a white tank top, and a sleek black jacket. If I had to keep pretending, I might as well look the part.

As I made my way downstairs, I spotted Matthew on the phone, his voice low and serious. I didn't linger, heading toward the kitchen instead, where I heard a clatter. Kathleen was making breakfast, and something about her movements seemed rushed, anxious.

"Good morning," I greeted softly, eyes cast downward.

Kathleen turned, clearly startled. "Oh! Good morning, darling. How did you sleep?"

"Fine," I replied, though it was far from the truth. "And you?"

"Great," she said quickly, her smile not quite reaching her eyes.

"Can I help with breakfast?" I offered, more out of politeness than anything.

Kathleen hesitated. "No, darling, it's fine."

But I moved forward anyway, reaching out to take over stirring. "I insist."

She gave in, stepping aside as I took the spoon from her. I stirred in silence, but I could feel her eyes on me. When I glanced up, I noticed a tear slipping down her cheek before she hastily wiped it away.

"Are you okay?" I asked, concern creeping into my voice.

"Yes, yes, just something in my eye," she said, but her tone was unconvincing.

I studied her for a moment longer before deciding to press. "So, who is Alpha Magnus?"

Her entire demeanor shifted. "Sorry," I quickly changed the question, "I mean, how is Alpha Magnus doing?"

"He's fine," she replied tersely, clearly uncomfortable. "He even checked up on you at the hospital."

"Great," I muttered, but the tension in the room had become unbearable. Kathleen found a convenient excuse to leave, mumbling about setting the table.

Alone in the kitchen, I finished preparing breakfast, but the unease gnawed at me. Something was wrong, and I wasn't sure I wanted to know what it was.

I walked into the dining room, but it was empty. The same went for the living room. Where had they gone?

Cautiously, I approached their bedroom door, about to announce that breakfast was ready. But when I heard their voices inside, I stopped, pressing my ear against the wood, straining to hear their latest secret conversation.