Chapter 1: The Awakening
Pain. That was the first thing Eloise Carter felt. A dull, throbbing ache in her skull, as if her mind had been ripped apart and hastily stitched back together.
She blinked against the harsh fluorescent lights above her, their glare stabbing through her skull. The air smelled of antiseptic and something metallic—blood? Her fingers twitched against the stiff hospital sheets, and a deep unease settled in her bones.
Where am I?
She turned her head slowly, wincing as pain lanced through her temples. A man sat beside the bed, his hands clasped together, knuckles white. He looked exhausted—dark circles under his eyes, a tension in his jaw that spoke of worry. His gaze locked onto hers the second she stirred.
"Eloise," he breathed, relief flooding his face.
She stared at him. His voice was warm, familiar. But something about him felt…off.
"You're awake," he said, reaching for her hand. "God, I thought I lost you."
Eloise flinched before she could stop herself. He noticed, freezing mid-reach, a flicker of something—hurt?—crossing his face before he masked it.
"Do you…know who I am?" he asked, carefully.
Panic coiled in her stomach. Her mind felt like a foggy mirror, her memories distorted, unreachable.
"I…" Her throat was dry, her voice barely a whisper. "I don't remember."
His face crumbled, but he forced a smile. "It's okay, baby. The doctors said memory loss is normal after a head injury. It'll come back."
Baby?
Eloise swallowed hard. This man—whoever he was—spoke to her with such familiarity, such certainty. Shouldn't she feel something? Recognition? Comfort?
But all she felt was a deep, unsettling fear.
Before she could respond, the door swung open, and a nurse walked in, checking the monitors. "Good to see you awake, Mrs. Carter," she said, offering a professional smile.
Mrs. Carter.
Eloise's stomach dropped. The name should fit. It should settle inside her like an old, familiar sweater.
But it didn't.
Her name was Eloise—of that, she was sure. But was she really Mrs. Carter?
The man—her supposed husband—squeezed her hand gently. "I'll be right here," he assured her. "We'll get through this together."
Something inside her screamed no.
The nurse finished her checks, gave a few instructions about rest, then left the room. Eloise stared at the man beside her, searching for anything—any piece of memory—that might confirm his place in her life.
Nothing.
"You must be tired," he said. "Get some rest. We'll talk more when you feel better."
Eloise nodded weakly, but inside, her mind raced.
Then, just as she was about to close her eyes, a faint vibration against her leg made her freeze.
Her phone.
When had she gotten it? How had she not noticed before? Slowly, carefully, she reached beneath the blanket and pulled it free. The screen was cracked, but it lit up at her touch.
One new message.
Her breath hitched as she read the words glowing on the screen:
DON'T TRUST HIM. FIND ME BEFORE IT'S TOO LATE.
Her pulse pounded in her ears.
She looked up at the man beside her, his expression unreadable as he watched her.
A chill ran down her spine.
Whoever he was…
He was lying.
Eloise didn't sleep that night.
She kept her eyes shut, breathing slow and steady, pretending to rest while her mind spun in frantic circles. The message on her phone burned in her thoughts.
Don't trust him. Find me before it's too late.
Who sent it? Who was she supposed to find?
And most terrifying of all—who was he?
The man who called himself her husband sat beside the bed, his breathing even, but every now and then, she felt his gaze on her. Watching. Waiting.
She gripped her phone under the blanket, her fingers tracing the cracked screen. The message had no contact name. Just a number. Unknown.
Her heart pounded as she turned the phone over in her hands. If he noticed her awake, if he saw her trying to reply…
Eloise inhaled deeply, exhaled slow, then carefully slid the phone beneath her pillow.
She would wait.
Wait for morning.
Wait for the right moment.
Wait for answers.
The next day, she was discharged.
The man—Daniel, he had called himself—held her arm gently as they walked through the hospital lobby. She let him. She had no choice.
She kept her face neutral, but inside, she was unraveling. The world outside felt foreign, wrong. As if she'd been plucked from her real life and dropped into someone else's.
The hospital doors slid open, and a gust of cold air hit her face. A sleek black car was parked at the entrance. He led her to it, opening the door with practiced ease.
Everything about him was careful. Too careful.
As the car pulled onto the road, Eloise stole a glance at him. He looked normal enough—dark hair, strong jaw, dressed neatly in a black coat. Handsome, even. But there was something in his eyes.
Something unreadable.
She turned to the window, watching the city blur past.
Then, she saw it.
A man on the sidewalk. Staring straight at her.
Her breath caught. His eyes locked onto hers, intense, knowing. He lifted a hand—not a wave, but a signal. A warning.
Then, just as quickly as he appeared, he was gone.
A chill ran down her spine.
Was that the person who sent the message?
Her fingers twitched for her phone. She needed to check. But just as she reached under her pillow—
"You okay?"
She jerked, snapping her head toward Daniel. His eyes flicked to her hands, to the movement beneath the blanket.
She forced a small, shaky smile. "Yeah. Just…a headache."
His face softened. "We're almost home. You'll feel better soon."
Home.
The word sent a ripple of unease through her.
She didn't know where home was.
And that terrified her.
When they pulled into the driveway, Eloise's breath stilled.
The house was beautiful—large, modern, with floor-to-ceiling windows that reflected the afternoon sun. But it meant nothing to her.
She climbed out of the car slowly, taking in the details. The garden was neat, almost too perfect. A small wind chime dangled near the entrance, its soft melody filling the silence.
"This is…our house?" she asked carefully.
Daniel smiled. "Of course. Come inside. I'll get you settled."
She followed him in, her pulse hammering.
Inside, everything looked too clean. The furniture, the walls, the pictures—it was like walking into a showroom, not a home.
Then she saw them.
The photographs.
Framed pictures lined the hallway—her and Daniel at a beach, at a dinner party, in front of a Christmas tree.
She stepped closer, heart pounding.
She was smiling in every photo. Happy. In love.
And yet,
She had no memory of any of it.
"Eloise?"
Daniel's voice was soft, careful. Too careful.
She turned to him, swallowing the fear rising in her throat. "I just… it's strange not remembering."
His eyes darkened, but only for a second. Then, he reached for her hand, squeezing gently. "It'll come back. I promise."
She forced a nod. "Yeah. Maybe."
But deep down, she knew.
Something wasn't right.
And she needed to find out what—before it was too late.