Chapter 6
Sebastian's POV
I stood in my study, clutching that yellowed photograph. The image was seared into my mind: the shock on Joanna's face when she saw the photo, the flicker of confusion when she said it looked "familiar."
Damn it, why would she find it familiar?
In the photo, Elodie’s smile was pure innocence, her eyes holding a light I thought had been extinguished forever. And just now, standing before me, her face swollen from that bastard’s fist, Joanna had those same eyes. So clear they felt like they could see right through me.
"Impossible."
Elodie was dead. I saw the car burn. I buried her myself. Joanna was just a coincidence—a cruel, painful coincidence.
So why was my heart still racing?
She shouldn't exist. She had no right to look at me with Elodie's eyes, dragging up a past I had fought so hard to bury.
Every cruel act was a punishment—for daring to wear Elodie’s face. When I humiliated her in the conference room, I saw the shame warring with a flicker of strength in her eyes. When I forced her to serve drinks at dinner, I saw the stubborn set of her jaw as she fought back tears. When I made her move into my house, I saw the raw fear.
But every time I saw tears well in her eyes, something inside me splintered. The feeling was terrifying. I had no right to feel anything for her. She was just a substitute.
I slammed my glass down hard, amber liquid splashing over the rim.
She wasn't Elodie. She was just a ghost.
The memories pulled me under. I closed my eyes, and I was back in that cold, lonely childhood.
When I was ten, my mother died of illness. My father—a ruthless business tycoon—never cared about my feelings. He just threw money at my life, dumped me in boarding school, left me to fend for myself.
I became everyone's target. Those kids called me a "motherless bastard," said I was trash my father had abandoned. On the playground, they'd gang up on me, throw my backpack in mud puddles, tear up my homework.
That day, they'd beaten me bloody. I curled up in a corner, feeling like I deserved to die. The metallic taste of blood filled my nose, my scraped knees burned, but nothing hurt worse than the despair in my chest.
That's when Elodie appeared.
She was a few years younger, wearing a worn school uniform with patches on her shoes, but her eyes held a light that defied the grayness of it all.
Ignoring the other kids' taunts, she ran over and stood in front of me, using her tiny body as a shield, shouting at them: "Leave him alone or I'll tell the teacher!"
"Get lost, little beggar! This isn't your business!" One boy shoved her hard.
She fell, scraping her knee through her threadbare socks, blood seeping through the fabric. But she still grabbed my hand and pulled me away, taking me to the nurse's office.
"Don't be scared, Sebastian. I'll protect you." Her voice was soft, a startling warmth in the cold room.
She clumsily helped clean my wounds, her touch gentle as if afraid of hurting me. Sunlight caught the dust motes in the air, framing her face in a halo that made her eyes seem to glow.
"Does it hurt?" she asked quietly, worry filling her small face.
I shook my head. It did hurt, but looking into her caring eyes, nothing else mattered.
In that moment, I found my first reason to live.
We became inseparable after that. She'd always share half her lunch with me, saying "food tastes better when you share it." When I had nightmares, she'd hold my hand and hum softly until I fell asleep. She taught me how to find light in darkness, hope in despair.
I remember her favorite brown teddy bear, how sweetly she'd smile holding it while sleeping. I remember how she'd drag me to the lake at sunset, saying the view was most beautiful then. I remember her eyes—every time she laughed, they could chase away all my shadows.
I swore to protect her forever, to give her the best life, to make sure she'd never wear patched clothes again.
But that car accident... I failed.
I watched the car crumple, watched the flames consume everything. I didn't even get to say goodbye. That day, my world shattered, leaving nothing but emptiness and hate.
I opened my eyes, tears blurring my vision.
I stood and looked towards the study door, picturing Joanna in the next room. She would be sleeping restlessly, her face still swollen, her brow furrowed as if she were fighting battles even in her sleep.
I walked to her bedroom door, my hand hovering over the knob. This was a line I shouldn't cross. But I pushed the door open anyway.
The room was dim, only faint light from the window falling across her bed. She was curled under the covers, sleeping, though her brow was slightly creased, as if fighting those same battles in her sleep.
The red mark on her cheek stood out starkly in the moonlight.
I approached the bed, looking down at her. Even asleep, those closed eyes made my heart race. How could they be so similar? Similar enough to make me almost believe she was Elodie.
Against my better judgment, my hand lifted, my fingertips hovering inches from her skin. This close, I could feel her breath, warm and steady. If she really was Elodie...
No. I jerked my hand back. Elodie was dead. I couldn't let myself fall into this fantasy.
My gaze swept the nightstand, noticing an old heart-shaped locket she must have taken off before bed. The silver surface was tarnished, clearly aged.
Something compelled me to pick it up, gently opening the clasp. Inside was a tiny photo—a mother with two children. The girl was clearly young Joanna, next to an older boy who must be her brother.
A wave of bitter relief washed over me. "Of course," I whispered. "How could she be? Elodie is dead."
I laughed, a harsh, bitter sound in the quiet room, and closed the locket. I was a fool. She had her own family, her own past.
But as I turned to leave, I noticed something peeking out from under her pillow. I gently pulled it out—a worn teddy bear, brown fur patchy and missing, one eye loose, but that shape, that size...
The air left my lungs. My heart seized.
This bear...
"Impossible," I whispered, hands beginning to shake.
But I saw it at the crash site... didn't I? The bear, in the wreckage...
I stood there for a long time, my mind warring with itself. The little bear felt impossibly heavy in my hands, as if it were crushing the very breath from my lungs.
If this bear really was the one I'd given Elodie, then Joanna...
Maybe it was just coincidence. Maybe this was just a similar toy. I needed more evidence. I needed the truth.
I took one last look at her, at the troubled peace on her face, then turned and left the room.