Chapter 92
Guilt prickled at Stella’s conscience. She had lied. There was no love between her and Jordan–just mutual benefit, a lifeline she’d desperately grasped.
Life with the Hayes family had been suffocating, a slow poison. She’d feared one day she might break–step off a ledge, swallow a bottle of pills. Marrying Jordan had been her only escape.
“Grandma, you should visit soon,” Stella offered, pushing the thought away. “I’ll cook for you and Jordan.”
“I’d love that,” Eleanor said, her voice brightening.
At Hayes Group Headquarters, the moment Fiona and Anna left the office, Max turned to Andrew. “Dad, have you ever considered. that Anna might have been involved in Stella’s kidnapping?”
Andrew’s expression darkened. “What the hell are you saying? Anna is your sister. How could you even think that?”
Max frowned. “Just hear me out. Back then, our family was vulnerable. Why would someone kidnap us for ransom? Even though they did, why target only Stella and Anna?”
Max continued, “Besides, why did they only ask for the ransom for one girl? Why did they only take Stella? And why demand millions from us but sell Stella for pennies to Middle–South Yaria, some backwater hellhole? None of it adds up.”
“Don’t let Stella manipulate you,” Andrew snapped, his voice rising. “She’s bitter because life hasn’t been fair to her, and now she wants to drag Anna down with her.”
Andrew continued, “Yes, we’ve favored Anna–but it’s not her fault, Stella took everything from her in the womb. Anna’s always in pain, always suffering. Do you even care?”
He scoffed, “Besides, those kidnappers only took one girl because they were afraid we would call the cops. They took Stella to threaten us. Totally understandable.”
“That doesn’t explain the kidnapper’s actions,” Max pressed. “I didn’t suspect Anna until the birthday party. Stella was so sure–if she didn’t have proof, why would she accuse Anna in front of everyone?”
“What’s wrong with you? Did she knock your brains loose? You want me to beat you more?” Andrew hissed. “She’s just lashing out because she thinks we’ve loved Anna more. Didn’t you hear her? This is revenge, plain and simple. You said it yourself!”
Max clenched his jaw. Yes, Stella wanted payback–but her accusations carried weight. He’d always assumed fragile Anna needed protecting, but he’d spent more time with both sisters than their parents ever had. He’d seen things.
Now that he thought about it, revenge usually required a reason. After surviving hell, Stella should’ve been rebuilding her life. Yet she kept stirring the pot–and Max was starting to suspect she wasn’t the instigator.
“Dad, did you even look at Anna’s face during the confrontation?” Max pressed.
Andrew threw up his hands. “Jesus Christ, Max! Whose side are you on? You actually believe baby Anna–at eighteen, mind you- hired kidnappers to murder her own sister?”
The words hit Max like a bucket of ice water. Could Anna really be…?‘
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“Get out,” Andrew snarled. “I called you here to discuss the quarterly reports, not this bullshit. Don’t come back until you’ve gotten your head straight.”
As Max strode down the hallway, his father’s words echoed. If sweet, delicate Anna had orchestrated something so monstrous at eighteen… then her angelic smile hid the coldest heart he’d ever known.
Back at the Hayes residence, Max found Anna kneading Fiona’s shoulders in the sunroom, their mother sighing with pleasure. “Oh, darling, no one gives a massage like you.”
A memory flickered–Stella had always been the family’s little caretaker, doling out affection like currency for approval.
“Max!” Anna brightened when she noticed him. “You’re home. Want some water?” She sprang up, all eager smiles, and thrust a glass at him.
Max froze. For a terrifying second, Stella’s face superimposed over Anna’s. They were twins, after all, and looked almost identical.
He stood there, staring at Anna. Ever since Stella had left, Anna had been acting like this. It had been three years.
He hadn’t thought much of it. But now, for some reason, he couldn’t shake the feeling that… Anna was subconsciously copying everything Stella used to do.
“Max?” Anna tilted her head, the picture of innocence.
Fiona frowned. “Max, what’s gotten into you? Didn’t things go well with your dad?”
Max snapped back to reality, shaking his head. He looked at Anna again. Stella and Anna were completely different people. Stella was outgoing and energetic, while Anna was gentle and quiet. But at this moment, he couldn’t tell who he was really looking at.
“I’m good.” He pushed the glass away.
Anna’s smile faltered. Fiona’s eyes narrowed. “Did your dad yell at you or something?”
This wasn’t just about today. Since Stella’s birthday fiasco–since waking up in that hospital bed–something had shifted. At first, Max had fantasized about wringing Stella’s neck. But pain made for clarity.
Back in high school, whenever he’d wipe out on the court, Stella was always the first one at his side.
Anna would fuss, too, but Stella? She’d already be digging through the medicine cabinet, pressing a cold pack to his swollen ankle, her hands steady as she wrapped the bandage–no hesitation, no drama. Just action.
Max mused, ‘So how did that same girl go from carefully taping my sprains to whipping me without blinking?‘
At the party, he’d bitten his tongue, watching the train wreck unfold. When Stella cornered Anna, part of him had waited–hoped- for Anna to laugh it off, to prove this was all some messed–up misunderstanding. But he’d seen the way Anna’s hands shook.
That was the moment the dread hit him. Because he remembered something else: Stella got into Quentiham on full merit. Anna? Barely scraped into community college.
Their whole lives, the family had treated Anna like glass-“Let her have it, Stella. You’re stronger.” But now, staring at Anna’s trembling lower lip, a terrible thought clicked. ‘What if she didn’t just take cookies? What if she took three years of Stella’s life?‘
He followed Anna into the kitchen, leaning against the fridge as she rinsed strawberries. “Did you have anything to do with what
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happened to Stella?”
