Chapter 3 Hidden Secrets

The gala continued, a blur of forced smiles and tactical conversations. I learned more in two hours than I had in my entire previous life. I learned that Blythe’s father, a man I hadn't even met yet, was drowning in debt and that this merger was a desperate move to save the St. James name and company. I learned that Daniel and Blythe had been planning to bankrupt Mark from the inside out.

But most importantly, I learned that I wasn't the only one with a secret.

As the night wound down, I found myself in the darkened library of the estate, away from the thumping music. I needed a moment to breathe, to let the mask slip. My head was throbbing again, the "Blythe" memories fighting with my "Jane" soul.

I heard a muffled sound from behind a heavy velvet curtain—the sound of someone sobbing.

I pulled the curtain back and froze. It was Sarah. She was huddled in a chair, the "Visionary" award forgotten on the floor. She was clutching the locket so hard her knuckles were white.

"Sarah?" I whispered, my voice softer than I intended.

She looked up, her makeup smeared, her eyes wide with a raw, primal terror. "He is going to kill me," she whispered, not even realizing who she was talking to. "He’s going to kill me when he finds out the truth."

"Who? Mark?" I stepped forward, the hunter in me sensing a wound.

"The child," she choked, her voice a frantic rasp. "The boy... Leo, He’s ten now. Mark thinks... he thinks Leo is the miracle. But the IVF... the last round Jane did..."

She stopped, her eyes darting to mine, realization dawning on her that she had said too much.

"What about the last round, Sarah?" I demanded, grabbing her shoulders. "What did you do?"

Sarah began to shake, a violent, full-body tremor. "The clinic... they made a mistake, or I did. I wanted his child so badly, I was desperate, so I swapped the labels. Jane’s eggs... they were used for my procedure. Leo isn't my son, Blythe. He’s Jane’s."

The world tilted. "The boy I had seen in the photo, the one with Mark’s eyes was mine? My son? The child I thought had died with me was indeed alive, being raised by the woman who had betrayed me and stolen my husband.

"And Mark?" I asked, my voice trembling with a fury so hot it felt like ice. "Does he know?"

"He can never know," Sarah whispered, clutching my arm. "Because if he finds out Leo isn't my son but his, with Jane, he’ll realize the truth about the accident. He’ll realize I didn't just take his wife's place, but also the one who cut her brake lines."

The silence in the room was deafening. My breath hitched in my throat. I looked at the woman I once called a sister, the woman who had just confessed to my murder. But before I could speak, a shadow fell across the doorway.

"That’s a very interesting confession, Sarah," a voice drawled. We both turned. Daniel was leaning against the doorframe, a digital recorder in his hand, his eyes gleaming with a terrifying light. But he wasn't looking at Sarah, He was looking at me.

"But I think the most interesting part of the story would be why "Blythe" just had a heart rate spike of 140 beats per minute the moment you mentioned Jane's brake lines" Daniel said, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him with a click.

He walked toward me, his gaze piercing through my soul, stripping away the sequins and the porcelain skin. He reached out, his thumb tracing the line of my jaw.

"You aren't Blythe," he whispered, a dark, twisted smile spreading across his face. "I've been watching you all night. The way you walk, the way you tilt your head...and the fact that you know the passcode to my private safe, which I never told Blythe."

He leaned into my ear, his breath hot against my skin.

"Hello, Jane. I’ve been waiting ten years for you to come back. Now, shall we talk about how we are going to burn this whole house down together, or should I tell Mark his 'dead' wife is currently standing in his library?" He smirked.

My eyes widened as I looked into Daniel's green eyes and realized with a jolt of horror that he hadn't just known I was Jane. He had been the one waiting for me to wake up.

"How would you know? How sure are you that I am Jane? A woman that died ten years ago," I breathed. 

Daniel reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, crumpled note and gave it to me, yellow with age. I recognized the handwriting instantly, It was mine. A note I had written to myself the day of the crash, a frantic scrawl of suspicion I had forgotten in the trauma.

"If I don't make it, tell Daniel everything. He’s the only one who knows what they are capable of" it stated. But beneath my handwriting, there was a new line, written in Daniel’s bold, elegant script: "Phase Two begins tonight. Welcome back, Jane."

I looked from the note to Daniel, then to the sobbing Sarah on the floor. I was a mother to a son who didn't know me, a target for a husband who didn't recognize me, and a partner to a man who had been playing a ten-year long game of chess with my life as the prize.

"The merger is not a business deal, is it?" I asked, my voice trembling.

Daniel smirked, tucking the recorder away. "The merger is a funeral, Jane. And you're the guest of honor."

At that moment, the library door burst open. Mark stood there, his face contorted in a mix of rage and confusion. He looked at Sarah on the floor, at Daniel holding my arm, and then his eyes settled on me.

"Daniel, get away from her," Mark hissed, his hand reaching into his jacket. "That’s not Blythe. I just got the fingerprint scan back from the glass she held."

He stepped into the light, a silver pistol glinting in his hand. "I don't know who the hell you are or how you have her face, but you're going to tell me what you did with the real Blythe James before I put a bullet in you."

I looked at the gun, then at Daniel, and then at the locket around Sarah’s neck.

"Mark," I said, my voice dropping the "Blythe" affectation entirely, returning to the soft, haunting tone of the woman he had discarded.

"Don't you recognize your own wife?" I asked. 

The gun trembled in his hand. The silence was broken only by the distant sound of the gala's closing song.

"Jane?" he whispered, his face ghostly pale. "Not exactly," Daniel Interjected, his grip on my waist tightening. "She's something much more dangerous now, Mark. She's the majority shareholder." Daniel pulled a remote from his pocket and pressed a button. Across the room, a hidden monitor flickered to life, showing a live feed of the gala's main stage.