Dylan squeezed Anastasia's hand, his voice gentle yet firm. "Hey, it's going to be okay, I promise."
She nodded, mustering a weak smile, grateful for his presence. The chaos in her mind threatened to consume her, but at least she wasn't facing it alone.
"We'll see you both inside?" she asked her brothers, who were still unloading bags from the car.
Hand in hand, she and Dylan stepped into the house, only to be met with the sound of lively laughter from the lounge. The moment she walked in, her entire body froze.
No. No. No. This couldn't be real.
Her stomach clenched. Her breath hitched. Sitting on the couch, smiling sweetly at Beth and Wyatt, was a girl with long pink hair.
Bailey.
Her world tilted. White-hot rage burned through her veins. Her jaw clenched so tightly it ached.
Bailey? BAILEY is in my house?!
Wyatt beamed at her. "Ah, Britney, Ana's here."
The pink-haired girl turned slowly, her wide, saccharine smile confirming the horror.
"Hi there," she chirped, her voice drenched in fake cheer.
Ice pooled in Anastasia's veins. Her worst nightmare was sitting right in front of her. Different name, same monster. Britney and Bailey were one and the same. Strip away the pretense, and the same green eyes, the same voice, the same sickly sweet smile remained.
Her father wrapped her in a hug, his warmth doing nothing to thaw the frost gripping her insides. "Welcome home, honey. You okay?"
No. No, she was absolutely not okay.
Dylan's hand tightened around hers. "Ana?"
She barely registered him. Flashes of the night before—the ball, the eerie familiarity, the venom in Britney's gaze when she helped Matt—flooded her mind.
Oh, God. MATT.
Britney had been trying to seduce Matt.
Her stomach lurched. Her mouth flooded with saliva. She turned and bolted for the kitchen, barely making it to the sink before retching.
Wyatt and Dylan stood frozen, their worry hanging thick in the air.
"I'll check on her," Dylan assured Wyatt, dashing after her.
Wyatt sat down, looking pale. Then a horrifying thought dawned on him.
Oh my god, is she pregnant?!
Trying to erase the terrifying notion, he exhaled sharply and turned to Beth, who arched a brow. "You okay?"
"Yup. Everything is fine," he lied through his teeth.
"Don't worry, Daddy, I'll check on her." Britney's sing-song voice made his skin crawl. Before he could object, she was already skipping toward the kitchen.
Anastasia's hands trembled as she gripped the edge of the sink, her breaths coming in sharp gasps. Dylan knelt beside her, rubbing slow circles on her back. "Ana, talk to me. What's going on?"
Before she could answer, a voice oozing with mock innocence rang out. "Oh, Ana, are you okay?"
Her fury exploded. She whirled around, eyes blazing. "You! You haven't changed one bit! If anything, you're worse!"
Britney only giggled, her eyes flickering with amusement as footsteps sounded from the hallway.
"Ana?" Matt's voice cut through the tension as he entered the kitchen. "Dad said you weren't feeling well—" He stopped dead in his tracks. His eyes flickered from Anastasia's murderous expression to Britney's delighted smirk. "What the hell is going on?"
Britney squealed and lunged forward, throwing her arms around him. "Matty!"
Matt stiffened. His wide eyes darted to Anastasia, who stood there, seething.
She slowly mouthed one word.
Bailey.
His face twisted in confusion. "What?"
"B-A-I-L-E-Y." She exaggerated each syllable, pointing at Britney.
Realization struck him like a freight train. His body recoiled as he ripped her hands off him. He staggered back, his face draining of color.
No. No. No.
His stomach twisted violently as his mind replayed every disgusting second—her toast, the kiss, her hands unzipping his pants. He felt sick.
"I think I'm going to throw up!" he choked out, bolting for the front door.
Anastasia's gaze snapped back to Britney, whose giggle was pure malice. Her fury boiled over. She took a slow step forward, voice dripping with venom.
"As I said last night, stay the fuck away from Matt. Stay the fuck away from Sean. Or I swear, nothing—not your mother, not your tricks, not even the devil himself—will save you from me."
Britney's eyes twinkled, as if drinking in every ounce of their misery. "Oh, Anastasia, you're so dramatic."
She turned on her heel and waltzed back into the lounge, humming as if she hadn't just shattered their reality.
Dylan exhaled sharply. "Ana, what the hell is going on?"
"Later," she muttered, already moving. "I need to check on Matt."
She found him curled up outside, knees hugged to his chest. He looked broken.
"Matty?" she whispered, crouching beside him.
"I feel sick," he rasped. "She drugged me. Kissed me. She—" He swallowed hard, unable to say the rest.
Anastasia's hands fisted. "She's playing games. And she's getting better at them. What she did last night was planned. She's been here for a while, waiting."
"We can't stay here, Ana."
She cupped his face, forcing his shattered gaze to meet hers. "We will be fine. We're stronger now. We know her tricks. And we will not let her win."
Something in her words ignited a spark in him. He inhaled deeply, nodding. "You're right. I won't let that psycho mess with me."
He pushed himself up, rolling his shoulders. His confidence—his fire—was returning.
"Hey." She grabbed his wrist before he could storm off. "Let's not tell Sean. Not yet."
He hesitated before nodding. "Fine."
Dinner that night was suffocating. Wyatt and Beth remained blissfully unaware, but the tension was a tangible force pressing on Anastasia's chest. Later, as she and Dylan settled into bed, he turned to her.
"You never did tell me what happened."
She forced a smile. "Just old sibling rivalry. You remember the things I told you about Britney? She hasn't changed."
Dylan arched a brow. "She's just impulsive. I'm sure she's grown out of it."
"Babe, she was awful then, and she's awful now."
He sighed, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. "She's not that bad."
A scream erupted from down the hall.
"GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY ROOM, YOU PSYCHO BITCH!"
Both their heads snapped up.
Matt.