aned the cut on my temple with a steady hand, the physical sting a welcome distraction from the emotiona

t call. The next morning, his assistant calle

taying with Ms. Peterson for a few days. Her mother' s recovery w

aid, my voice

e heirloom jade bracelet from the Hayes family collection, as a toke

g it to another woman' s mother. The message was clear. I was a placeholder, and my time was up. The finality of it was bot

ake in the vast, empty bed, the silence of the mansion pressing do

n the radio. A late-night call-in show. The host' s voice was warm and s

of being silent, of carrying this weight alone. I dialed the

ome to 'Midnight Confessions.' You' re on the a

stranger' s, a strained whisper. "

hat' s a heavy secret to carry," the h

ruth, came pouring out of me. Not the story I told ev

ords tearing from my throat. "He looks exactly like the m

idn' t mention mine. I was just a na

e?" the host asked, his voice soft

it. A lie to myself. I thought if I had the copy, maybe I could forget the original. But I can

ore I even knew what love was. The one who had disappeared from my life yea

hat with us," the host s

into the void. It changed nothing, and yet, it changed everything.

ed into the darkne