Kenji's P.O.V
"Where is my daughter?" Amara demanded.
Amara De Luca, wife of Antonio De Luca, kept his last name as a form of loyalty.
They were what you call true love; Antonio would kill anyone who touched Amara, and Amara would do the same.
But after their kids were born, Amanda wasn't the same as others; she lost the spark that made others tremble, but no worries; Antonio was there for her.
After they lost their kid, and she found out it was a girl, something died that day.
When she married Antonio, she knew they would never have a girl, but little did others know that that's the only thing she even wanted.
A daughter who looked after her beloved husband, she knew girls took after their father.
And the truth is, she was never mentally okay; she just refused to talk to people,aka sons, who killed her husband.
"Mom, please calm down," Henry begged.
And a few seconds later, I see Alexsa.
What is she doing here? She was told to stay away.
"Mom?" She questions with her inoccent voice.
Amara looks at her and makes a confused face.
"Where is my Azalea?"
"Mom, there's something I need to tell you." Henry begins, but he's obviously nervous.
"Mom, she's a twin."
She didn't take it well. I have heard that Amara hated the way she looked; it reminded her of her mother, and since Alexsa looks like her... My guess is that she doesn't like her.
Me, Henry, and Owen, we need to somehow assure that Azalea is okay and she hasn't been missing for the past 4 months.
Everyone has been sick; no one could go to her room; it's full of her scent.
Dorian took it worse; he blames himself for it, and he said that she didn't want to go to that clinic.
But strangely, we can't find her; we can't track her; we have nothing.
"You think you can fool me; you don't know who I am." Amara stands up.
"Where is her room?" Owen tells her the way, and she goes.
Somehow, she has completely ignored her other daughter.
Amara's P.O.V
I walk to my daughter's room. I understand I have another daughter, but something seems off. I can feel it.
I see it in her smile.
She smiles, but if you look at that smile too long, it seems like an evil smirk—not even a smirk, but something like an ugly lip curl.
I know you can't smile out of happiness at seeing your mother when your fists are clenched like that.
Trust me I have been married to a psychopath for more than 20 years.
I look around and see nothing other than her scent, which is very pleasant.
I go to Alex's room, look around, and see a paper that has been thrown in the trash can.
I take a look at it and see the name Azalea.
It's a latter. I opened it and started to read.
~
Hello, if you're reading this latter, it means that I have decided to run away and not to throw this latter away and stay. All I want to say is the truth: none of you listened.
Alexsa was taken by 'our uncle'; he did it because she was more Russian-like. As Alexsa said, he did stuff for me, like when I told him I wanted to be an actress and then took me to a building where I was raped at the age of 6. I was promised that it wouldn't happen again, but guess what happened when I was 8? I was sold by my parents; I never had good relationships with Alexsa; she never liked me; she was always jealous of my eyes; that's why she made me insecure about them.
When we were 13, she came and told me how bad she feels that we are not close, so she offered to buy me a dinner. She used to go with Bodyguards all the time, so it was just me, her, and two men. I was happy that day that I would have finally made up with her, but I should have known her wide smile was suspicious. She watched me as I got my clothes ripped off me, and some people started to beat me. She stood there laughing like she saw something funny. She left, and I was left alone with those people.
She loves to make me insecure and ashamed of myself, which is why she showed the whole school a video of me getting raped. Everyone thought I was a prostitute, little did they know I was drugged, and they couldn't understand what was happening. Another present from her was given to me: this scar on my eye. She tried to take my eye out. I asked Alexsa earlier, and if you're reading this, that means you chose her. Please do not look for me.
~
I read the letter in disbelief and ran downstairs as fast as I could. I'm no longer as fast as I used to be.
I see Alexsa and slap her across the face. I hear gasps.
"Mom, what?" I hear my husband's killer say.
"Dorian, sit down," he says, and I begin to read the letter out loud.