The storm outside mirrored the chaos inside Aurora's heart. Thunder rolled like the tremble in her chest as she stared at the silver pendant in her palm. It was warm, almost unnaturally so, as if it carried the heat of someone's soul. Her fingers trembled slightly as she ran her thumb across the etched initials: L.W.
Liam Wakefield.
The pendant had fallen from his jacket when he tossed it over her shoulders the night before, trying to protect her from the downpour. She hadn't noticed it then—too wrapped up in the moment, in the proximity of his body, the softness of his voice whispering that she wasn't alone.
Now, in the morning light, it looked… old. Antique. And familiar.
Aurora sat on the edge of the bed, the pendant dangling from the broken chain between her fingers. Something about it sent a chill up her spine, like a memory long buried trying to claw its way back to the surface.
She didn't hear the knock at the door, only the creak of it opening. Liam's voice startled her.
"Aurora?"
She spun around, fingers instinctively curling over the pendant. "You scared me."
Liam stood in the doorway, damp from the drizzle outside. His expression was unreadable as he stepped in, his eyes flickering to her hand.
"You found it," he said softly.
"This was yours?" she asked, voice tighter than she meant it to be.
He nodded slowly. "It belonged to my mother. She gave it to me when I was thirteen—said it would protect me."
Aurora swallowed hard. "Your mother's initials?"
He smiled faintly. "Lena Wakefield."
A strange silence stretched between them. Aurora looked down at the pendant again. "I've seen this before," she murmured.
His brow furrowed. "Where?"
Her heart thudded. "I'm not sure. But it's… familiar."
Liam took a slow step forward. "Maybe it's a coincidence."
She wanted to believe him. God, she wanted to. But her instincts screamed otherwise.
"I was adopted," she said suddenly, lifting her eyes to meet his. "When I was five. I don't remember much from before… just flashes. A woman's voice, someone singing, and a pendant—this pendant."
Liam went still.
Aurora rose from the bed, the pendant still cradled in her hand. "Do you think…? Is it possible our families knew each other?"
His lips parted, but no words came out. There was something in his eyes—a flicker of fear, or was it recognition?
"Aurora, there's something I need to tell you."
Her heart clenched. "Then tell me."
But he hesitated. And that hesitation said more than any words could.
"I… I don't know how to explain it. Not yet," he admitted, stepping back. "But I promise I'll find the answers. You deserve the truth."
She clenched her jaw. "So do you. Whatever this is, Liam, it's not just about me."
He didn't deny it.
After he left, Aurora couldn't shake the feeling that she was standing on the edge of something massive—something dark and tangled and ancient. Something that might change everything she thought she knew.
Later That Day
Aurora couldn't focus on work. Her mind kept looping back to the pendant, to the way Liam had looked at it, to the storm brewing in his eyes.
Desperate for clarity, she took it upon herself to dig deeper.
She visited the small town library, tucked between an antique shop and a closed-down café, where the elderly librarian greeted her with a knowing smile.
"I'm looking for information on the Wakefield family," Aurora said, placing the pendant on the counter.
The woman's smile faded the moment her eyes landed on the pendant.
"Where did you get that?" she whispered.
"It belonged to Liam Wakefield's mother. Do you recognize it?"
The librarian looked around before beckoning Aurora to follow her into the archives section, the smell of dust and aged paper enveloping them.
She pulled out a thick binder labeled Wakefield Lineage, opening it with trembling fingers.
"Lena Wakefield disappeared twenty-one years ago. Some say she ran off. Others… think she was silenced."
Aurora's breath caught. "Silenced?"
The librarian nodded grimly. "The Wakefields have enemies. Land disputes, old family feuds. It's an ugly history, child. And that pendant…" She tapped it gently. "Was said to be cursed. Passed down for generations, and each bearer… met tragedy."
Aurora's blood ran cold.
"She gave it to Liam when he was thirteen?"
The woman nodded. "Poor boy. His mother vanished weeks later. Police found nothing."
Aurora stared at the pendant in her palm. It was heavier now—burdened with stories it refused to share.
"What about the Whitmores?" she asked suddenly.
The librarian blinked. "That's a name I haven't heard in decades. Why?"
"That was my birth name. Aurora Whitmore."
Silence settled thick and uneasy between them.
Then the woman slowly closed the binder and whispered, "Then you may be in more danger than you think."
Meanwhile, at the Wakefield Estate
Liam stood in front of the family portrait room, the walls lined with paintings of stern-faced ancestors. He stared at the one of his mother, Lena, her eyes eerily like Aurora's.
He hadn't lied to Aurora. But he hadn't told her the whole truth either.
There was a reason the pendant reacted to her.
And a reason he'd kept it all these years.
Because deep in the family vaults—locked behind iron doors and guarded by secrets—there was a diary. His mother's final entry in it had been a warning.
"Protect her, Liam. No matter the cost."
He hadn't known what it meant back then.
But now?
Now, he feared he did.
And he was running out of time.