The knock came again.
Harder this time.
"Emma Carter," the voice repeated, calm but firm. "Open the door."
I looked at Lydia. Her hands shook as she backed away.
"Don't," she whispered. "Please, don't open it."
But something inside me said otherwise.
If I ran now, I'd keep running forever.
I took a deep breath and stepped forward.
The door creaked as I pulled it open, and there he was.
A tall man stood outside in a dark coat.
Sharp eyes. Cold presence.
And on his finger a gold ring with a black stone.
The same ring from the locket's photo.
"Who are you?" I asked, my voice tight.
He didn't answer right away. His gaze moved over me, studying every detail.
Then he said softly, "You look just like her."
My heart skipped. "Like who?"
"Emma Blackwood."
I froze. "You knew her?"
He smiled faintly. "Let's just say… I knew everything about her."
I stepped back a little. "What do you want from me?"
He didn't move closer, but his eyes darkened. "You've been asking questions. That's dangerous."
"Dangerous for who?" I shot back.
"For everyone still pretending the past never happened."/
Something in his tone made my skin crawl.
He reached into his coat slowly, and I tensed—
But instead of a weapon, he pulled out a photo.
He held it out. "You should see this."
I hesitated, then took it.
The photo showed the same reflection from the locket, clearly this time.
It wasn't Adrian.
The face staring back at me was younger.
Cruel. Smirking.
"Who is he?" I asked quietly.
The man's eyes met mine. "Your sister's partner. Before she met Adrian."
My breath caught. "Clara?"
He nodded. "She wasn't just your rival, Emma. She was part of everything that happened."
Lydia gasped behind me. "I told you," she whispered. "Clara was never innocent."
My mind spun. The pieces started to fit Clara's warning, her strange words, the way she'd spoken about the "deal."
"What are you trying to tell me?" I demanded.
The man's expression softened for the first time. "That you were never supposed to die. You were supposed to disappear quietly. But someone changed the plan."
"Who?"
He looked away. "Find out who signed the insurance papers after your death. That's where your answer begins."
He turned to leave, but I grabbed his arm.
"Wait! Who are you?"
He glanced back. "You can call me Daniel."
"Why are you helping me?"
He hesitated. "Because I owe you a life."
Then he walked into the mist and was gone.
I stood there for a long time, clutching the photo, feeling my heart pound against my ribs.
Lydia came closer. "Do you believe him?"
I nodded slowly. "I don't know yet. But I'm going to find out."
Back home, I couldn't stop replaying his words.
"Find out who signed the insurance papers."
It was a clue. A real one.
I opened my laptop and searched for the records of my death.
It didn't take long to find them. Adrian's company had handled everything.
But when I scrolled down to the signature, my blood ran cold.
It wasn't Adrian's.
It was signed in Clara's handwriting.
I leaned back in my chair, heart racing.
So Clara had collected my life insurance after my death.
And the money had gone into a private account connected to someone named D. Hale.
Daniel.
My head spun.
Were they working together, or had she betrayed him, too?
I didn't know what to believe anymore.
But one thing was clear: my death had never been an accident.
And this time, I wasn't going to be their victim.
I looked at the mirror across the room. My reflection stared back calm, cold, and determined.
"You wanted me gone," I whispered. "But I'm still here."
Then I picked up the locket and closed it tightly in my hand.
"This time," I said, "I'll finish what I started."