Or maybe not normal. But definitely better.
“You’re quiet,” Milly says, glancing over at me.
I smile, watching the ocean blur past us. “Just thinking about things.”
She’s the only one I’ve talked with about the fragments that are fitting together. Not my entire memory—not yet—but enough pieces to form a pattern.
“These new clothes suit you,” Milly says, changing the subject. “That black dress will be amazing on you when you’re feeling up to a night out with me.”
“I might use it sooner than later,” I reply, running my fingers over the shopping bags. Inside are sleek dresses, tailored pants, and tops with sharp lines—nothing like the soft, feminine clothes that filled my closet before.
Milly turns and smiles at me. “Good.”
When we round the corner to our home, I spot a police car parked at the curb. My pulse quickens, but I keep my face neutral.
Milly presses her fob. The gates to the underground garage slide open. “Shit,” she mutters.
My heart hammers against my chest as the car disappears into the garage. “Hopefully it's news about who tried to kill me.”
“Hopefully,” Milly says as she turns off the engine.
“Just promise me to have my back and not let anyone know about my memory,” I ask her, opening the car door.
“I promise, Amara.”
We step into the lift, and I’m not surprised to find we’re not alone. A policewoman in full uniform stands beside another in plain clothes. The uniformed officer gives me and Milly a sorrowful look before asking us to take a seat in the living room.
When I step into the room, Dom and Caleb are waiting. Their faces are grim, and something in their posture tells me everything has changed.
But just seeing them sitting together is strange in itself.
I straighten my shoulders. Whatever’s coming, I’m ready.
I sit on the edge of the sofa, feeling Milly’s warm presence beside me. The plain-clothed officer takes a seat opposite us, her face set in that professional mask they must teach at the academy. Compassionate but detached.
“I’ve already let Mr. de Luca know,” she begins, her voice gentle but with an unmistakable firmness to it, like she is determined to remain in control. “And I am very sorry.”
She looks from me to Milly and back again, taking a breath before continuing.
“We’ve met before. I’m Detective Ingram and I’m very sorry to break this news to you. But your mother was found dead this morning.”
The words hang in the air. I feel nothing at first, just a strange hollowness where an emotion should be. It’s like my heart doesn’t even care.
Milly gasps beside me, her body tensing. I place my hand over my heart, trying to act the same way she is. But as much as my heart beats at a steady rate beneath my palm, I feel nothing at all.
Milly wraps her arm around my shoulder and pulls me against her. “That was a really insensitive way of breaking the news. She doesn’t even know who she is. She has amnesia.”
But Milly knows exactly who Helena is. I told her two days ago, while we ate lunch. I told her everything—almost.
“I’m sorry,” the officer says, shifting in her seat. “I’m just here to break the news and start my investigation.”
I glance first at Dom, then at Caleb. Their expressions are unreadable, but both have their eyes firmly on me, waiting for me to fall, I suspect.
“Was she targeted...like I was?” I ask. My voice is quiet as my hand reaches up and touches my face where the raised scar remains, though my stitches are no longer.
The policewoman’s eyes narrow slightly as she studies my reaction. Is she watching me too closely?
“We don’t know that yet. I did briefly read your file before coming today.”
