Unraveling The Past

Stephanie POV

The air in the gallery felt thick, like time had stopped. I watched Liam’s face as Amelia spoke, his confusion twisting into something deeper. The word seemed to hit him like a punch. His eyes so much like William’s—darted between Ethan and me, searching for answers we barely had ourselves.

Amelia’s voice trembled as she told the story. William Thompson, the man I’d known as my cold, driven grandfather, had once been someone else. A man in love. A man who left. Hearing Amelia describe their life together—the small coastal town, the art, the promises—felt like uncovering a secret world. When she mentioned Liam, my chest tightened. Ethan stood stiffly beside me, his face blank, but I could see the storm in his eyes.

Liam finally turned to Ethan. “So, you’re my… brother?”

Ethan nodded, his jaw clenched. The silence between them was heavy, charged with years of unanswered questions. I stepped forward, holding out William’s letter. “This might help,” I said gently.

Liam took the envelope, his fingers brushing mine. For a second, I felt a sparka connection neither of us expected. He read the letter slowly, his face shifting from anger to sadness. When he finished, he looked up, his voice raw. “He regretted it. But he still left.”

Amelia touched his arm. “Some choices haunt people forever.”

Ethan stayed quiet, staring at a painting on the wall a stormy sea under a dark sky. I wondered if he saw himself in those waves, tossed by secrets he never asked for.

“What now?” I asked, breaking the silence.

Liam ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know. This is… a lot.”

Amelia smiled softly. “We’ll figure it out. Together.”

Together.The word felt fragile but hopeful.

A week later, we stood in front of a rustic cabin in the Vermont mountains. Pine trees towered around us, their scent sharp in the crisp air. William’s “sanctuary” looked nothing like the sleek offices of Fiore Enterprises. Smoke curled from the chimney, and the wooden porch creaked under our feet.

Liam bounded ahead, laughing as he pushed open the door. “This place is awesome!”

Amelia followed, her eyes warm. “William always loved the quiet.”

Ethan lingered beside me, his gaze fixed on the cabin. “Why here?” he muttered.

“Maybe he wanted to escape,” I said. “To be someone else.”

Inside, the cabin felt like a time capsule. Faded quilts draped over leather chairs, shelves crammed with old books, and a guitar collecting dust in the corner. Sunlight streamed through the windows, lighting up specks of dust like tiny stars.

Liam flopped onto a couch. “This is way better than a stuffy office.”

Ethan picked up a book from the shelf—a worn copy of Moby Dick. “He never mentioned liking classics.”

“People hide parts of themselves,” Amelia said quietly.

In the basement, we found an art studio. Half-finished canvases leaned against the walls, tubes of paint dried and cracked. My throat tightened. William, the tech titan, had painted? Liam grabbed a brush, dipping it into an old jar of water. “Guess creativity runs in the family,” he joked, but his voice shook.

Ethan found a journal on a dusty desk. He flipped through the pages, his frown deepening. “Stephanie,” he said suddenly, “look at this.”

The journal entries were filled with William’s cramped handwriting. “Father says business is the only path… but the colors won’t leave my mind.” I traced the words, imagining a young William torn between duty and dreams.

Liam peered over my shoulder. “He wanted to be an artist?”

Amelia sighed. “He had talent. But his family… they demanded more.”

That night, we gathered around the fireplace. Liam strummed the guitar badly, making Amelia laugh. Ethan sat in a corner, still reading the journal. I nudged him. “Find anything interesting?”

He hesitated. “There’s a name. Isabella.”

The fire crackled. “Who’s that?”

“I don’t know. But he wrote about her… a lot.”

Days blurred into hikes through the mountains and lazy afternoons by the lake. Liam taught me to skip stones, his easy smile hiding the hurt I knew he felt. Ethan slowly thawed, joining us for meals and even laughing at Liam’s terrible jokes.

One evening, I found Ethan in the basement, staring at a canvas. “Did you paint this?” I asked.

He shook his head. “Liam did.”

The painting was wild—swirls of blue and green that looked like a stormy ocean. “It’s good,” I said.

Ethan’s voice was quiet. “He’s like William. Hiding talent under jokes.”

I touched his arm. “You’re not like William.”

He looked at me, his eyes unguarded for once. “Aren’t I? Chasing a company instead of…” He trailed off.

“Instead of what?”

Before he could answer, Liam burst in. “Guys! You gotta see the attic!”

The attic was cramped, filled with old trunks and cobwebs. Liam shoved open a dusty lid, pulling out a stack of paintings. “Look at these!”

The first painting took my breath away—a dragon soaring over a castle, its scales glittering like emeralds. The next showed elves dancing in a moonlit forest. Each was signed in bold letters: Isabella Fiore.

My heart raced. “Who is she?”

Amelia’s face paled. “William’s sister. She… disappeared years ago.”

Ethan grabbed a painting of a griffin, his hands trembling. “Disappeared? Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

Amelia sat on a trunk, her voice weary. “The Fiores buried their secrets deep. Isabella was different. Wild. She painted these… fantasies. William loved her, but their parents called it madness. One night, she left. Never came back.”

Liam held up a portrait a young woman with fiery hair and William’s piercing eyes. “Is this her?”

Amelia nodded. “She was brilliant. But the world wasn’t kind to women who dreamed.”

The attic felt colder suddenly. I wrapped my arms around myself. “Why did William keep these?”

“Guilt,” Ethan said bitterly. “He let her disappear.”

That night, I couldn’t sleep. The cabin creaked around me, shadows dancing on the walls. I slipped outside, sitting on the porch steps. The mountains loomed black against the starry sky.

The door opened behind me. Ethan sat down, his shoulder brushing mine. “Can’t sleep either?”

I shook my head. “It’s like every answer leads to more questions.”

He stared at the woods. “I used to think William was just… cold. Now I see the cracks.”

“We all have cracks,” I said softly.

He turned to me, his face lit by moonlight. “What if we’re just repeating his mistakes? This marriage… the company… it’s all a game.”

My chest ached. “It doesn’t have to be.”

His hand found mine, calloused and warm. “Stephanie, I…”

A branch snapped in the woods. We jerked apart as Liam stumbled onto the porch, breathless. “There’s something out there!”

Ethan stood, squinting into the dark. “Probably a deer.”

“No way! It was huge! Like… unnatural.”

I laughed nervously. “Liam, you’ve been reading too many fantasy books.”

But as we went inside, I glanced back at the trees. For a second, I swore I saw glowing eyes in the shadows.

The next morning, we searched the woods. Fallen leaves crunched under our boots, and the air smelled of pine and damp earth. Liam led us to a clearing, pointing at the ground. “Look!”

Deep grooves marked the soil—like giant claw marks. Ethan crouched, frowning. “Bear?”

“Bears don’t have claws this big,” Liam argued.

Amelia shivered. “Let’s go back. This place feels… strange.”

As we turned to leave, I spotted something in the bushes—a scrap of fabric, shimmering like scales. I pocketed it, my heart pounding.

Back at the cabin, Ethan pulled me aside. “What’s wrong?”

I showed him the fabric. “This was in the woods. It’s… not normal.”

He rubbed the material between his fingers. “It’s like something from Isabella’s paintings.”

Liam peeked over my shoulder. “Whoa. Dragon skin?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Ethan snapped, but his voice lacked conviction.

That night, we gathered Isabella’s paintings, spreading them across the floor. Dragons, griffins, creatures I’d never seen outside myths. Amelia traced a painting of a forest. “She said they were real. We thought it was her imagination.”

“What if it wasn’t?” Liam whispered.

Ethan stood abruptly. “This is crazy. We’re talking about fairy tales.”

But his eyes stayed locked on the fabric in my hand.

The next day, I found Ethan in the art studio. He was painting rough strokes of black and gold. “Since when do you paint?” I asked.

He stepped back, revealing a dark figure with wings. “I don’t. It just… came out.”

The painting felt alive, dangerous. “Ethan, maybe we should leave. This place… it’s changing us.”

He set down the brush. “And go where? Back to pretending?”

I grabbed his hand. “We don’t have to pretend. Not here.”

His fingers tightened around mine. “Stephanie, I…”

A roar shattered the silence.

We ran outside, where Liam stood frozen, pointing at the sky. “What is that?!”

A shadow blotted out the sun—enormous wings, scales glinting like fire. It circled once, then vanished into the clouds.

Amelia clutched my arm. “Isabella’s stories… they’re real.”

Ethan stared at the sky, his face pale. “William knew. That’s why he bought this place.”

The world tilted. Magic. Monsters. A secret buried in the Fiore bloodline. Liam grinned wildly. “This is awesome!”

But dread coiled in my stomach. If Isabella’s paintings were real, what else was out there? And why had William led us here?

As the sun set, we packed the paintings, the fabric, and William’s journals. The cabin no longer felt like a sanctuary—it was a gateway to something bigger, darker.

Ethan zipped his bag, his voice grim. “We need answers. Real answers.”

I nodded, tucking Isabella’s portrait into my journal. Her eyes seemed to follow me, full of secrets and warnings.

The drive back was quiet, the mountains fading in the rearview mirror. Liam slept in the backseat, Amelia humming softly beside him. Ethan gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles white.

“What happens now?” I asked.

He glanced at me. “We found the truth. No more lies.”

I leaned my head against the window, watching the stars appear. The Fiore legacy wasn’t just a company it was a tangled web of love, loss, and magic. And somehow, Ethan and I were at the center of it.

As the city lights glowed ahead, I reached for his hand. Whatever came next, we’d face it together.