Chapter 9 – Echoes of a Ghost
The night pressed heavy on the mansion. A thin veil of fog clung to the windows, and every sound seemed sharper than it should have been. Amara sat in the dim light of the study, the glow from Damian's laptop casting pale blue across her face.
She had found the folder by accident — a hidden directory buried under layers of encrypted files. The title read simply "L H."
Her finger hovered above the trackpad. Curiosity whispered, Just one click.
She opened it.
Photographs spilled onto the screen: Lydia smiling beside Damian at a charity gala, Lydia standing in front of the same mansion gates, Lydia's name printed across business documents Amara had never seen. One file caught her breath — a recent photo, timestamped only two months ago.
Lydia wasn't dead.
She was alive.
Behind her, the door creaked.
"Why are you in my study?" Damian's voice was quiet, too quiet.
Amara spun around. "You didn't tell me she was still alive."
His eyes darkened. "Because she isn't."
She turned the screen toward him. "Then what's this?"
He came closer, stopping only a breath away. His gaze flicked to the monitor, then to her face. A muscle worked in his jaw. "Where did you find that?"
"In your own files. You hid it."
"I told you not to dig."
"I was trying to help you," she said, voice shaking. "You said Ethan destroyed everything — but what if Lydia helped him again?"
The air between them pulsed with anger and fear. Damian slammed the laptop shut. "You don't understand the kind of danger you've walked into."
"Then make me understand," she pleaded.
He hesitated. His walls, his silence, all of it cracked. "Lydia disappeared after that night. I thought she was dead. But if she's alive … it means Ethan never let her go. He's using her."
Amara's heart twisted. "Using her how?"
Damian looked at her with something close to regret. "To get to me. To you."
---
Hours later, Amara couldn't sleep. Every shadow seemed alive, every creak in the floorboards a whisper from the past. She went downstairs for water — and froze at the sight of a light flickering in the front hall.
A woman stood there, half hidden by the darkness.
Her coat was soaked, her hair clinging to her face. When she lifted her head, Amara's breath caught.
"Who … who are you?" Amara asked.
The woman smiled faintly. "You must be Amara Cole."
Amara's blood ran cold. "How do you know my name?"
"I know everything about you." The woman stepped forward, her perfume faint but familiar, her eyes burning with old sorrow. "Because I was you, once."
Amara's hand trembled on the banister. "Lydia?"
The woman nodded slowly. "Tell Damian I'm back. And this time, he won't survive what's coming."
Before Amara could speak, Lydia turned and vanished into the night.
---
Damian found Amara in the foyer minutes later, shaking.
"What happened?" he demanded.
"She was here," Amara whispered. "Lydia. I saw her."
His expression turned to stone. "Then the war has already started."