Chapter 2: Ghosts in the Family Portrait

Rainwater dripped from her hair, pooling around her bare feet on the welcome mat. She wore the same white dress as in the photo, now clinging to her frame, nearly see-through. She looked up at Mason, her lips trembling.

She wore the same white dress as in the photo, pitifully tilting her head up at Mason.

Her eyes were huge and glassy, and for a moment, she looked like a ghost from another life. She looked like a ghost.

“The doctor said I could go home, but I waited all night and nobody came to pick me up.”

Her voice was so small, I almost missed it over the rain. She clutched Mason’s sleeve, her knuckles white, her whole body shivering.

She threw herself into Mason’s arms, her voice so fragile it made you want to protect her:

“Big brother, I’m so scared.”

Her words hung in the air, making my skin prickle. The way she said "big brother"—it sounded practiced, but there was something off, something desperate in it.

Harper Sloan followed Mason inside, clinging to his hand as if no one else was there.

She didn’t even look at me, her focus entirely on Mason. For a second, I wondered if I was invisible.

Only then did Mason seem to remember I was still standing there.

He quickly pried Harper’s hand off and forced a smile at me:

“Sierra, I’m sorry.”

He looked genuinely flustered, cheeks flushed, and I could see the guilt written all over his face.

“I haven’t seen Harper in so long, I got a little carried away.”

He tried to laugh it off, but his voice cracked a little. I could feel the awkwardness settle between us like a heavy blanket.

I pressed my lips together, smiled again, dimples showing. My fingers tightened around the strap of my purse. For a moment, I wondered if I was the only one who noticed the tension.

As I walked past Harper, she suddenly grabbed me.

Her grip was surprisingly strong, her nails digging into my wrist. She rolled her eyes and smiled at me oddly: “Are you Mason’s girlfriend?”

Her voice was sweet, but there was an edge to it, like she was testing me.

I nodded.

I kept my expression neutral, refusing to give her the reaction she seemed to want.

“But you look different from the last girl.”

Harper traced her face with slender fingers: “She didn’t have dimples.” The words hung there, sharp. For a beat, nobody spoke.

Her words sent a chill down my spine. I glanced at Mason, searching his face for any sign of recognition or guilt.

I don’t know if I imagined it, but I felt Mason’s hand tremble slightly in mine.

He squeezed my hand a little too tightly, as if trying to reassure himself as much as me. His eyes darted between me and Harper, and for a second, he looked almost afraid.

He glanced at me, then quickly smiled again: “Harper, you’re making things up again.”

He tried to sound casual. He failed. “My last girlfriend’s been missing for two years.”

Harper blinked.

Her expression shifted, her gaze growing distant. Then, right in front of me, she collapsed into my boyfriend’s arms.

It happened so fast—one second she was standing, the next she was a heap in Mason’s arms. He caught her awkwardly, almost dropping her.

I instinctively reached out to help her, but she shook off my hand: “Don’t touch me!”

Her voice was sharp, panicked. She curled up in Mason’s arms like a wounded kitten, looking fragile: “Big brother, can you carry me upstairs?”

Mason hesitated, as if wanting to say something.

He looked at me, his eyes pleading, but I just shook my head. I didn’t want to make a scene.

I looked away and said, “It’s okay.”

“Harper isn’t well. You should take her back to her room.”

I left with an umbrella, stepping into the pouring rain. The sky opened up, and the downpour felt almost like a baptism. My chest ached. I kept walking, feeling the weight of everything settle on my shoulders.

The cold rain hit my face, soaking through my jacket in seconds. Mason’s house is a three-story standalone home, in a pretty remote neighborhood, and at this hour, there wasn’t a sound from anyone nearby.

My footsteps echoed on the wet pavement as I hurried down the driveway, the streetlamp casting long, lonely shadows. By the glow of the streetlamp, I opened the note Harper had slipped into my palm earlier.

There were only two words—

“Run. Now.”

The handwriting was messy and blurred, with faint water stains, probably from the rain.

I stared at the words for a long moment, my breath fogging in the chilly air. Something about them felt urgent, desperate.

Before I left Mason’s house, I deliberately glanced back at Harper.

At that moment, she was leaning in Mason’s arms.