Heartprints in the Void
⊰ 11 ⊱ Fragments of Truth

The Florida heat hits me like a wall as I step out of the air-conditioned taxi. I squint against the bright sunlight, taking in the sight of Aunt Irene's house. It's been a year since I've been here, but little seems to have changed. The palm trees

sway gently in the breeze, their fronds casting dancing shadows on the well-manicured lawn.

I stand there for a moment, memories washing over me. This house became my home when I was ten, a scared and grieving orphan thrust into a new life. Aunt Irene took me in, raised me as her own alongside my younger cousin Maisie. I wish I could say I have nothing but pleasant memories of it all, but as I walk toward the front door, my steps only seem to get heavier, anxiety gnawing at my insides.

*Breathe. It'll be fine.*

Before I can reach for the doorbell, I hear movement inside. My heart races. I haven't told Aunt Irene I was coming-partly because I was afraid she'd tell me not to, and partly because I knew I needed to see her face when I asked about David Sinclair again.

The door swings open, and there she stands. She looks both older and exactly the same as I remember. Her hair, once a rich dark brown like mine, is now streaked with silver. Her sharp eyes widening as she takes me in.

"Elysian?" she gasps, her hand flying to her chest. "What on earth are you doing here?"

I force a smile, trying to look more confident than I feel. "Surprise, Aunt Irene. Can I come in?"

She hesitates for a moment, and I can see the wheels turning in her head. Finally, she steps aside, gesturing me in. "Of course, of course. Come in out of this heat."

I follow her into the house, the familiar scent of jasmine and old books wrapping around me. The living room is just as I remember-cluttered but cozy, with stacks of books on every available surface and family photos covering the walls. It's nostalgic.

"Sit," Aunt Irene says, gesturing to the worn floral couch. "I'll get us some iced tea."

I nod, a small smile still forced on my lips as I watch her go. She disappears into the kitchen, and I replace myself drawn to the photos on the mantelpiece. There's one of me and Maisie, taken years ago. We're both grinning at the camera, our arms around each other. I was probably fifteen then, awkward and gangly, while she was just a little thing, barely reaching my waist.

"She asks about you, you know."

I jump at the sound of Aunt Irene's voice. She's standing in the doorway, a tray with two glasses of iced tea in her hands.

"Maisie?" I ask, though I already know the answer. "How is she?"

Aunt Irene sets the tray down on the coffee table, her movements careful. "She's well. Busy with high school now, if you can believe it. Junior year."

I smile, pride and a pang of sadness washing over me. "That's great. I always knew she was smart."

We sit in silence for a moment, both of us sipping our iced tea. Subconsciously, I tap the heel of my foot against the floor, welcoming any sound in the awfully quiet room. *Awkward. This is awkward. Of course, it's awkward. What was I expecting?*

After a long and painful moment, Aunt Irene speaks. "Not that it isn't pleasant to see you, Elysian, but what exactly are you doing here? It's not like you to visit just to catch up." *Fair enough.*

I take a deep breath, setting my glass down on a coaster. "You're right," I admit. "I need to know the truth, Aunt Irene. About David...Sinclair."

The change in her demeanor is immediate. Her shoulders tense, her knuckles turning white as she grips her glass tighter. "I told you on the phone, I can't talk about that."

"Please," I say, leaning forward. "I need to know. For my family's sake."

Her eyes flick to a photo on the side of the table one of Maisie as a toddler, her chubby cheeks split in a wide grin. Something in her expression shifts, pain and resignation crossing her face.

"You married that son of his, didn't you?" she asks, though it doesn't really sound like a question.

I nod. "Yes. Cade and I... we have a daughter now."

I never kept my relationship with Cade a secret from her. And though she often seemed quick to change the subject the few times we spoke and I brought him up, I intended for them to meet 4 years ago, after he proposed. But then he left... or was *taken* from me, and they never got the chance to.

Aunt Irene closes her eyes, taking a deep breath. When she opens them again, there's a steely determination there that I've never seen before.

"What I'm about to tell you... you can never tell anyone, do you understand?” Her voice is low, urgent. "I'll be in a lot of trouble."

I nod again, my heart pounding so hard I'm sure she must be able to hear it.

*What the hell happened?*

She sets her glass down, her hands shaking slightly. "It was... God, it must be about seventeen years ago now. I was younger then, foolish. I got involved with a man-charming, wealthy, promised me the world." My breath catches in my throat. I have a feeling I know where this is going, but I stay silent, letting her continue.

"It was just a fling, or so I thought. It went on for two years, then I found out I was pregnant." She pauses, her gaze distant. "I was scared, alone. I didn't know what to do. When I told him, he... he panicked. Said he was married and no one could ever know."

The pieces start to fall into place in my mind, a picture forming that I'm not sure I want to see.

"The man," I say, my voice barely above a whisper. "It was David Sinclair, wasn't it?"

Aunt Irene nods, blinking away the tears glossing her eyes. "Yes. Maisie... Maisie is his daughter."

My breath catches in my lungs, the revelation hitting me like a physical blow. I think back to all the times I helped care for Maisie, all the milestones I witnessed. Her first steps, her first words, her first day of school. All this time, she was my cousin... and Cade's half-sister.

*And he has no idea...*

"Does she know?" I ask, though I'm pretty sure I already know the answer.

Aunt Irene shakes her head. "No. David... he paid me a lot of money to keep quiet. He knew it would destroy his marriage if his wife ever found out. So he threatened to destroy me if I ever told anyone."

She pauses again, the years of remorse etched into every line of her face. "I was scared. Your father had just died and I needed the money. So I took it and I never told a soul about who her father was. Not even you."

I feel a surge of anger on her behalf, on Maisie's behalf. And thinking about Naomi... about how her own mother abandoned her for money, it hits a little too close to home.

"How could he do that? Just... abandon his own child?"

"He was protecting his image, his family," Aunt Irene says bitterly. "In his world, a scandal like that could ruin everything."

I think of Cade, of the complex relationship he has with his father. How would he react to knowing he has a half-sister? And Naomi-she has an aunt she's never met, that no one even knew existed.

I part my lips to speak, but then Aunt Irene looks at me, her eyes filled with a weariness, a sigh parting her lips. "Elysian, you have to understand that this information... if David replaces out I've told you..."

I lean forward, reaching for her hand and squeezing it in my own, trying to convey reassurance I'm not sure I feel. "I won't let anything happen to you, or to Maisie. I promise."

*But how am I supposed to share this with Cade? Should I? He's my husband... I can't keep this from him.*

We sit in silence for a while, my mind racing. It seems that the more I learn about David, the less I understand. Olivia... my favorite professor, one of the greatest people I've ever met... how would she feel if she were alive right now to see what David has become? What he's always been?

*Did she know?*

I look down at the diamond on my ring, and for a long moment, I stare at it, wondering how many people, how many lives David has ruined just because he can. Just because he has the money and influence to do it.

"What are you going to do?" Aunt Irene's voice pierces through my thoughts, tinged with an undercurrent of concern.

I take a deep breath, trying to center myself. "I don't know," I admit.

*I don't know, but I do know that I need to talk to Cade.*

...

*He deserves to know he has a sister.*