Chapter Seventy Eight

Chapter 78

The house was quieter than usual, a heavy silence blanketing the Valerian estate. Jemima sat in her study, her hands curled around a cup of cooling tea. The recent events had her mind spinning—Ava's rescue, Alan's ever-tightening grip on their lives, and the gnawing feeling that something deeper was amiss.

She stared at the note she'd found in the garden. "Tick tock, Valerians. Time is running out." The handwriting taunted her, familiar in a way she couldn't place.

Jay entered the room quietly, his expression uncharacteristically tense. She looked up, surprised by his sudden presence.

"You're up early," she said, setting her cup down.

"I couldn't sleep," Jay admitted, sitting across from her.

“Are you alright babe, you look unusually pale. If it is because of the Alan incident, you don’t have to worry. I’ve got everything under control. Ava is safe now and besides…”

“Chill out a bit Jem,” Jay interrupted her, joining her on the bed and placing his arm across her shoulders.
“It’s not that.”

“Then what?” Jemima questioned, shifting uncomfortably in her chair. Jay breathes out heavily, hesitating before pulling the note from his pocket.

"You left this on the table," he said. "I couldn't stop thinking about it."

Jemima frowned. "I've looked at it a hundred times, Jay. It's just Alan playing his games."

"Maybe," he replied, his voice low. "But something about the handwriting felt... off. I compared it to the journal you keep on your desk."

Her brow furrowed. "Why would you do that?"

Jay hesitated, his gaze locked on hers. "Because it matches, Jemima. This is your handwriting."

The words hit her like a physical blow. She shook her head, a chill creeping up her spine.

"That's impossible," she said, her voice trembling. "I didn't write that."

"Then explain how it's the same," Jay pressed gently, though his unease was evident. "It's not just similar, Jem. It's identical."

Jemima's hands tightened into fists as her heart began to race. She tried to find the words, but her mind was spinning, grasping for answers that wouldn't come.

Jay reached across the table, his hand covering hers. "I'm not accusing you of anything. But something's going on, and we need to figure out what."

Before she could respond, a sharp, piercing pain shot through her skull. She gasped, clutching her head as the room seemed to blur and twist around her.

"Jemima?" Jay's voice was distant, distorted.

She felt herself slipping as if she were being pulled underwater. And then everything went black.

When Jemima's eyes opened again, the room felt different. Warmer. More suffocating. She blinked, taking in her surroundings—the same study, but something about it seemed sharper, more vivid.

Jay stood frozen, his expression one of shock and wariness.

"Jemima?" he asked cautiously.

The figure in front of him tilted her head, a slow, predatory smile spreading across her face.

"Not quite," she said, her voice carrying a sharp edge that was distinctly not Jemima's.

Jay's chest tightened. "Who are you?"

The woman leaned back in her chair, crossing her legs as if she owned the room. Her movements were fluid and confident, a stark contrast to Jemima's usual guarded demeanor.

"You can call me Jemma," she said. "Jemma Vance. But you probably guessed that already."

Jay's grip on the edge of the table tightened. "What's going on? Where's Jemima?"

"Oh, she's still here," Jemma said casually, gesturing to herself. "Somewhere. I'm just borrowing the wheel for a bit. It's been ages since I've had a proper conversation."

Jay swallowed hard. This was no trick. No act. The woman in front of him looked like Jemima, but the aura she exuded was chilling.

"What do you want?" he asked, keeping his voice steady.

"What do I want?" Jemma echoed, laughing softly. "That's a complicated question. But since you're asking, I'd say I want you to stop looking so terrified. I don't bite. Much."

Jay forced himself to stay calm, though every instinct screamed at him to get out of the room.

"You said you've been here before," he said carefully. "How long?"

"Since Jemima was twelve," Jemma said matter-of-factly, her eyes glinting with something unreadable. "Though I've been hiding out for most of it. She's been through enough without me stepping in. But lately... well, let's just say the situation called for a little intervention."

Jay's stomach churned. "What situation?"

Jemma's smile faded. She leaned forward, her voice dropping to a whisper. "You don't know, do you? Poor Jemima. Poor, broken Jemima. The things she's forgotten... the things she's had to forget."

"Tell me," Jay urged, his voice cracking.

Jemma hesitated, rolled her eyes then sighed.

“I’m not supposed to tell you though but we’ve grown pretty comfortable with you.”

“We?” Jay asked, his heart racing with tension as he stared at Jemima.

“Yes, we! Jemma and Jemima duh!”
“So tell me.”

“Fine. I'll give you the short version. Your precious Jemima didn't grow up in the perfect little world she likes to pretend she did. Her father... let's just say he wasn't the kind of man who deserved to have children."

Jay's heart pounded. He didn't want to believe it, but the look in Jemma's eyes—raw, unfiltered anger—told him she wasn't lying.

"She was twelve," Jemma continued, her voice cold. "He hurt her in ways no child should ever have to endure. And when her mind couldn't take it anymore, I was born. To protect her. To keep her safe."

Jay felt sick. "Her father... Damien?"

Jemma nodded. "But it wasn't just him. The Valerians have always been monsters, Jay. Torture, manipulation, control—it's all they know. Diane drugged Damien several times and this caused him to take advantage of Jemima. They sent her comfort person away- Marcus. They made Ava watch. Ava didn’t even so much as bat an eyelid Jemima was their pawn, their scapegoat. And when they pushed her too far, I stepped in. I did what she couldn't."

"What does that mean?" Jay asked though he wasn't sure he wanted the answer.

Jemma's eyes darkened. "It means I made deals. With Jon. With Alan. They helped us and gave us an escape when no one else would. But favors come with a price."

Jay's breath caught. "Ava. You're the one who—"

"Arranged her little detour?" Jemma finished, smirking. "Guilty. Alan needed leverage, and I owed him. Simple as that."

Jay stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor. "You're working with Alan? You've been betraying us this whole time?"

"Betraying you?" Jemma repeated, her tone mockingly innocent. "Oh, Jay. Don't act so surprised. You had to know something wasn't adding up."

His fists clenched at his sides. "You put Ava's life in danger. You're working with the man who's trying to destroy Jemima's family. How can you justify that?"

Jemma's smile faded, replaced by something colder. "You think I enjoy this? Do you think I wanted any of this? I do what I have to do to keep Jemima safe. She may not know it, but everything I've done—everything I've sacrificed—has been for her."

Jay's voice shook with anger and disbelief. "You've been lying to her. To all of us. How is that keeping her safe?"

Jemma stood, her eyes blazing. "Because if she knew the truth, it would destroy her. Do you have any idea what it's like to carry the weight of someone else's pain? To be the one who takes the blows so they don't have to?"

Jay didn't respond. He couldn't. He didn’t know how to.

For a moment, the room was silent. Then Jemma's shoulders slumped, and she let out a weary sigh.

"I don't expect you to understand," she said quietly. "But know this, I love Jemima. She's more than just a host to me. She's my reason for existing. And I'll do whatever it takes to protect her."

Jay's voice was barely above a whisper. "What happens now?"

Jemma gave him a sad smile. "That's up to you. But if you tell her—if you push her to remember—you might not like what you find."

Before he could respond, Jemma's eyes fluttered shut, and she swayed on her feet. Jay caught her just as she collapsed, her body limp in his arms.

"Jemima?" he whispered, shaking her gently.

Her eyes opened slowly, and she blinked up at him in confusion. "Jay? What... what happened?"

Jay hesitated, his mind racing. "You blacked out," he said finally. "I think the stress is getting to you."

Jemima sat up, her brow furrowed. "I don't remember... I was in the study, and then..."

She trailed off, her expression turning to one of fear. "Jay, what's going on? I feel like I'm losing my mind."

He placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder, though his turmoil threatened to consume him. "You're not losing your mind, Jem. We'll figure this out. Together."

But as he looked into her eyes, he couldn't shake the memory of Jemma's words—or the chilling certainty that the worst was yet to come.