Chapter 158
Chapter 158:
Once. Twice.
They opened.
Her eyes were cloudy, confused, but alive.
Matriarch Kensington’s vision was a kaleidoscope of blurry lights and shadows. Pain throbbed at the base of her skull, but it was a distant drum, fading.
She saw a silhouette standing in the light. A young woman. Dark hair. A posture that defied gravity.
A memory, nineteen years old, surfaced from the depths of trauma. A fire. A screaming child. A face.
Aurora stepped forward to check the needles.
The Matriarch’s hand, thin and claw-like, shot out. She grabbed Aurora’s wrist with a strength that shouldn’t have been possible for a woman on death’s door.
“Aurora…” the old woman rasped. Her voice was like dry leaves scraping together.
Aurora froze. “Yes. I am Aurora Vance. The specialist p>
“No,” the Matriarch wept, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes. “Those eyes… My son’s eyes. You have Edward’s eyes p>
Dr. Shaw rushed in. “She’s delirious. It’s the trauma p>
The glass doors burst open. The family flooded in. Edward, Catherine, Atticus. Even Vivian, looking pale and terrified.
Edward rushed to the bedside, falling to his knees. “Mother? Mother, can you hear me p>
The Matriarch ignored her son. She stared only at Aurora. Her grip on Aurora’s wrist tightened.
“You came back,” she sobbed. “I knew. I knew you weren’t dead p>
Vivian stood at the door. She looked at the scene. She realized with a sick, sinking feeling that the old woman wasn’t delirious. She was recognizing the blood.
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Aurora tried to gently pry the fingers loose. “Ma’am, you’re confused. Please, you need to rest p>
“Look at her, Edward!” the Matriarch commanded, her voice gaining strength. “Look at her face p>
Edward looked up at Aurora. He was crying freely now. The resemblance was painful. It was like looking at a ghost.
“Mother,” Edward said gently, “this is Dr. Vance. She saved you p>
“She has the blood,” the Matriarch insisted. She pointed a shaking finger at Aurora’s face. “The Kensington Green. The flecks of gold. I would know them anywhere p>
Aurora instinctively clamped her right hand over her left wrist, hiding the pulse point as if hiding a secret. It was a defensive reflex. A mistake.
The room went deathly silent. The air was sucked out of the space.
Atticus looked at Aurora’s hand clutching her arm. He looked at her eyes.
“Do you?” Atticus asked quietly.
Aurora felt trapped. The walls were closing in. If she revealed it now… her life as Aurora Vance was over. The Kensingtons would swallow her whole. The politics, the danger, the scrutiny. She had just escaped the Thorne drama; she couldn’t step into a Dynasty war.
She lied.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said. Her voice was steady, cold. “I am a Vance. My family is from the Bronx p>