Chapter 3

The harsh smell of antiseptic filled Alanna's nostrils before she even opened her eyes. The ceiling was a sterile white, the beeping of a machine a steady rhythm beside her. Hospital. The stress and malnutrition had finally caught up with her.

She felt weak, but her mind was sharp. Through the partially open door of her room, she could hear the hushed chatter of nurses at their station.

"That poor Mr. Stewart and Mr. Robertson," one nurse said. "They haven't left Miss Kent's side. She's so sweet, and they just adore her."

"I heard the other one, the sister who was missing, is in that room," another voice whispered. "She seems... difficult."

A third nurse corrected them. "Her name is Alanna Robertson. She's the real heiress. That other girl is just adopted."

The words offered a small, bitter comfort. Her identity wasn't completely erased yet.

She pushed herself up, her muscles protesting. She peered through the crack in the door. Across the hall, in a private luxury suite, she saw them. Cameron and Anderson were flanking Bailey's bed. Bailey was propped up against a mountain of pillows, looking pale and fragile.

"My head still hurts," Bailey whimpered, pouting at Cameron.

Cameron's expression was full of tender concern. He picked up a small cup from the bedside table. "Here, take your medicine. Be a good girl." He coaxed the pill into her mouth and held a glass of water for her, as if she were a precious child. Anderson gently fluffed her pillows. Their eyes, once filled with adoration for Alanna, were now solely focused on Bailey.

Just as a nurse was closing Bailey's door, Bailey's eyes met Alanna's across the hall. The mask of fragility dropped for a split second, replaced by a look of pure, triumphant scorn. Then the door clicked shut.

Tears burned Alanna's eyes. Why? Why had everything changed? Had their love been so shallow, so easily transferred to the next available woman who could play the part of the damsel in distress?

She clutched the locket around her neck. It was the last thing her mother had given her before she died, a simple silver oval. It was the only thing from her old life that her captors hadn't taken. Her only anchor. She buried her face in the thin hospital blanket and cried, silent, racking sobs that tore at her empty stomach.

During the week she spent recovering, Cameron and Anderson visited only once. They stood awkwardly at the foot of her bed for five minutes.

"We have to get back to the office," Anderson said, his tone brisk. "And Bailey needs us."

They left without another word.

Later, scrolling through her phone with a trembling hand, Alanna saw Bailey' s latest social media post. A photo of a lavishly decorated ballroom. The caption read: "So touched that Cameron and Anderson are throwing me such a beautiful farewell party before I leave for London! Going to miss my two favorite guys!"

The party. Of course.

The day she was discharged, Cameron was waiting for her at the hospital entrance. The silence between them in the car was heavy, a thick blanket of things unsaid. She remembered a time when any silence between them would have been filled with her playful chatter and his indulgent smiles. Now, she had nothing to say to him. No tears, no accusations. Just a vast, cold emptiness.

He seemed to be studying her, a strange look on his face. "We're holding a party tonight," he said, his voice soft but unyielding. "A joint party. To welcome you home, and to say goodbye to Bailey."

His eyes met hers in the rearview mirror. "And I'm going to announce our wedding date."

It wasn't a proposal. It was a decree. A gift he was bestowing upon her, a prize for her suffering.

Alanna lowered her gaze, hiding the mockery in her eyes. "No, thank you."

She didn't need his charity.

The party was held at a five-star hotel, the ballroom glittering with chandeliers and overflowing with the city' s elite. As she walked in on Cameron' s arm, a giant screen behind the stage played a slideshow. It was a montage of the last four years. Photos of Cameron and Anderson at charity events, on business trips, on holidays. And in every single photo, Bailey was there, smiling by their side. There was not a single picture of Alanna. It was a public declaration that life had gone on without her, that she had been replaced.

Alanna quickly became invisible. She stood in a corner, a ghost at her own welcome-home party. The center of attention was Bailey, radiant in another stunning gown, flanked by Cameron and Anderson.

The whispers of the guests followed her.

"Is that her? Alanna Robertson? She doesn't look as refined as Bailey."

"I know. Bailey has such a grace about her. She and Cameron make a much better couple."

"It's such a shame about the engagement. I wonder what really happened to her all those years. You hear stories..."

The words were like tiny, sharp stones thrown at her. She couldn't bear it. She turned and fled, heading for the quieter upper floors of the hotel.

As she reached the second-floor landing, she heard an angry, familiar voice.

"Idiots! How could you let her escape? I told you to watch her!"

It was Bailey. She was on the phone, her back to Alanna, her voice stripped of all its sweetness, now sharp and furious.

"My whole plan is ruined because of your incompetence! Now she' s back, filling Cameron' s and Anderson' s heads with nonsense."

Her voice softened slightly, becoming calculating. "It's fine. I have them wrapped around my finger. And the cops won't do anything. But you need to keep everyone at the village quiet. Very quiet."

Alanna froze, her hand flying to her mouth to stifle a gasp. The village. That' s what her captors called the compound.

"Don't worry," Bailey continued, her tone turning cold and cruel. "I'll find a way to send her back. That' s where she belongs."

Bailey hung up and turned, a satisfied smirk on her face. The smirk vanished when she saw Alanna standing there, her face ashen.

For a moment, they just stared at each other. Then, the mask of innocence Bailey wore so well finally shattered, revealing the ugly, twisted jealousy beneath.

"You," Bailey hissed, her eyes blazing with hatred. "Why did you have to come back? You had everything! The money, the family, the love! I had nothing! It should have been mine!"

The confirmation hit Alanna with the force of a physical blow. Her fingertips dug into her palms, the sharp pain grounding her. It was real. All of it. Bailey was the monster.

Alanna didn't waste a breath on words. She turned, her mind singular and focused. She had to get away. She had to call the police. She had to make them listen this time.

She would see Bailey in chains if it was the last thing she ever did.