Sera's POV
The rain soaks through my clothes in seconds.
I'm standing on the Thornton house steps, staring at that newspaper clipping on my phone screen. The family picture. The girl who looks exactly like me.
Ashford Empire Heirs Die in Tragic Car Accident.
My hands shake so badly I almost drop the phone.
A car drives past, splashing dirty water on my jeans. I don't even move. I'm too numb. Too broken. Too confused.
Think, Sera. Think.
I can't go to Maya's place—the Thorntons know where she lives. Can't go to a hotel—my credit cards are frozen and seventeen dollars won't get me a room anywhere good. Can't go back inside—the door is locked and they've made it clear I'm not family anymore.
But there is one place. One secret place nobody knows about.
I grab my bag and start walking.
The rain pounds harder. My shoes squish with every step. Water runs down my face—rain mixed with tears I can't stop anymore.
Six years. Six years of thinking I belonged somewhere. That I had a family who loved me. That Adrian and I would build a future together.
All lies.
Everything was lies.
It takes me forty minutes to walk across town. By the time I reach the old apartment building on Fifth Street, I'm shivering so hard my teeth chatter.
This room. My secret.
I found it two years ago when something felt wrong. When little things stopped making sense. When I'd catch Richard and Margaret having whispered talks that stopped the moment I walked in. When papers in Richard's office had my name but wrong dates, wrong details, wrong everything.
So I rented this place with cash from a job the Thorntons didn't know about—freelance writing under a fake name. It's tiny. Barely bigger than a closet. But it's mine. Really mine.
I unlock the door with fingers so cold I can barely feel them.
Inside, everything is exactly how I left it three months ago. The single couch on the floor. The card table I use as a desk. And most importantly—the locked box hidden under the loose floorboard.
I drop my bag and go straight for the floorboard. My hands are still shaking as I pry it up and pull out the metal box.
Deep breath. Here goes nothing.
Inside the box are all the parts of the puzzle I've been collecting for two years:
A birth certificate that says "Sera Ashford" with a birthday that's three months different from what the Thorntons told me.
Newspaper clippings about the Ashford family's car crash six years ago.
Photos I found in Richard's locked drawer—photos of me as a youth that I don't remember being taken.
Bank statements showing monthly payments from something called "Ashford Trust Fund" into Thornton Industries accounts.
And most damning: a fake adoption certificate with dates that don't match any shelter records I could find.
I've known something was wrong for so long. But I told myself I was being nervous. Ungrateful. Crazy.
Turns out I was right all along.
My phone buzzes. I jump so hard I knock over the box, papers spreading everywhere.
It's Adrian calling.
I look at his name on the screen. Three rings. Four. Five.
I answer.
"Sera, thank God—" His voice sounds desperate. Panicked. "Where are you? Your parents said they kicked you out. I've been driving around for an hour looking for you—"
"My parents?" I laugh, and it sounds crazy even to me. "They're not my parents, Adrian. Did you know that? Did you know the whole thing was a lie?"
Silence on the other end.
"What are you talking about?" he finally says.
"The Thorntons. My perfect foster family." I'm moving now, water dripping from my clothes onto the floor. "They're not who they say they are. I'm not who they say I am. Nothing about my life is real."
"Sera, you're not making sense. Are you okay? Where are you?"
"Why do you care?" The anger comes rushing back. "You're marrying Vanessa tomorrow, remember? Shouldn't you be home measuring for your dress or whatever?"
"I don't want to marry her," Adrian says quietly. "I never wanted to marry her."
"But you're doing it anyway." My voice breaks. "You chose her over me."
"Your parents said you'd be arrested if I didn't—"
"Stop calling them my parents!" I scream it. "They're lies! Kidnappers! Maybe even killers! And you believed them over me!"
"What?" Now Adrian sounds scared. "Sera, what are you talking about? Kidnapping? Murder?"
I open my mouth to explain, but the words won't come. How do I explain something I barely understand myself?
"I can't do this right now," I whisper. "I just... I can't."
"At least tell me you're somewhere safe—"
I hang up. Turn off my phone. Throw it across the room.
Then I sink down onto the cushion and let myself fall apart completely.
I cry until my throat hurts. Until my eyes are so swollen I can barely see. Until there's nothing left inside me except nothingness.
Eventually, I must fall asleep, because when I open my eyes, it's dark outside and my phone says 1:47 AM.
I'm still in my wet clothes. Still freezing. Still alone.
I drag myself up and change into dry clothes from my bag. Then I spread all the papers from the box across the floor, trying to make sense of everything.
The Ashford family. Were they really my parents? The dates match—I would have been twenty when they died. The same age I was when the Thorntons "adopted" me from the "orphanage."
But if the Thorntons took me, why? For money? Control? Something worse?
I'm staring at a picture of the Ashford parents when someone knocks on my door.
My whole body freezes.
Nobody knows about this flat. Nobody.
Another knock. Louder this time.
I grab my phone, ready to call 911. It's almost 2 AM. Nothing good happens at 2 AM. "Sera Ashford." A man's voice comes through the door. Deep. Calm. Unfamiliar. "I know you're in there. I've been watching this building since you arrived three hours ago."
My heart stops.
"My name is Damien Cross," the voice continues. "I'm your half-brother. And if you don't open this door in the next sixty seconds, the men Richard Thornton sent to find you will be here in roughly three minutes."
Half-brother? Men coming to find me?
"I have proof of everything," the voice says. "Photos of your real parents. Documents about the crime. Evidence that will put the Thorntons in jail for the rest of their lives." A pause. "But mostly, I have a way to keep you alive through the night. Your choice, little sister. Trust me, or trust that the Thorntons will let you live long enough to expose them."
My hand hovers over the doorknob.
"Fifty seconds," the voice says.
Through the peephole, I see a tall man in an expensive suit. He's holding a folder. And behind him, in the hallway, I spot something that makes my blood run cold.
A shot. He's holding up a picture so I can see it through the peephole.
It's me as a baby, held by a woman who looks like an older version of my face. And next to her is a guy holding a small boy.
The boy has the same dark eyes as the man standing at my door right now.
"Thirty seconds," Damien Cross says. "After that, I leave and you're on your own. The Thorntons know where you are, Sera. They've known since the moment you walked through that door. I'm the only reason they haven't grabbed you already."
Down the hallway, I hear the elevator ding.
Footsteps. Multiple footsteps. Getting closer.
"Ten seconds," Damien says. "Choose now."
My hand turns the lock.