33. Amara
Amara
The wind whips through my hair as Milly pushes her convertible faster along the coastal road.
Shopping bags rustle in the back seat from our latest afternoon spree. For the first time since waking up in that hospital bed, I feel something close to normal.
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.”
“How did she die?” Milly asks, her voice breaking slightly. “Was she in a car accident?”
“I can’t divulge that information yet.” The policewoman sits straighter. “But her next of kin have to identify her body, and as Mr. de Luca has just informed me, he is not her next of kin.” She looks at Milly and me. “Her daughters are.”
“I can do it,” Dom interjects, his voice unexpectedly gentle. “I don’t want Amara getting more traumatized than she already is.”
“I’m sorry, you can attend, but the identification needs to be by her next of kin.”
“Our sister Lia is the eldest,” Milly says, her fingers digging into my shoulder.
The uniformed officer stands up and takes a step forward, glancing between me, Milly, and Dom. Her pen poised over her notebook. “I need to ask a few questions as part of our investigation.”
I glance at Dom, who nods slightly. His expression remains neutral, but there is an unmistakable amount of tension in his jaw.
“Where were you between the hours of six a.m. yesterday and two a.m. this morning?” she asks Dom.
“I was at the gym from five a.m. until seven,” Dom begins, his voice steady.
“Then I came home and had a telephone conversation that lasted two hours. I took Amara to her physio appointment at ten o’clock.
We had lunch, and then I took her to a beautician where she had treatment to reduce her bruises.
Amara and I remained in the house for the rest of the day.
We watched a movie and had dinner before retiring to our rooms, which I am sure I can find you home footage to prove us being here. ”
I make eye contact with Dom. Most of that was true, but not all.
The uniformed officer makes notes and whispers in the plain-clothed officer’s ear.
“If you could get that footage to us,” Detective Ingram says, turning to me. “Before your physio session, what were you doing?”
“She wasn’t killed in a car accident,” Milly says suddenly, her hand reaching for my thigh and squeezing. “Oh my god. Was she murdered?” Milly turns to me, eyes wide with panic. “They tried to kill you, and then Mom, and next it’ll be me.”
“Miss,” the detective interjects firmly. “Let’s not assume anything.”
“I was home,” I tell her, my voice steady despite the turmoil inside me. “Studying. I’m trying to get my memory back, and that’s how I do it.”
“And how is that going?” she asks, her tone softening slightly.
“I’m still in the hoping and crossing my fingers stage.”
She smiles sympathetically before turning her attention to Milly.
“And you?”
“I don’t know,” Milly admits, sounding flustered. “I can’t remember what I did this morning, never mind yesterday. It’s the day I study at home, so I will have had a sleep-in and then a shower, breakfast, study, dinner...”
“I get the picture,” the officer says before advising that she’ll be back with more questions.
The officers gather their things and head towards the door, leaving an oppressive silence in their wake.
“Before you go,” Milly says. “Who found her dead?”
“I can’t tell you that.”
Milly shakes her head. “But she lives by herself. So if you’re saying she was killed.” She blows out a deep breath like it hurts her to say it. “I hope you’re investigating the person who found her.”
“Everyone is under investigation right now, Miss Bailey.”
“Good,” Milly says. Her hand stays on my thigh like an anchor, stopping me from drifting away.
I feel Dom’s eyes on me again, but don’t dare meet his gaze.
Tears lace my eyes, surprising me with their sudden appearance. Where before I felt nothing, now it feels like I’m going to sob for a woman I don’t remember loving.
“It’s okay, Amara. It’s a shock,” Caleb tells me, his voice gentle. “Let it out.”
I press my fingers against my eyelids, feeling the wetness there. My body shakes with the force of holding back the flood.
Milly stands up abruptly, her face strangely composed. No tears, no trembling lips—just a blank expression that doesn’t match the moment at all.
“Come on,” she says, tugging at my arm. “Let’s get some air.”
Dom and Caleb exchange a look as Milly pulls me toward the terrace doors. The ocean breeze hits my face as we step outside, and I inhale the scent of salt, chlorine, and freedom.
“She’s dead,” I whisper, studying my sister’s face.
Milly shrugs, leaning against the railing. “She is.”
Without thinking, I kick off my shoes and walk toward the pool. The water calls to me—blue and inviting, promising to wash away everything. I dive in fully clothed, the cool water embracing me like an old friend. As I sink beneath the surface, I hear muffled shouts from above.
“Amara!” Dom’s panicked voice penetrates the water. “She probably forgot how to swim!” he yells to someone.
I almost laugh underwater. Some things the body doesn’t forget.
I push deeper, feeling weightless, suspended in blue silence.
Then there’s a splash above me, followed by strong arms wrapping around my waist and I’m pulled upward.
Dom’s grip is firm yet gentle as we break the surface together, and when we do, he’s looking at me with such fear in his eyes that my heart constricts at how much he worries about me.
“What were you thinking?” he gasps, still holding me close as he swims us to the edge.
Water drips from his long, dark eyelashes, his hair slicked back from his forehead. Even frightened, he’s beautiful.
“I remember how to swim,” I say softly. A small laugh escapes from my lips.
He presses his forehead against mine, our breath mingling. “You scared me, piccola.”
The endearment triggers a flash of memory, his voice in the darkness whispering that same word.
“I’ll make this better for you,” he murmurs, his arms tightening around me. “Whatever happens, I’ll protect you. I promise.”
His lips brush my temple, then my cheek, leaving trails of warmth against my wet skin.
“Trust me,” he whispers before he hands me to Caleb, who holds me too.