He tried to kill me.
The truth settled over her like ice. He hadn't spared her after the wedding. He had hunted her.
"Sarah? Sweetheart, you're awake."
Her grandmother's voice broke through the paralysis of her thoughts. The old woman walked in carrying a chipped porcelain mug, steam rising from a hot herbal brew. Her eyes were still red from the previous night's collapse.
Sarah looked up, her expression hardening to mask the vulnerability underneath. "Nana. The car that went over the cliff." Her voice was dry. "Did the news say anything about it?"
Her grandmother set the mug down and sat on the edge of the mattress, taking Sarah's scratched hands into her own. "The radio said a car went over the ridge during the storm. They think it smashed through the guardrail. Rescue teams are still searching." She hesitated, looking at the tattered wedding gown peeking out from under the blanket. "Sarah, what does a car accident have to do with you? Why were you out there? Why are you covered in blood?"
Sarah pulled her hands back slowly, her gaze drifting to the window.
If a woman who looked exactly like her had gone over that cliff... they would think it was Sarah. Her pulse quickened.
They believed she was dead.
The stranger in the white car had unknowingly become her shield. Time. She finally had it.
Who was that woman? And why did she have Sarah's face?
"I need to find out who she is," Sarah whispered to herself.
"Who, Sarah?" her grandmother asked, fear creeping into her voice. "What's going on? You're acting like you've seen a ghost."
"Nothing, Nana," Sarah lied smoothly, sliding her legs out of the bed. The ache in her muscles was still there, but adrenaline muted it. "I just need to clear my head. I'll be right back."
Ignoring her grandmother's protests, Sarah stood, wrapping a faded wool shawl around her shoulders to cover the ruined lace beneath it. She walked out to the small porch, the crisp morning air stinging her face.
She needed answers. If the world believed Sarah was dead, she would use that. She would find out who that woman was — and make sure Adrian paid for every drop of blood spilled on that mountain.
Thousands of miles away, another woman lay trapped in a different kind of prison.
Portable scanning equipment filled the master suite, wheeled in by two silent technicians under the family doctor's watchful eye. Elena lay still on the mattress, her eyes open now, fixed on the chandelier above her.
She didn't move. She didn't speak. She had learned quickly that in this house, every movement was scrutinized.
Luca stood near the foot of the bed, his shadow falling across her blankets. His eyes never left her face, tracking the twitch of her fingers, the rhythm of her breathing. He was studying her the way he studied a flaw in a contract — searching for the point where the design broke.
"The scans are complete, Mr. Luca," the doctor said, stepping over to the monitor.
Luca didn't look at the screen. "Go on."
"There's no bleeding. No swelling. No sign of a head injury. Physically, she's perfectly healthy."
Luca's jaw tightened. "So the accident didn't cause this."
"Correct," the doctor said. "Yesterday's episode can't be explained by the crash."
Luca walked slowly around the bed until he stood directly over her. He leaned down, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Then we're left with your second theory, Doctor. Psychological instability."
Elena kept her gaze fixed on the ceiling, refusing to meet his eyes. Her heart hammered against her ribs, the monitor's beep quickening, betraying her. She wanted to scream the truth at him — that she wasn't his wife, that she was Elena, that she'd been trapped in a nightmare she didn't understand.
But the memory of the locked door held her tongue. If she said she wasn't Sarah, they would use the doctor's own words to lock her away for good.
Luca noticed the accelerating beep. A cold smile touched the corner of his mouth.
"Look at me, Sarah."
Elena turned her head. His eyes held no warmth — only a cold, calculating curiosity.
"The doctor says your mind is fracturing." His hand rose to trace the small scar near her eyebrow. "But I think you know exactly what you're doing. Sarah has always been an actress. What kind of game are we playing now?"
Elena closed her eyes and turned her face away from his touch.
Silence was the only weapon she had left.