The drive back is filled with icy silence.
Dylan stares at the road through the window, as if the London night will reveal the answers he refuses to give me. I sit beside him, straight-backed, my heart buzzing with questions.
I think back to that man in the gray suit. To his words.
> "It's not the first time a Kingsley has hidden a truth in a mansion."
>
And most of all... I think back to General Holt. The way he looked at me. As if he recognized someone else in me. As if my face already belonged to him in another memory.
I hesitate.
Then I speak.
"Dylan."
He turns his head towards me, slowly.
"General Holt... he said something strange."
He doesn't reply. I continue.
"He told me I looked like someone. And you cut him off before he could finish his sentence. Why?"
A silence.
Long. Icy.
Then finally, his voice:
"That general has a... complicated past. He's known many women, many stories. He's probably mistaken."
"Are you certain?"
He turns completely towards me. His eyes darken, almost menacing.
"Are you doubting what I say?"
I clench my fists on my lap.
"No. But I want to understand. You always refuse to talk about your past. About your family. About... you. I'm living with a stranger."
He stares at me for a long moment. Then looks away.
"And sometimes, that's for the best."
Not another word is exchanged until we arrive.
Back at the mansion, Dylan almost immediately disappears into his office. I'm left alone in the entrance, my dress clinging to my skin, like a costume that has become too heavy. I want to shed this facade, to flee... but my legs won't move.
I go up to my room and change.
I'm standing in front of the mirror, letting my hair down, when I see him.
Behind me.
His reflection.
Dylan.
Or rather... someone who looks like him.
Same silhouette. Same build. But... there's something different. The eyes, perhaps. Darker. Or that slight nervous twitch in his jaw.
I turn around abruptly.
There's no one there.
Just silence. And the cold. And that mirror... which seems to be lying to me.
I back away, my heart racing. I look again. Nothing.
> It's impossible, Ariana. You're tired. It's stress. Just your imagination...
>
But I know what I saw.
It's late. Very late. The house sleeps.
But I'm awake. Sitting in my bed, unable to close my eyes.
Then a sound.
Faint. Muffled.
A voice.
I strain my ears. It's coming from the west wing. The one Dylan formally forbade me to explore.
I get up slowly. Barefoot. I step into the corridor.
The light is off, but the moon illuminates the polished floorboards. I move forward quietly. I hold my breath. And I hear.
Two voices.
Words escaped in the darkness.
"...you weren't supposed to come out."
"...I only wanted to see her."
I stop dead.
The first voice... it's Dylan's.
The second... I don't recognize it. And yet... it sounds strangely like his. Too much.
I move closer. I dare another step. But the floorboard creaks. A slight crack.
Silence.
Then nothing. Just the wind in the walls.
I back away. Slowly. I return to my room without a sound.
I close the door. I sit on the bed. My hands are trembling.
There was someone else. Someone with the same voice.
And what that voice said...
> "I only wanted to see her."
>
Who was he talking about?
I feel that something is there, just beneath the surface.
A secret. A double. A truth ready to explode.
And deep inside me... a certainty begins to grow:
Dylan Kingsley is not alone.