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Vivienne

Lucan hasn’t called her yet. She has called multiple times and he hasn’t answered. She has left countless messages but he wouldn’t reply. This means he isn’t back to his body. It’s still the version she sat through a five-hour flight to the United States with.

For a second, when she had received that necklace, she thought he was back. Only him would have been that thoughtful. Clearly, it isn’t him. And she misses him. But he is yet again, hiding behind the shadow of the monstrous version of him. And she doesn’t know why.

This got her curious.

At what point do they switch characters? What is the trigger behind it when the humane version of him retreats into the dark and leaves the world as a playground for this callous, venomous thing?

For the past few hours, she has read almost every article and report ever written concerning multiple personality disorders. She finds that some people were born with it, and some develop it after a traumatic experience. She has no idea which line his case falls into.

She wants to know how he got it. Was he born like that? Did life carve that into him? Or is this more or less a spiritual problem and indeed, his dead twin brother likes to possess his body?

She doesn’t think she can ask him. Because she doesn’t know how that will play out. Imagine telling someone they are not mentally stable. That could really go bad in so many ways.

Whatever it is, she knows that he needs love, support, and understanding. And she really hopes she can be someone who is capable of giving him that.

Her phone vibrates, startling her out of her thoughts.

Kenji.

“Hey, sup?”

And as much as she’s delighted to catch up with her best friend who left roughly three hours ago, he is just not the person she wants to speak to right now.

“You sound like you’re forcing yourself to be excited to hear from me,” he notes, and a shuffling of objects echoes from the background.

She scoffs, rolling her eyes.

“What’s up with you?” His voice is calm, mellow. “He hasn’t reached out to you yet, I guess?”

Her brows furrow. He is the last person she expected to bring up Lucan. Didn’t he spend how many minutes giving her reasons why Lucan was a big no-no?

“No, he hasn’t.”

“Want me to go to the hotel or whatever and go check up on him?” he asks and Vivienne’s brows furrow. “Maybe drag him by the collar to you?”

She chuckles weakly, and the lack of glee in the laugh makes her internally wince.

“That won’t be necessary,” she tells him. “I doubt he is even in the country. His plan was to drop me off and fly back because he’s got stuff to do back in Russia.”

“Oh.” There’s a pause. “So what are you doing at the moment?”

Vivienne glances around her room. “The house is messy. My room, for a starter, smells kinda damp. I’m going to do some cleaning.

” She sits up, reaching for the power of her desktop to turn it off.

The homepage of a medical site is still glowing on the screen, evidence of how long she has been researching BP and Multiple Personality Disorder.

“Do you want me to come over and help out?” He offers. And she knows if she says yes, he will be at her doorstep in seconds.

“Don’t worry.” She stretches, pressing a fist into her lower back to ease the stiffness from sitting in that position for too long.

Her stomach suddenly grumbles, a sharp reminder that she hasn’t eaten more than biscuits and tea today.

“Are you sure?” Kenji asks, just as she stands and exits her room.

“Yeah.” She heads down the hall toward the exit to the garage. “What about you? What are you doing?”

“Painting Mrs. Sato’s nails,” he says and Vivienne hears his mom giggle in the background.

Vivienne chuckles. “Well, let me leave you to it, then.” She hangs up, slipping her phone into the back pocket of her jean shorts.

She pushes open the door to the garage, stepping into the dimly lit space. But something feels off. The garage is way too spacious.

Her eyes scan the room, searching for the missing puzzle exactly.

And then it hits her.

Isadora’s Ford Fusion is gone.

Her breath catches immediately, her heart hammering. How did this happen? How does she begin to explain this?

She scans the room again, eyes searching odd corners that would normally not fit a safety pin let alone a fucking car.

Was there a burglary? Did someone break in and steal the car?

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.” Her trembling hand fumbles for her phone. She quickly swipes the screen, her free hand diving into her fiery hair, tugging as she dials up Kenji’s number.

“I’m so dead, Kenji.” Her voice shakes as she paces back into the living room. “Isadora’s car is gone.”

“Gone?” he asks. “What do you mean, gone? Gone how?”

“She didn’t travel with her car, Kenji.” She scrubs a hand through her face furiously. “She left the car at home. I just went to grab cleaning supplies from the store but the car isn’t there. She’ll kill me, Kenji. She’ll kill me.”

“Okay, calm down…” His words blur as the distant sound of a car rumbles up their driveway.

Vivienne freezes, heart pounding. She dashes to the kitchen window, finger gripping the frame. Her breath catches at the sight of Isadora’s Ford Fusion pulling into the garage. And behind the wheels is none other than the sea witch, Isadora Rivera.

Vivienne staggers back, throat dry.

“Vee?”

“-She’s…she’s back?” She asks for confirmation from Kenji even though she is the one staring across as the car pulls into the garage. “But she said she was going away for a week.”

“What?” Kenji’s confusion cackles through the phone.

“I’ll call you back.” She ends the call just as the car’s engine dies in the garage. She sets the phone on the kitchen counter, wiping her sweaty palms on her shorts.

A moment later, the door creaks open as the sharp echo of Isadora’s heels clicks against the floor, slicing through the quiet house.

Vivienne steps into the living room, schooling her expression.

Isadora is a criminal profiler, but Vivienne plans to play it cool and not get caught in her net. If she couldn’t profile her dad, she doubts she can profile her right now.

Isadora arrives in the living room, pulling off her dark sunglasses. She scans the room slowly and deliberately until her dark brown eyes fall on Vivienne.

A chill runs through Vivienne. But she holds Isadora’s gaze, knowing full well that avoiding eye contact is a dead giveaway.

The silence in the room stretches until Isadora exhales a soft, mocking chuckle. Then fixing her sunglasses on, she turns and walks away.

No words. No confrontation. Just an eerie, suffocating air of knowing.

Vivienne watches her disappear down the hall and into her room, unease uncurling in her stomach.

Isadora knows something. But what?

For the next two hours, Vivienne scrubs every inch of the house—except for Isadora’s room—waiting for Isadora to reemerge. But she never did.

Now at 10. p.m, she is on the phone with Kenji while setting up her workstation.

She spent every penny on that trip to Russia. If the universe is kind, just maybe she will encounter more people trying to commission a character art. Because right now, she needs the money. And a distraction.

“So…” Kenji says into the phone pressed against her ear. “Did anything happen? Did Isadora—”

“No,” she says as she doodles away on her tablet. “She just walked in, looked at me, and walked away. She hasn’t stepped out of her room ever since.”

“But does it look like something is off?” His voice is layered with worry.

“Yeah, definitely.” She pauses to analyze the quick sketch she just made. “But she hasn’t confronted me so…”

“Do you think she came back earlier today or last night?”

“I think it’s last night,” she says, remembering seeing fish casserole in the refrigerator and there was no fish casserole in the house before. She couldn’t have made that today.

“Wow.” His tone drifts off. “I don’t feel good about this.”

“I’m sure it’s gonna be fine.” Her attention is focused on the man staring back at her on her tablet. And her heart aches because she remembers how much she misses him all over again.

“Are you positive?”

“Mhmm.”

“If anything happens—”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll let you know.”

“What about your boyfriend?” he asks. He seems to be taking an interest in Lucan all of a sudden. And Vivienne doesn’t know how she feels about it anymore. It’s as if he’s asking just to prove a point.

“Has he called you yet?”

“Nope.”

“Fuck him.”

She chuckles. Yes, fuck you, Lucan Raskovic.

“I think I’m ready to sleep.” She yawns, then proceeds to add finishing touches to the eyebrow of the man in the image.

“Talk to you tomorrow?”

“Yeah, sure. Good night.”

“Goodnight.”

The call comes to an end. Vivienne places the phone beside her on the desk and continues her sketching. But her door suddenly swings open, revealing Isadora, cheeks slightly flushed but she doesn’t look dead drunk yet.

“Is there a problem?” she asks, placing her stylus on the tablet.

“Do you need anything?” This time, she has to stand up for the situation.

“Yeah,” she draws out, a devious smile lifting the corner of her lips as she shuts the door behind her, taking slow and slightly predatory steps further into the room.

“What?” Vivienne backs away on reflex.

“You know, I was wondering how my step-daughter got caught in a CCTV camera in an airport all the way in Russia.” She pulls a hand from behind her back to show the screen of her phone.

“I mean, as far as I’m concerned, I left her to take care of the house in Pennsylvania.

So you can imagine my shock when she was caught on camera in Moscow, Russia.

And then I started wondering.” She takes casual yet taunting steps further into the room.

“Could she have a twin? Am I just tripping?”

“Th-that’s…”