Lulu

July 3, 2024.- I was on my way to the photography studio in my husband, Scott’s company building. Walking with steady steps, I imagined his reaction upon receiving the knitted jumper I had made for him. Clutching the paper bag containing the gift tightly, a smile never left my face.

However, as I reached the studio door, my steps faltered. I was about to knock when I heard Scott’s voice from within. His tone was cold, and an unsettling feeling crept through my veins.

"Lulu doesn’t need to know what I’ve planned," he said.

I frowned. What did he mean? I stepped closer, holding my breath.

"Do you really think she’ll never find out?" Mylo, Scott’s best friend, sounded sharp. "Scott, this is madness. What you’re doing is a crime."

My heart pounded wildly. Pressing myself against the door, I tried to grasp the meaning of their conversation.

"I don’t care," Scott replied, his voice unwavering. "I didn’t marry Lulu out of love. It was all part of the plan. The evidence is clear—Peter took his own life because of her! I want Lulu to die slowly. Every heartbeat in her body exists only because I still grant her the chance to live."

The world seemed to stop turning. My breath hitched. I wanted to believe I had misheard him, but Scott’s voice was too clear, too real.

"And what about Leia?" Mylo pushed further. "Do you love her? No one truly knows why Peter ended his own life, do they? Even they mourned his passing."

Leia? Peter? My entire body froze. What had I just heard?

"You know why I did this," Scott said without hesitation. "Peter was everything to me. And Leia… Leia gave me the truth I needed."

Leia.

My stepcousin, the girl with an angelic smile and boundless compassion. Leia had always been the family’s darling—graceful and charming. But beneath it all, I never expected her to betray me. And now, I realised she had taken more from me than I had ever imagined.

The paper bag slipped from my trembling hands. My heart plummeted. Taking a step back, my whole body quivered. My chest tightened, as if all the air had been sucked from the room in an instant.

I had to leave.

I remembered how he once adored me, how he made me the centre of his world. “Lulu, you’re everything to me,” he had whispered one evening as we strolled along the River Thames. He always ensured I felt special, always by my side, making me believe I was the only woman in his life.

But everything had changed.

With hurried steps, I rushed out of the studio. Tears blurred my vision. My breath came in sharp gasps as I climbed into my car and started the engine.

Everything I thought I knew about my marriage was a lie. I was nothing more than a pawn in Scott’s twisted revenge.

I pressed down on the accelerator, but my hands were shaking violently. The beeping sound from the smartwatch on my wrist grew louder and faster. High Heart Rate flashed on the screen. I clutched my chest, feeling a crushing pain, as if an invisible hand was squeezing the life out of me.

I saw the red light too late.

"Bloody hell!"

A deafening crash hurled my body forward. The world spun. The shattering sound of glass filled my ears before everything faded into darkness.

***

When I woke, the sterile scent of antiseptic filled my nostrils. My head throbbed painfully, and every inch of my body ached.

I blinked against the harsh hospital lights on the ceiling. Then, I saw him.

Scott.

He sat beside my bed, holding my hand tightly. His eyes were red-rimmed, his face exhausted and filled with worry.

"Lulu," his voice was hoarse. "What happened? Why were you driving like that? You could have died!"

I stared at him. I should have hated him. I should have been furious. But all I felt was emptiness.

He lifted my hand to his lips, then pressed a kiss to my forehead. His lips trembled. "Don’t ever frighten me like that again. I can’t lose you."

He looked at me as though I was his entire world. As if I was the only thing that mattered to him.

But I knew better now.

What I didn’t understand was Scott’s connection to Peter.

I knew Peter.

He was one of the photographers who had exhibited his work at Seraphina Art Space, the gallery owned by the McCarthy family. We had grown close because Leia had introduced him to me as a photographer who had once taken her portraits. From that moment on, he often accompanied me on walks through the McCarthy mansion gardens every Sunday afternoon.

He knew about my heart condition. Again, because Leia had told him. The three of us would often chat whenever I visited the gallery. Leia loved photography, Peter had an incredible talent for capturing life in fleeting moments, and I—I was just a fortunate girl who had the chance to know them.

Peter was warm, kind. Anyone who saw us together would assume we had a special relationship. I had to keep denying it because, really, who would ever love a sick girl like me?

Scott?

His love was bloody rubbish.

I forced a weak smile. "I’m fine," I whispered.

Relief washed over his face. He leaned down, kissed me again, and whispered that he loved me, that I meant everything to him.

I let him believe that I was still his foolish wife, the one who blindly trusted him. I let him think I was still the naive woman trapped in his lies.

I studied Scott’s face, my mind racing with questions about his connection to Peter. Peter had never once mentioned Scott’s name in all our conversations. The thought made my head ache.

But Peter was gone now. And the only thing left was a man consumed by vengeance, determined to destroy me.

Oh God, what did I ever do to deserve this?

I wanted to ask Scott. I wanted to scream and demand answers. But doing so would shatter the resolve I had just built.

The moment Scott Byrne confessed his plans to me, he unknowingly sealed his fate.

With every beat of my heart, I would uncover the truth.

And in the end, I would destroy him in ways he never saw coming.

Lulu

The night of July 13, 2024.-Scott told me he was off to Paris Fashion Week while packing his things into his suitcase. It was something he always did during the summer. The fashion capital of the world was always bustling with summer fashion shows by renowned designers.

But I no longer felt reassured after hearing his confession earlier.

Sure enough, when I opened Leia's social media account, the corners of my lips turned down. Scott was embracing Leia’s waist aboard a yacht. Though his face was obscured by Leia, I recognised the watch he was wearing. I had given him that watch as a birthday gift last year.

One of the slides showed a video of them locking lips passionately, taken from a distant angle, which made me clench my fists tightly.

"How shameless."

Still angry from seeing that, I threw my phone onto the sofa. Seeing them like that truly drained me. My heart rate spiked fivefold beyond normal.

I didn’t want to waste any more time. Once, I had seen Scott shift a bookcase in his study. I hurried over to his office. Men often keep many secrets in their study, besides in their digital files.

"Where’s that book?" I whispered, searching for the old, tattered book.

My eyes widened when I found it. I slid the book about 10 inches to the right. The creaking of the wooden shelf only heightened my curiosity.

"Let’s see what else you're hiding from me, Scott."

I entered the room through the dark corridor, a narrow space that could only be passed by one person. My hand instinctively searched along the wall until my finger found the light switch. It was so easy to find for a hidden room. Scott was careless.

And as always, my judgement proved correct—I found a desk cluttered with documents. Some photos of Leia strutting down the catwalk didn’t interest me, but one object caught my attention: a blue folder from St. Avalon Health Centre.

I opened it carefully. It contained a list of heart donors, which I suspected was for me. Even when I asked Dr. Bell—my cardiologist—he always kept the details of the heart donor list under wraps.

I had to admit, Scott was clever to have kept this file hidden.

But my awe turned to bitter reality when I saw the name: Amelie Rae Jenkins.

My biological mother was on the list!

She passed away three months ago in an accident. At the time, Scott didn’t allow me to see my mother’s body. I insisted that I would be strong during the funeral, and he finally relented.

I never expected to uncover this truth.

"Oh God, why are all these truths so bitter?"

One thing lingered in my mind—if Mum had already passed away, why had I still not received her heart?

"I'm sorry, Mum. It's not that I’m not grieving, but I can't trust Scott anymore." I raised my hand, crossing my body in a sign of the cross.

Maybe I should visit the church tomorrow and seek forgiveness from God, for I wished to receive Mum’s heart before I too die.

***

On the third floor of Rosewood Law Chambers, I shook hands with the Rosewood lawyer—family lawyer of the McCarthy’s—swiftly. I sat according to the direction of his hand, on the sofa. He followed me at a slower pace, perhaps due to his age, nearing retirement.

"How can I assist you, Mrs. Byrne?"

"I want to file for divorce from Scott," I said, my voice firm, though my chest felt tight.

The Rosewood lawyer sipped his tea from his porcelain cup before answering. "I can handle that."

I swallowed, then added carefully, "And I want Lulu McCarthy to disappear."

For the first time in this conversation, his calm expression faltered. "I'm sorry?"

"I need a new identity," I said without hesitation. "I don’t want anyone to find me after this."

He studied my face for a moment, perhaps searching for signs that I was joking. But there was no lie in my eyes. I had made up my mind.

"There is someone who can help you," he said finally. "I’ll contact them."

I nodded without asking further. If anyone knew how to make someone vanish, it was surely the person the Rosewood lawyer recommended.

And so, I found myself in front of an old building in the city centre, unmarked, without any flashy lights. Just a black metal door with a nearly faded number above it.

The Vanishing Point.

A place where people disappear.

Inside, the air was thick with the smell of tobacco and old paper. The low ceiling cast long shadows from the dimly swinging chandelier. A man waited for me behind a worn wooden desk, wearing a black shirt and long coat.

"Raven?" I asked, trying to hide my nervousness.

The man looked up, his eyes sharp and calculating.

"Rosewood’s lawyer told me about you," he said. "Tell me what you need."

I took a deep breath. "I need a new identity. No one can trace me, not even my husband."

Raven leaned back in his chair, studying my expression as if trying to gauge how much I understood the world I was stepping into.

"We can do that," he said at last. "But you must understand, this isn’t just about making a fake passport and a new ID. We’ll erase Lulu McCarthy from the world."

"That’s what I want."

He stared at me for several seconds before nodding. "Alright. But I need something from you too."

I tensed. "What?"

"Information about your life, your background, anything that could jeopardise or reveal your new identity later on."

I nodded slowly. "There’s one more thing," I added.

Raven raised an eyebrow, waiting for me to continue.

"I want you to investigate my mother’s death," I said quietly. "She was listed as a heart donor at St. Avalon Health Centre, but she died in an accident three months ago."

Raven was silent for a moment, then reached for the phone on his desk and pressed a button.

"This is a job for Morpheus," he said into the phone.

It didn’t take long before someone entered the room.

Morpheus.

His figure was almost invisible, cloaked in all black, his face hidden in the shadow of his hood. He didn’t speak, only stood at the doorway, watching me silently.

"He wants an investigation into his mother’s death and the heart donor list," Raven said.

Morpheus turned toward me, and that’s when I saw them.

Those eyes.

I froze. Something in me tensed as I locked eyes with his hazel iris. I had seen them before.

But where?

My hands clenched instinctively. The memory was nearly surfacing, but I couldn’t grasp it.

"We can start now," Morpheus’s voice sounded, low and mysterious.

I kept staring into his eyes, my heart racing. I had known him—I was sure of it.

But who was he really?

Lulu

I had just reached for my purse to pay the taxi fare when the driver muttered something under his breath, his expression tense as he stared ahead.

“What is it?” I asked, following his gaze.

My heart pounded violently at the sight before me—reporters, photographers, an entire media circus crowding the entrance to the penthouse.

Camera flashes flickered relentlessly, their clicks merging with the voices of journalists calling out questions, hunting for their next headline. Or rather, waiting for me.

Damn it!

I hurriedly slipped a few pound notes into the driver’s hand, muttering a quick thanks before stepping out of the car with a sharp intake of breath. The moment my foot touched the pavement, they pounced.

“Mrs Byrne! Have you seen the photos of your husband and Miss Leia in Saint-Tropez?”

“Is it true that Scott Byrne is having an affair with Leia McCarthy?”

“How do you feel about seeing them so intimate together on the beach?”

I froze. My fists clenched at my sides as I fought to keep my expression neutral.

“I have no comment at this time,” I said evenly, then strode forward.

But the journalists weren’t so easily deterred.

“Mrs Byrne, is it true that you and Scott are having marital problems?”

“Is this the beginning of the end for your marriage?”

The beginning of the end?

The words twisted in my chest like a knife. I wasn’t naïve enough to believe Scott’s empty reassurances, but hearing the media frame it so bluntly felt like a brutal confirmation—everything I had been holding on to might truly be falling apart.

I bit my lip, forcing myself to stay upright, to remain composed. But before I could respond or even think of a suitable answer, a team of penthouse security appeared, blocking the press.

“This way, Mrs Byrne,” one of the guards said, gesturing me inside.

I didn’t hesitate. With hurried steps, I entered the lobby—a stark contrast to the chaos outside. The moment the automatic doors slid shut behind me, I exhaled a shaky breath.

My hand instinctively pressed against my chest, feeling the erratic rhythm of my heart. The sensation was a warning—I had spent far too much energy and emotion on something I wasn’t even certain of yet.

Don’t panic, Lulu.

I quickly made my way up to the penthouse, unlocking the door with trembling fingers before heading straight to the living room. My medication was on the table. With practised ease, I poured myself a glass of water and swallowed the small pill that would help steady my heart.

As the effects of the medication slowly took hold, I let out another long breath before reaching for my phone. Without thinking twice, I dialled Scott’s number.

One ring.

Two.

Three.

No answer.

I ended the call and redialled.

Still nothing.

“Come on, Scott, pick up!” I muttered, frustration bubbling beneath my skin.

I tried again. And again. The result remained the same.

I stared at my phone, my grip tightening. The urge to throw it against the wall was overwhelming, but I could do nothing except sit there, trapped between anger and helplessness.

While I was being ambushed by the press and humiliated by his affair, Scott was lounging on a beach in France with Leia—living as though I didn’t even exist.

I clenched my phone.

Fine, Scott. If this is the game you want to play, then I’ll wait. I’ll wait for you to come home and face the consequences.

***

The day on July 17, 2024,-came sooner than I expected.

When the penthouse door finally swung open, I was ready. Scott walked in first, looking as unbothered as ever, followed closely by Leia, who, as always, looked effortlessly elegant in her white dress.

I stood in the centre of the room, arms folded across my chest, my expression unreadable.

Scott sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Lulu, you’ve seen the news, haven’t you?”

“Oh, absolutely,” I said lightly. “I even got a complimentary interview from the journalists waiting outside.”

Scott let out a quiet groan. “Lulu, listen to me. It’s all just rumours. There’s nothing going on between me and Leia.”

I arched a brow. “Nothing going on?” I repeated, emphasising every word. “So you’re telling me that the photos of you two holding hands, embracing, and nearly kissing in Saint-Tropez were—what? Edited?”

Leia let out a soft laugh, stepping forward. “Lulu, you shouldn’t believe everything the media says. You know how cruel they can be.”

I met her gaze, my eyes sharp. “Funny you’d say that, Leia. Because in those photos, you looked quite comfortable playing the role of the other woman in my marriage.”

Leia’s smile faltered slightly, but she recovered quickly. Scott, on the other hand, stepped closer, reaching for my hand.

“Lulu, I swear, I haven’t been unfaithful,” he said quietly.

I pulled my hand away, exhaling a slow breath. “Alright. If that’s what you’re saying, then I’ll believe you.”

Leia and Scott exchanged glances, clearly surprised by my reaction—calmer than they had expected.

Without another word, I turned on my heel and walked towards the bedroom. The moment the door shut behind me, I leaned against it, inhaling deeply.

Did they really think I was a fool?

I knew Scott was lying. I knew there was something between him and Leia.

But if they wanted to play clean, then I would play better.

That night, as I lay in bed staring blankly at the ceiling, my phone buzzed on the nightstand. I reached for it, frowning at the name on the screen.

Morpheus.

My heartbeat quickened.

The message was brief—just one sentence. But it was enough to send a jolt through me.

“If you want the truth, meet me tomorrow night at Langley Restaurant. Eight o’clock.”

I sat up straight, staring at the text, my mind racing.

Morpheus…

Curiosity coiled in my chest like a tightening knot.

I took a deep breath, feeling my heart beat unevenly once more.

What would I learn tomorrow?

He must have found the truth about my mother’s death.