Chapter 8
Anna was back-stomach pumped, but otherwise fine.
Exhausted, everyone else had gone to rest. But Max was still sifting through evidence, trying to see if Stella had actually poisoned anything. After reviewing hours of footage, there was no sign of her touching that damn bag. A wave of guilt crashed over him.
His grip tightened on the steering wheel as a memory surfaced-Stella from three years ago, vibrant and effervescent, always bounding up to share some new discovery or excitement with him, Her presence had been a constant stream of warmth and energy.
Now, she was a shadow of that girl. She didn’t call him by his name anymore-just Mr. Hayes, cold and formal, like they were strangers.
Before she’d returned, the whole family had agreed-they’d make it up to her. She’d suffered enough out there on her own.
But the moment he saw her, something twisted inside him. That look in her eyes said they owed her. And maybe they did, but it wasn’t as if they hadn’t tried to find her. They’d searched for years.
Frustration simmered under his skin. Remembering Eleanor’s request, he pulled out his phone and called Dr. Martin Dewitt. After hanging up, he dialed his assistant. “Get everything the police have on Stella’s whereabouts these past three years.”
Before he could even set the phone down, it rang again. His childhood friend invited him out for a drink. The invitation came with a casual mention that Lionel had been unable to join. Max, however, started the car and drove off.
**
The house was silent, but Stella couldn’t sleep. Maybe the room was too big, too still, no drafts, and no familiar creaks. Or maybe the bed was too soft, like sinking into a dream. The pastel delicate decor around her felt surreal, like she’d stepped into someone else’s life.
Then she heard a knock. Her eyes flew open, muscles locking tight. Instinct took over. Her hand shot out, grabbing the nearest thing—a small bed broom-before she even registered moving. Old habits. Dusty Pines had trained her well.
The door opened. Fiona and Andrew stepped in, and Stella froze. She didn’t speak. Fiona quietly shut the door behind them.
Andrew’s gaze dropped to the broom in her white-knuckled grip. “Still awake?”
Stella’s voice was flat. “What do you want?” Her posture didn’t relax.
He scoffed, “Planning to attack us with that?”
Only then did she glance down at the broom. She released it but kept it within reach.
‘Andrew’s temper flared. “We’re your parents. You come home after years, poison Anna, and now you’re ready to swing at us? What the hell happened to you out there?”
Fiona touched his arm, shooting him a look. “We don’t know it was her, Andrew. We’re just here to talk.” .
“Then why’d she grab that thing?” He shook his head, disgusted. “Three years gone, and you come back like this?”
Stella said nothing. The words carved into her, sharp and familiar.
1/2
Chapter 8
Fiona stepped forward, voice softening. “Ignore him. He’s just worried, not targeting you. Anna’s always been frail-if the poison had been worse, she could’ve failed to make it.”
Stella didn’t respond, her expression dimming with quiet disappointment.
“We came this late just to hear the truth from you. There’s no one else, just us. Tell us honestly-did you put something harmful in the pastries?”
