Diana clutched the cracked photograph frame, tracing her fingers over the faces of people she didn't remember, her mother, father, and a baby who shared her green eyes. She'd stolen the picture from the foster home files years ago, a desperate attempt to connect to a past that had long been denied to her. She held it close to her chest and let the weight of loneliness sink in, knowing that she had once been part of something only to be discarded.
She sat on the lumpy mattress in the attic she called home, drawing her knees to her chest as the cool October air seeped through the thin walls, the rain pounding on the roof and an unnatural lullaby making the darkness of the room feel oppressive.
The home was quiet now, too quiet. The other kids were asleep, and Mrs. Weller, the foster mother who ran this place like a prison camp, was in her room downstairs. That silence should have been a relief, but it only reminded Diana of what she lacked, family, love, safety. Belonging. Things she had spent years chasing like shadows, slipping through her fingers every time she thought she was close.
Seventeen years of being unwanted. Seventeen years of shifting from one miserable foster home to another. Every goodbye, every rejection, had carved a little deeper into her, until all that was left was a girl no one fought for, a girl no one needed.
Tonight was just another reminder.
Her birthday had come and gone without fanfare, no presents, no cake, just Mrs. Weller telling her to clean the bathroom before she could eat dinner. No one remembered, or cared, that she was now eighteen. An adult, legally free to leave, but with nowhere to go.
The tears stung her eyes before she could stop them. She squeezed them shut and buried her face in her arms. No more tears, Diana. You've survived worse. She repeated the mantra until the ache dulled. But the truth was, she was running on empty. Survival was exhausting.
The sound of the front door slamming downstairs jolted her from her thoughts. Diana's pulse quickened. No one was supposed to come here this late.
Voices followed, sharp, unfamiliar, and filled with urgency. Footsteps thudded heavily up the stairs. Diana sat up, every muscle tense. Her heart hammered against her ribcage. What now? Had the social workers finally come to dump her somewhere else?
The attic door swung open, and two men in expensive black suits, water dripping from their coats, emerged.
One was stocky, with a thick neck and a frown that made Diana's skin crawl, the other had narrow, piercing eyes and looked down on her as if she were in the way.
"Diana Reid?" the lean man asked.
She nodded slowly, instinctively curling into herself. "Who are you?"
"Pack your things. Now."
Diana blinked. "What?"
The man's voice left no room for questions. "You've been claimed. You're coming with us."
---
Thirty minutes later, Diana sat in the backseat of a sleek black car, watching the rain blur the city streets. Her heart was still pounding, adrenaline burning through her veins.
She had no idea what was happening. One moment, she'd been a forgotten girl with no future. Now, these men were whisking her away, refusing to explain anything beyond, "You're being taken to your family."
Family.
The word clung to her like a lifeline. Could it be true? After all these years, had someone finally come for her? The idea was too outrageous to believe, yet here she was, sitting in a car far too luxurious for someone like her.
The men said nothing, offering no comfort or clarification. The silence was heavy, filled with questions Diana was too afraid to ask.
Her breath caught in her throat as the car finally slowed down and turned into a long, winding driveway. They approached a "sprawling" estate, with extensive gardens, towering iron gates, and a mansion that seemed straight out of a Gothic novel. The windows sparkled with warm light, but there was an ominous chill in the air, as if the place held more secrets than its walls.
The car stopped, and the men escorted her to the front door. It swung open before she could knock, and a woman stepped out, a regal, elegant figure dressed in black silk. Her sharp features softened only slightly as she looked at Diana.
"I'm Eliza Lancaster," the woman said, her voice cool but not unkind. "Welcome home."
---
Diana had barely managed to hear what Eliza said before dizziness hit her.
Lancaster? The name stirred something in her, like a distant, incoherent, almost unreachable memory.
Before she could reply, a figure emerged from the shadows behind Eliza. It was a tall young man with piercing blue eyes and a presence that filled the air in the room. His gaze was fixed on Diana, stern and appraising.
"You shouldn't have brought her here," he said coldly, addressing Eliza.
"Jason," Eliza warned, her tone sharp. "Enough."
Jason's tensed but he said nothing more. Diana stared at him, her heart pounding for reasons she couldn't explain. There was something familiar about him, something that made her chest ache with a feeling that she had not been left behind.
Jason's expression was unreadable, but the hostility in his eyes was unmistakable. He looked at her as if she was an unwelcomed intruder.
"Was that my brother?" she thought, and a shiver ran through her body.
Her twin.
The reality hit her like a punch to the gut. She had dreamed of finding family for so long, but this, this was not what she had imagined.
"I don't want her here," Jason said flatly.
The words stung more than Diana expected. She swallowed hard, trying to hide the hurt that flickered across her face.
"She's staying," Eliza said with finality, her gaze cutting between them. "You'll get used to it."
Jason's eyes darkened, but he didn't argue. He turned on his heel and disappeared down a long corridor, leaving Diana standing there, feeling more lost than ever.
---
Later that night, Diana lay awake in the unfamiliar luxury of her new room, her mind spinning. The soft silk sheets and ornate furniture should have made her feel special, but all she felt was emptiness.
Then it hit her, sharp and sudden, like a knife to the chest.
A memory.
She saw herself standing on the edge of a cliff, the wind whipping through her hair. Fear clawed at her throat as a figure approached, a man with cold blue eyes. Jason.
"Don't do this," she whispered in the memory, her voice trembling.
But Jason didn't stop. He reached out, and she felt herself falling, falling through darkness, through time, through lifetimes.
The memory ended as abruptly as it began, leaving Diana gasping for breath. Her heart pounded violently in her chest, her skin clammy with fear.
Jason had been there. In another life, he had let her fall.
And now, he was here again, her twin brother, her enemy.
'He killed me.'
The realization hit her like a tidal wave, dragging her under. She wasn't just a girl searching for a family, she was a girl with unfinished business.
Diana sat up, her fists clenched at her sides.
'I'll never let him hurt me again.'
The rain battered against the windows, as if the universe itself was warning her of the storm to come.
And Diana vowed, right then and there, that she would uncover every secret the Lancasters were hiding. She would destroy them all if she had to.
Starting with Jason.
---
As Diana drifted into a restless sleep, the door to her room creaked open, and a shadow slipped inside. Jason stood silently in the doorway, watching her with an expression she couldn't see.
"Stay out of my way," he whispered, so softly it could have been a dream.
Then, just as silently, he disappeared into the night.