Elena's POV
I can't breathe in this house.
The walls feel like they're closing in. The portraits of dead Morgans stare down at me with judging eyes. Somewhere below, I hear Isabella's sharp laughter echoing through the halls.
I need air. I need space. I need to think.
I grab my jacket and slip out through the back door. Nobody sees me leave. They're all too busy with their own drama.
The rose garden appears through the darkness like a dream. Grandmother's roses bloom even now, in early autumn. Red, pink, white—they glow in the moonlight like tiny lanterns.
I sink onto the stone bench where Grandmother used to sit. Where she taught me that every rose has thorns but we plant them anyway because beauty is worth the pain.
I pull out her letter and read it again by the light of my phone.
You and Adrian are not what everyone thinks you are.
What does that mean? How can we not be cousins? Our family tree has been documented for generations. There are birth certificates. Legal records. Undeniable proof.
Unless the proof is wrong.
Unless someone lied.
My phone buzzes. The mysterious number again.
Thomas Morgan was adopted in 1940. He wasn't Henry's biological brother. Your grandmother just discovered this three months ago when she found old adoption papers hidden in Henry's files. She was shocked. Everything she believed about her forbidden love was based on a lie.
My hands shake. I text back quickly.
Who are you? How do you know all this?
Three dots appear. Then disappear. Then appear again.
Someone who loved Margaret. Someone who wants to protect what she died trying to reveal. Read the journals, Elena. Tonight. Start with 1965. You'll understand everything.
Before I can respond, footsteps crunch on the garden path.
I shove my phone into my pocket and look up.
Adrian stands at the entrance to the rose garden. Alone. No Isabella attached to his arm.
The moonlight catches his gray eyes. He looks tired. Troubled. Lost.
"Elena," he says softly. "I hoped I'd find you here."
"How did you know where I'd be?"
"Because this is where I come when I need to escape too." He moves closer but stops several feet away. Like he's afraid to get too near. "May I sit?"
I nod. He sits on the opposite end of the bench, leaving space between us. But even with that distance, I feel the electricity. The pull. The thing that makes no sense.
We sit in silence for a long moment. Just the sound of crickets and the fountain trickling in the background.
"I'm sorry," Adrian finally says. "About Isabella. About the way she treated you. She's... protective."
"She's territorial," I correct.
Adrian almost smiles. "That too."
More silence. I don't know what to say. My head is spinning with Grandmother's letter. With the impossible suggestion that we're not really cousins.
"Can I ask you something?" Adrian breaks the quiet. "Why did you really come back?"
"For the art studio. For Grandmother's inheritance."
"That's what you told everyone. But what's the real reason?"
I look at him. Really look at him. He's not just asking to make conversation. He genuinely wants to know.
"Because I needed proof," I admit. "Proof that someone in this family actually loved me. That I wasn't the mistake everyone said I was."
"You're not a mistake."
"My father thinks I am. Evelyn definitely thinks so. Sophia has hated me since birth."
"They're wrong." Adrian shifts slightly closer. "Elena, I was eight years old when you left. But I remember you so clearly. You were the only person who ever treated me like I mattered."
"Of course you mattered. You were a little kid—"
"I was the spare heir," Adrian interrupts. His voice is bitter. "My father already had his golden child path planned out. I was just insurance in case I was needed. But you..." He pauses. "You let me paint with you. You asked me questions about what I thought and felt. You made me believe that maybe there was more to life than following rules and meeting expectations."
My throat tightens. "I don't remember being that important to anyone."
"You were important to me. When you left, I cried for days. My parents said I was being dramatic. That you were just a cousin I barely knew." He looks at me with those intense gray eyes. "But you weren't just a cousin. You were hope. You were proof that someone could choose freedom and survive."
Tears prick my eyes. "And look where that freedom got me. Living in a tiny apartment. Working for barely enough money. Alone."
"Are you happy?" Adrian asks simply.
I think about my small life. My museum job. My friendship with James. My simple routines.
"Yes," I realize. "Most of the time, I am. Are you?"
Adrian laughs but it sounds hollow. "No. I'm trapped in a life I never chose. Engaged to a woman I don't love. Working in my father's firm designing boring buildings for boring rich people. Following every rule. Playing the perfect Morgan heir."
"Then break free. Like I did."
"It's not that simple—"
"It is that simple," I interrupt. "You just have to be brave enough to do it."
Adrian stares at me. Something shifts in his expression. "You make it sound so easy."
"It's not easy. It's terrifying. But it's better than living a lie."
"Is it?" Adrian leans forward. "You've been alone for seven years, Elena. No family. Struggling to survive. Wondering if anyone cares whether you're alive or dead. Was it worth it?"
The question hits hard because he's right. Freedom came with a price.
"Yes," I say firmly. "Because at least I'm free. At least I can look in the mirror and know I'm living my truth. Can you say the same?"
Adrian looks away. His jaw clenches.
We sit in painful silence.
Then he speaks so quietly I almost miss it. "Isabella threatened you tonight. I heard her."
My heart stops. "You heard that?"
"I came back to apologize to you. I heard her say she'd destroy you if I broke our engagement." He turns to face me. "Elena, I would never let her hurt you. I want you to know that."
"Why do you care?" The question bursts out before I can stop it. "We barely know each other. We haven't seen each other in seven years. Why do you care what happens to me?"
Adrian is quiet for a long moment. Then he does something that changes everything.
He closes the distance between us on the bench. Moves right next to me. So close I can feel the heat from his body.
"Because when you walked through that front door today," he says intensely, "something woke up inside me. Something I didn't know was sleeping. And now I can't stop thinking about you. Can't stop wondering what it would be like if things were different."
My breath catches. "Adrian—"
"I know it's wrong. I know we're cousins. I know I'm engaged. I know there are a thousand reasons why I shouldn't feel this way." His eyes search mine. "But I do feel it. And I think you feel it too."
I should deny it. I should move away. I should remind him about Isabella and family and all the impossible barriers between us.
But I can't lie. Not here. Not now.
"I do feel it," I whisper. "And it terrifies me."
"Why?"
"Because what if Grandmother is wrong? What if this pull between us is just loneliness or nostalgia or some kind of messed up family dynamic?" I shake my head. "What if we're feeling something we shouldn't feel and it destroys both of us?"
"What if we're feeling something real?" Adrian counters. "What if this connection means something?"
Before I can respond, my phone buzzes in my pocket.
Adrian pulls back slightly. "Sorry. I didn't mean to—"
"No, it's okay." I pull out my phone. Another text from the unknown number.
Tell him. Tell him what the letter said. Tell him about Thomas's adoption. He deserves to know the truth.
My heart races. Should I tell him? Should I reveal what Grandmother wrote about us not being what everyone thinks?
But what if I'm wrong? What if I misunderstood the letter?
"Everything okay?" Adrian asks.
I look at him. This man who makes my heart race. This man who's supposed to be forbidden. This man my grandmother brought me back to find.
"Adrian, I need to ask you something. And I need you to be completely honest."
"Okay."
"Do you know anything about your grandfather Thomas? About his childhood? About his family?"
Adrian looks confused. "Thomas? My great-uncle? He died when I was twelve. I barely remember him. Why?"
"What did your family tell you about him?"
"Just that he was my grandfather Henry's younger brother. That he lived abroad most of his life. That he never married." Adrian frowns. "Why are you asking about Thomas?"
I take a breath. This is it. The moment where I either tell him the truth or keep Grandmother's secret.
"My grandmother's letter mentioned him. And something about an adoption."
Adrian goes very still. "What adoption?"
"I don't know yet. I haven't read the journals. But Grandmother said..." I pause. "She said we're not what everyone thinks we are. You and me."
"What does that mean?"
"I think it means—"
"Adrian!" Isabella's voice cuts through the garden like a knife. "There you are! I've been looking everywhere!"
We spring apart like we've been electrocuted.
Isabella appears on the garden path, her eyes narrowed. She takes in the scene—Adrian and me sitting close on the bench, the intimacy of the moment.
"What are you two doing out here?" Her voice is sweet but dangerous.
"Just talking," Adrian says quickly.
"In the dark? Alone?" Isabella walks over and links her arm through Adrian's possessively. "Darling, people will get the wrong idea."
"There's nothing wrong happening—" I start.
"Of course not," Isabella interrupts with a fake smile. "I'm sure you were just having a friendly cousin chat. But it's late, and Adrian promised to help me with seating arrangements for our engagement party."
"I didn't promise—" Adrian begins.
"You did, darling. Remember? At dinner?" Isabella's grip on his arm tightens. "Your mother is waiting. We can't keep her waiting."
She starts pulling Adrian toward the house. He resists for a moment, looking back at me.
"Elena, we need to finish this conversation."
"Tomorrow," I say. "We'll talk tomorrow."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
Isabella tugs him harder. "Adrian, come on. This is important."
As they start to leave, Adrian breaks free for just a second. He moves back to me quickly.
And then he does something that stops my heart.
He leans close to my ear and whispers, "I'm glad you're here, Elena. Even if it's just for two weeks. Even if it's impossible. I'm glad you came back."
His breath is warm against my skin. For a moment, I think he might kiss me.
But Isabella's sharp voice calls again. "ADRIAN!"
He pulls away. Looks at me one more time with those gray eyes that seem to see straight into my soul.
Then he's gone. Walking away with his fiancée. Back to his trapped life. Back to the golden cage.
I sit alone in the rose garden, my whole body shaking.
He's glad I'm here. He feels the connection too. And Grandmother's letter suggested we're not actually cousins.
But none of it matters if Adrian won't choose freedom. If he won't be brave enough to break his engagement and face his family's anger.
I pull out my phone. One more text waits for me.
He's falling for you. Isabella sees it. She's going to escalate. Be very careful, Elena. Tomorrow, she'll make her move. She'll try to destroy you before Adrian gets brave enough to choose you over duty.
Read the journals tonight. All night if you have to. You need to understand the full truth before Isabella strikes.
Because once you know what's in those journals, you'll have ammunition to fight back. You'll have proof that changes everything.
The first journal is waiting in the studio. The door is unlocked. Grandmother made sure of it.
Go now. Before someone stops you.
I stand up on shaking legs. The studio. The journals. The truth.
Everything I need to understand is waiting for me in that room.
I take one last look at the rose garden. At the bench where Adrian and I almost...
What? Almost what? Almost kissed? Almost admitted we feel something impossible?
I shake my head and start walking toward the studio.
Whatever happens next, whatever truth is waiting in those journals, my life is about to change forever.
And somewhere in this house, Isabella is planning my destruction.
But maybe—just maybe—Grandmother left me the weapons I need to fight back.
Maybe the truth will set me free.
Or maybe it will destroy everything.
Either way, I'm about to find out.