Chapter 3 The Name That Shouldn't Exist

The house was unusually quiet that morning.

No arguments. No Charlotte's heels clicking on marble floors. No Raymond's morning news echoing through the halls. Just silence - thick and uneasy, as though the walls themselves were holding their breath.

Veronica sat at the edge of her bed, the ruby necklace still around her neck. It felt heavier today, like a noose rather than a gift.

Her phone buzzed.

Aiden: "Meet me in the east garden. Five minutes."

She didn't hesitate. Her feet carried her before her mind caught up. The east garden was a place no one ever went - overgrown, forgotten, hidden behind a collapsed section of the fence. Even Charlotte pretended it didn't exist. Maybe that's why Aiden chose it.

When she got there, he was already waiting.

Leaning against the decaying stone fountain, arms crossed, dressed in a black jacket and jeans. A cigarette dangled between his fingers, but he hadn't lit it.

"You came," he said.

"You called."

Aiden's gaze dropped to the pendant around her neck. "Still wearing it?"

She touched the ruby lightly. "It's beautiful."

"It's dangerous."

She froze. "What do you mean?"

He tossed the cigarette onto the grass. "I didn't give it to you. I wouldn't."

"I know," she whispered.

"But someone did."

Veronica narrowed her eyes. "Why does it bother you?"

"Because I know where it came from."

Her stomach twisted. "You do?"

He nodded slowly. "That necklace belonged to someone else. A woman. Her name was Elara."

The name hit Veronica like a slap. Something about it sounded familiar, but she couldn't place it.

"Elara who?" she asked, her voice thin.

Aiden hesitated. "She was my father's mistress. Years ago. Before he met your mother."

Veronica's blood turned to ice.

"What?"

Aiden looked at her - serious now, dangerous and unreadable.

"They were in love. Or at least that's what the rumors said. She disappeared one summer. Everyone assumed she ran off. But the day she vanished, that necklace was the last thing anyone saw her wearing."

Veronica stepped back, hand flying to her throat.

"She just... disappeared?"

"No note. No luggage. No evidence. Raymond never talked about it. No one did. But seeing that necklace on you... it's not coincidence, Veronica."

She swallowed hard. "So, what are you saying?"

"I'm saying someone doesn't want the past forgotten."

Back in her room, Veronica couldn't breathe.

The name Elara echoed in her mind like a curse. She typed it into the search bar on her old laptop, hoping for anything - a photo, an article, something.

Nothing.

No obituary. No record.

It was as if she never existed.

And yet... the ruby necklace lay heavy on her collarbone, proof that she had.

Veronica reached for the box it came in. She hadn't examined it closely before - just torn it open in shock. But now, under the light, she noticed something carved faintly beneath the velvet lining:

"E.L. - Blood remembers."

She shivered.

Blood remembers.

She didn't know what it meant. But something inside her did. Something cold and buried.

That night, Charlotte called a dinner.

Not a family dinner - no. She had invited people. Influential ones. Socialites, business partners, the mayor's wife. Veronica wasn't invited, but of course, she was expected to serve drinks, clear plates, and pretend she wasn't real.

She wore a simple black dress again. Not out of choice - Charlotte left it on her bed with a note:

"No jewelry. Do not embarrass me tonight."

But she wore the necklace anyway.

The moment Charlotte saw it, her expression cracked.

Just slightly.

But Veronica caught it.

A flicker of fear. Or maybe rage. Or both.

"Take it off," Charlotte hissed, cornering her in the hallway.

"No," Veronica said.

Charlotte's hand flew out, gripping her wrist.

"That necklace doesn't belong to you."

Veronica met her mother's eyes - for the first time without shrinking.

"Who was Elara?"

Charlotte froze.

"What did you say?" she whispered.

"I found the name. In the box. Elara. Blood remembers."

For a brief second, something unrecognizable flashed across Charlotte's face.

"You are playing a very dangerous game," she said, her voice sharp and panicked. "You don't know what you're digging into."

"Then tell me."

Charlotte shook her head. "That name died years ago. Bury it with her."

Veronica's throat went dry. "So she's dead?"

Charlotte didn't answer. She walked away instead, disappearing into the dining room like nothing had happened.

Later that night, Aiden slipped into her room again.

She was standing by the window, trembling, clutching the necklace.

"She knew her," Veronica said the moment the door shut. "Charlotte. She knew Elara. She was scared when I said her name."

Aiden's jaw tightened.

"There's more," he said.

She turned.

He pulled a folded sheet of paper from his pocket and handed it to her.

"I found this in my father's study. Hidden inside a photo album. It's... it's a letter."

Veronica opened it.

The handwriting was old. Slanted. Feminine. Emotional.

Raymond,

If you're reading this, then I'm gone. I had to leave. She knows. She found out everything, and she won't stop until I disappear completely. I should've listened to you. But I couldn't keep the secret anymore.

If anything happens to me, tell the girl. One day, she'll need the truth. Blood remembers.

- Elara

Veronica read it twice. Then again.

"She was talking about me," she whispered.

Aiden nodded. "I think so."

Her knees buckled and she dropped to the floor. "But that means..."

"She's not your mother."

Silence.

The air stopped moving.

Veronica's mouth opened, but nothing came out.

Aiden crouched beside her. "I don't know how it's possible. But I think Elara... might've been your real mother."

Veronica shook her head. "No. No, that can't be right. Charlotte-"

"Charlotte isn't capable of love, Veronica. You know it. You've always known it."

Tears slipped down her face, uninvited.

Everything she believed... everything she survived...

A lie?

She clutched her head. "Why would she raise me if I wasn't hers?"

"Maybe she didn't. Maybe she kept you for another reason."

Veronica's stomach churned. "Like what?"

Aiden's voice dropped to a whisper.

"Leverage."

That night, Veronica dreamed of fire.

She saw a woman with dark hair, soft eyes, and a ruby necklace. She was crying. Screaming. Trapped in a house of mirrors. And behind her - Charlotte, holding something sharp.

When she woke, her hands were shaking.

But the necklace still glowed red in the moonlight, and for the first time, she wasn't afraid of it.

She was afraid of what it would reveal.