“Where are the other women invited?
“I don’t know.”
“What are their names?”
“I don’t know. I don’t have that information.”
“Yet you knew my name. You knew who I was from the moment I walked in there.”
“Of course I did. You’re under my care.”
“Whose care are the other women under?”
“They never showed, so technically, no one.”
“You don’t think it’s weird that this chancellor or whatever, his highness, person, hasn’t given you the names of the other women so you guys could go look for them?”
“We have to initiate you, then maybe they’ll give us the other names.”
“Doctor . . . ” I started over. “Was my father a Sword?”
Adam shook his head. “From what I heard, he wanted to be, but the society didn’t approve. Things were different back then.”
“Different how?”
“Different. Not everyone was accepted everywhere.”
“They didn’t let him in because he’s black?” My brows rose.
“I don’t know.” Adam frowned as he mulled that over. “God, I hope that wasn’t the reason.”
“So you don’t know the reason?”
“I don’t, but I know enough to know that if they’re inviting his daughter it’s because they regret turning him away.”
“Maybe.” I looked at the time on my phone. I still had a few hours before Dr. Thompson’s driver would pick me up, but during that time, I wanted to do some digging in Stella’s apartment. “I have to go.”
“Did you really not call the cops last night?”
“I really didn’t.” I looked up at him and shook my head.
“Who else knows you were there?”
“No one.”
No one knew aside from Detective Barry and Dr. Thompson, yet someone had supposedly called from the premises to say she was in danger and her name was Stella. If that was the case, was she there? Were they hiding her? The memory of the naked woman on the rock flashed through my mind. Would she be next?
I looked at Adam. “I have to go. I’ll see you later.”
I reached into my back pocket and unlocked the door to her apartment, walking in quickly before shutting it behind me. I’d tried to be as quiet as a mouse when walking the hall to not alert any neighbors by my presence. Just because Dr. Thompson said Stella didn’t have any friends, didn’t mean it was true. He obviously didn’t know about her and Cameron. I wondered if he knew about that side of her life at all. I switched the light on and let the backpack slide down my right arm before setting it down on the floor by the kitchen counter.
The place was immaculate. It even smelled like the lavender Fabuloso I used on my floors often. It didn’t look like anyone lived here at all—with the pristine pillows on the living room couch and the squeaky clean full-length mirror placed at an incline by the entrance table. I stood there for a moment and gave myself a once-over. I was wearing skinny jeans, a frilly white blouse, and white wedges to match. My hair was glossy from being freshly straightened this morning and my olive skin was glowing from the body mousse I’d taken from The Manor. Was this what Stella saw when she looked in the mirror every day before she left the apartment? A shiver ran through me as I looked at the girl who was me but didn’t feel quite like myself. I blinked away from my reflection and continued my assessment of the place, stepping into the bedroom, where a queen-size bed with a white, fluffy comforter and oversized, white pillows sat untouched by wrinkles.
I walked up to the bed and sat down, then lay on my side and inhaled. It smelled like my body soap. Olay Deep Conditioning. My eyes popped open. We use the same soap? I hopped out of bed and walked into her bathroom. It was all white—white cabinets, white tile, white grout. The shower was glass and looked like it had never been used. I picked up her toothbrush and swiped the bristles. It was dry. The toothpaste was the only thing that gave any indication that someone lived here at all, with the end rolled up to squeeze out whatever bit it had left.
I set out to look for clues as to who Stella Thompson was and found very little to go on. She was girly, liked to dress in cute summer dresses, and had bright coats for the winter. She liked designer heels and sneakers. I felt like I already knew those things based on the suitcase Dr. Thompson had given me. Stella had a collection of handbags on the top rack of her closet, all in dusters, from designers I’d never dreamed of even looking at. From the back of the closet, I took out high school yearbooks and journals that had been scribbled on from beginning to end. She was voted Most Likely to Succeed, Kindest Smile, and Most Athletic. The dedications from high school friends were all generic—stay in touch and I’ll miss you, but nothing that screamed intimacy. I wondered why she brought them with her. That seemed odd to me. Looking at the time, I realized I needed to get a move on if I was going to make it back to my apartment in time for the driver.
When I got back to my place, I took a Valium. Dr. Maslow would not approve. She was always completely against taking it right before I met with her because she wanted to assess the situation fully, but I was the one who had to meet with Stella’s therapist and pretend I was someone else.
With a refreshed mind and looser limbs, I grabbed my things and walked outside to meet the driver.
Chapter Ten
“Hey.”
“Hey.” I was shocked to find the driver was a woman.
A young woman. She wore a suit and tie, her straight brown hair pulled back into a high ponytail. There was little makeup on her pretty face and I wondered if she preferred it that way or if she was trying to blend in with the men who had her job. She opened the back door of the black town car and waited until I was seated before closing it and getting into the driver’s seat. I pulled my phone out and texted Aisha. I couldn’t handle this anymore.
Me: I know you’re mad at me but we really need to talk
I waited, watching for three little dots to appear on the screen. They didn’t. What the hell had I done to her? I closed my eyes and pressed my head to the headrest as I rummaged through recent memories, but came up blank. It was interesting that I could remember high school and Karen, but nothing recent. I thought about Ellis and remembered my first day of school there, how walking up to the first few buildings felt like the most daunting thing in the world. Aisha’s parents were with us for orientation. Karen was too drunk to get out of bed that morning. I remembered the animosity I felt toward her and how I’d taken it out on Aisha when she told me she chose a stranger as a roommate over me. My eyes popped open. I was so mean to her that day. She’d accused me of lacking empathy. I’d said empathy was for kids who had grown up in perfect homes. It was a lie and a low blow, two things I was skilled at, and it happened two years ago, and even though we’d spoken since, things definitely hadn’t been the same for a while.
“Have you decided?” the driver asked.
“Decided what?” Our eyes met through the rearview.
“Whether or not you’re going to tell Dr. Maslow that you think you found your twin.”