Chapter 6: The Note That Changed Everything

But then, an accident set off alarm bells in my mind.

It was a small thing—a folded note slipped into my locker, a heart drawn in red ink. But it was enough to shatter my sense of safety.

Sophomore year is when teenagers start feeling their first crushes. Even though I wore yellowish foundation and painted fake acne marks on my face every day, I still got a love letter.

I tried everything to make myself invisible—baggy clothes, bad posture, even a fake limp. But hormones are stronger than camouflage, and someone still noticed me.

Mason happened to see it as he passed by.

He snatched the note before I could hide it, his eyes narrowing as he read. I saw the muscle in his jaw twitch, and I knew I was in trouble.

He chased the boy off and, as my “big brother,” sternly forbade me from dating.

He cornered the boy behind the gym, his voice low and threatening. By the time he returned, the kid was gone, and Mason’s hands were shaking with barely contained rage.

That night, after finishing an online meeting in the middle of the night, I went downstairs for a glass of water.

The house was silent, the only sound the soft hum of the fridge. I tiptoed through the kitchen, trying not to wake anyone. My mind replayed the events of the day, every detail sharp and unsettling.

As soon as I stepped out, I ran right into Mason, who was still damp from a shower.

He stood in the hallway, a towel slung over his shoulders, hair dripping onto the hardwood floor. His eyes were dark, unreadable, and he didn’t move as I stumbled into him.

It was one in the morning—normally, everyone in the Whitaker house would be asleep by now.

The grandfather clock in the foyer chimed softly, marking the hour. The rest of the house was dark, the windows reflecting only our shadows.

I wasn’t wearing my usual disguise.

My face was bare, my hair down for once. I felt exposed, vulnerable—like he could see straight through me.

I saw him staring at my face in a daze, an expression I couldn’t quite place, but it felt eerily familiar.

His gaze lingered too long, tracing every feature. There was something hungry in his eyes, something that made my skin crawl. I forced myself to look away.

I forced myself to act calm, greeted him, grabbed my water, and hurried back to my room.

“Hey, Mason,” I said, my voice steady. I filled my glass, then slipped past him without waiting for a response. My heart pounded in my chest, but I kept my head high.

My heart was pounding, a wave of panic washing over me.

I locked my door behind me, pressing my back against the wood. My hands shook as I sipped my water, trying to steady my breathing. The old fear was back, sharp and unrelenting.

In this life, Mr. and Mrs. Whitaker hadn’t told anyone I wasn’t their real daughter.

On paper, we were still siblings—no one knew the truth except the four of us. That should have been enough to keep things normal, but nothing ever was.

By rights, Mason shouldn’t have any inappropriate feelings for me, his so-called sister.

It was unthinkable, impossible. But the way he looked at me tonight... I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

I spent the whole night on edge.

I lay awake, staring at the ceiling, listening for footsteps in the hallway. Every creak of the house made me jump.

The next day, Mason acted completely normal, going to school with me as usual.

He joked with the driver, teased me about my messy hair, even offered me his last granola bar. If he remembered last night, he didn’t show it.

But at lunch, he cornered me in the equipment room.

He waited until the hallways were empty, then pulled me inside and closed the door. The air was thick with dust and the scent of old gym mats.

“Emmy, don’t you have anything to explain to your brother?”

His voice was low, almost accusing. He blocked the door, arms crossed over his chest.

“What?”

I played dumb, hoping he’d drop it. My hands fidgeted with the strap of my backpack.

“Your face. Why...”

He stepped closer, pulling a makeup remover wipe from his pocket. His fingers brushed my chin, gentle but insistent.

His touch sent a shiver down my spine. I tried to pull away, but he held me firmly, his eyes locked on mine.

“I just don’t want anyone chasing after me or distracting me from my studies!”

I blurted out the excuse, hoping it would satisfy him. My voice trembled, but I forced a smile.

“Besides, Dad said we should socialize with other young heirs, but I don’t want to be set up with anyone...”

I added the last part, trying to shift the conversation away from my disguise. Maybe if he thought I was just shy, he’d back off.

I could feel his grip on my chin loosening.

He hesitated, searching my face for something. For a moment, I thought he might let me go.

“If you don’t want an arranged marriage, then you won’t have one. With your brother here, no one will force you.”

His tone was protective, almost tender. But there was an edge to it, a possessiveness that made me uneasy.

“But if you want to keep wearing makeup, go ahead. Gotta keep those creeps away from my beautiful little sister.”

He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. I felt a chill run down my spine.

His low voice sounded just like the lunatic from my past life.

The cadence, the intensity—it was all too familiar. I swallowed hard, forcing myself not to flinch.

He kept staring at my face in a way that was far too intense for siblings.

His gaze lingered, heavy and unsettling. I looked away, pretending to check my phone.

Thankfully, the bell rang. I pretended to be in a hurry and managed to slip out of his grasp.

The shrill ring was a lifeline. I grabbed my backpack and bolted, mumbling an excuse about being late for class.

Back in the classroom, I realized my uniform was soaked with sweat.

I slumped into my seat, wiping my palms on my skirt. Carter glanced over, concern flickering in his eyes, but I just shook my head.

After that, at home, I kept feeling Mason’s gaze on me, subtle but constant.

He watched me at dinner, followed me with his eyes as I moved around the house. Even when he wasn’t in the room, I felt his presence like a shadow.

The suffocating fear and memories of being locked away came rushing back.

Every night, I checked the locks on my windows, pushed a chair under my door handle. I slept with a flashlight under my pillow, just in case.

I told Mrs. Whitaker I wanted to sign up for tutoring for academic competitions and started going to evening classes after school.

She was thrilled—finally, something she could brag about to her friends. I signed up for every after-school program I could find, anything to stay out of the house.

Mason wanted to go with me, but Mr. Whitaker stopped him.

Dad insisted Mason focus on business lessons, prepping him to take over the family company. It was the first time I was grateful for his ambition.

After class, he had to attend business lessons or join Mr. Whitaker for online meetings and reports.

I watched from the window as Mason trudged into Dad’s study, a stack of binders under his arm. For once, our paths didn’t cross.

So, by deliberately avoiding him, we barely saw each other alone except for the occasional snack delivery at school.

He’d still leave little treats in my locker—my favorite energy bars, a note in his messy handwriting. But I made sure never to be alone with him for long.