The academy's courtyard was alive with the sound of laughter and chatter. Students clustered in groups, some rushing to their next class, others lounging beneath the shade of the jacaranda trees. For most of them, it was just another ordinary day. But for Arie Brown, the world had shifted. Nothing felt ordinary anymore.
She sat at a stone bench with her closest friend, Ruth, her books stacked at her feet. Ruth was bubbly and curious, the type who noticed everything. Normally, Arie enjoyed her company. But today, the weight of secrets pressed down on her chest, and she struggled to keep her smile in place.
"Arie, you've been weird all week," Ruth said suddenly, tilting her head. "You don't talk as much in class. You barely eat during break. Did something happen at home?"
Arie's hand tightened around her pen. "No. Nothing."
"Don't lie," Ruth pressed, her voice soft but insistent. "You've always told me everything. Is it… your mother again? Mrs. Brown?"
At the mention of Amara, Arie's mask cracked. Her eyes flickered, her breath hitched. Ruth's sharp gaze caught it immediately.
"She did do something," ruth whispered. "Arie, you can tell me. You know I won't say a word."
Arie hesitated. Lila's warning echoed in her head: Play her game. Stay safe. Don't let anyone suspect what we know.
But the photograph. The DNA results. Her father's notebook. All of it swirled inside her, too heavy to carry alone. And she was just eighteen—still a girl who wanted someone to lean on.
"She's not my mother," Arie blurted before she could stop herself.
Ruth blinked. "What?"
Arie lowered her voice, eyes darting nervously around the courtyard. "She's not. Mrs. Brown isn't our real mother. Lila found out… and we have proof."
Ruth 's mouth fell open. "Arie, are you serious?"
"Yes," Arie whispered, her hands trembling. "We found a picture. And Lila did a DNA test. Amara has been lying to us all these years."
Ruth sat back, shock painted across her face. "That's… that's huge. But Arie, you can't tell anyone else. If Mrs. Brown finds out you know, she'll—"
Arie snapped her notebook shut, panic washing over her. "I shouldn't have said anything. Please, Ruth, promise me you won't repeat this. Not to anyone."
"I promise," Ruth said quickly, reaching for her friend's hand. "But Arie… you need to be careful. Secrets like this can destroy people."
Arie nodded, her throat tight. Lila will be so angry if she finds out I slipped.
That afternoon, in the privacy of the Brown mansion, Amara sat in her study with Mr. Jackson standing at her side. He had just returned from the company with a report on Lila's suspicious movements. But before he could speak, Amara's phone buzzed.
A message lit the screen:
"Mrs. Brown, I thought you should know… Arie has been saying strange things at school. Something about you not being her real mother."
It came from a number she recognized—one of her carefully placed "watchers" among the parents' association. Amara's smile was slow, dangerous.
"Ah," she murmured, setting the phone down. "So the little bird has begun to sing."
Folarin frowned. "Do you want me to investigate further?"
"No," Amara said, her tone cold and deliberate. "Not yet. Let them think they are safe. Let the girls believe their secret is theirs alone. The more they talk, the more careless they become. And when the time is right…"
Her nails tapped lightly against the polished desk.
"…we'll silence them."
At school, Arie sat through her last class in a fog of regret. Ruth's promise had comforted her, but deep down, she knew words had a way of slipping beyond control. She packed her books slowly, her heart heavy with the realization: the lie she and Lila uncovered was no longer just theirs.
Somehow, she sensed, Amara would find out.
And when she did, their world would never be the same.
The moment Arie stepped into the Brown mansion, she knew she was in trouble. Lila was waiting for her at the bottom of the staircase, arms folded, eyes sharp in a way that made her look older than her twenty-one years.
Arie froze. "Lila…"
"Come with me." Lila's voice was low, controlled. She led her sister upstairs into her bedroom, closing the door firmly behind them.
Arie clutched her schoolbag tighter, heart racing. "Did I do something?"
Lila turned, her gaze heavy. "You talked, didn't you?"
Arie's stomach dropped. "I—"
"You told Ruth."
The words weren't shouted, but they struck like a whip. Arie's hands shook as she set her bag on the desk. "I didn't mean to! It just slipped out. I was upset, and she asked, and—and—"
Lila crossed the room, taking her by the shoulders. "Arie, listen to me. This isn't just some secret about a crush or failing a class. This is life or death. Amara cannot know what we've found. If she even suspects, she'll crush us before we can fight back."
Tears welled in Arie's eyes. "I'm sorry, Lila. I swear, I won't say anything again. Not to Ruth, not to anyone. Please don't be mad."
Lila softened, pulling her sister into a firm embrace. "I'm not mad. I'm scared. Scared for you." She stroked her hair, steadying both of them. "You're only eighteen. I can't expect you to carry this the way I do. But you must promise me, Arie—never breathe a word of this to anyone outside these walls again."
"I promise." Arie's voice was muffled against her shoulder. "Never again."
Lila nodded, satisfied but still uneasy. She couldn't erase what had already been said, but at least Arie understood the danger now.
Meanwhile, Mr. Jackson sat in his car parked across from the academy gates, tapping his steering wheel in frustration. He had followed Arie earlier, but she had slipped away in the press of students, her driver whisking her home before Jackson could catch the license plate.
And Lila—clever, watchful Lila—was proving even harder to pin down. She moved through the company offices unpredictably, slipping out through side entrances, speaking quietly with staff he couldn't approach. Every time Jackson thought he had her trail, she vanished.
When he returned to the mansion that evening, Amara was in her study, a glass of red wine in her hand.
"Well?" she asked without turning from the window.
Jackson cleared his throat. "I… lost track of them, ma'am. They are careful. Especially Miss Lila."
Amara's fingers tightened around her glass. "Careful?"
"Yes. Too careful. Almost as if she knows someone is watching her."
Amara turned then, her smile sharp and thin. "Then perhaps she does." She set the glass down with a soft click. "You disappoint me, Jackson. Do not let it happen again."
"Yes, ma'am," he murmured, bowing his head. But inside, unease stirred. Lila was not the naive girl Amara believed. She was calculating, and she was dangerous.
That night, in their shared room, Arie lay awake staring at the ceiling while Lila read their father's notebook under the glow of a lamp. The pages whispered with secrets, the ink carrying a dead man's voice.
"Lila?" Arie whispered.
"Hm?"
"I meant it. I'll never tell Ruth again. Not anyone. Our secret… it stays between us now."
Lila closed the notebook and looked at her sister, her expression softening. "Good. Because from now on, Arie, it's you and me against the world."
Arie reached out, and Lila took her hand. In that small, silent moment, the bond between them grew stronger—two sisters standing alone in the shadows of lies, preparing for the storm to come.
And somewhere in the house, Amara was already plotting her next move.