After Five Years Abroad, Everyone Believed I’d Perished

1
After the breakup, I took my shattered heart and, without telling a soul, fled the country to study abroad.
For five years, I changed my name, my number, and severed every last tie to my old life.
Everyone thought I was dead.
That I had died on the day my boyfriend, Liam, went behind my back and married my stepsister.
For five whole years, a fresh red rose was laid on my grave every single day.
Five years later, I returned to arrange for my mother's grave to be moved. And there he was, Liam, once again holding a red rose to mourn me.
After a moment of shared shock and awkward silence, I managed to speak.
"Long time no see."
He forced a twitch of his lips, hiding the rose behind his back.
"Long time no see," he echoed. "I thought I thought you were dead."
I offered a thin smile, pretending not to notice the redness rimming his eyes.
He wasn't wrong.
Cathy was dead.
She died five years ago, on the day he secretly married my father's illegitimate daughter.

2
I was arranging to have my mother's grave relocated when I noticed a new headstone right next to hers. A headstone that belonged to me.
The inscription read: Beloved Wife, Cathy Graham.
In front of it lay a bouquet of fresh roses, a small St. Christopher medal, and a slice of the chocolate fudge cake that used to be my favorite.
The cemetery administrator followed my gaze and his eyes widened slightly.
"Ms. Davenport, look at the photo on that headstone. Doesn't she look just like you?"
He chuckled nervously. "If I didn't know you just flew in from Paris, I'd think I was seeing a ghost!"
I smiled.
"She does, but it's not me."
My name is Stella Davenport. Im a senior writer for the Parisian magazine MT and the sole heiress to the Davenport Corporation.
I just celebrated my third wedding anniversary with my husband. Our son is two.
A winner, by all accounts.
The woman on that headstone was Cathy Graham.
Five years ago, after my father's illegitimate daughter was diagnosed with depression, my father and brother arranged a wedding for her behind my back.
The groom was the man I had loved since we were children, my fianc of eight years.
She was a complete and utter loser.
We were no longer the same person.
Tearing my eyes away, I turned back to discuss the relocation details with the administrator.
Suddenly, a familiar voice cut through the air from behind me.
"Cathy!"
I ignored it, continuing my conversation.
A strong hand suddenly gripped my arm.
Under the administrator's astonished gaze, I stumbled, spinning around to meet Liam's eyes.
"Cathy," he breathed, his voice tight with disbelief. "You you're not dead?"
A cold smile touched my lips, but my eyes drifted to the red rose in his hand.
Five years.
Since when did Liam's eyes become as red as the roses he held?

3
After the administrator left, I stood before my own grave.
Liam was behind me, the rose now crushed on the ground. His voice was laced with the fury of a man who'd been deceived.
"Quite the act you've been pulling, huh, Cathy? Was it fun? Watching me drown in guilt every single day for five years?"
"You couldn't even leave a single message."
I answered with a casual shrug. "Wasn't it you who told me to never bother you again?"
Five years ago, when I got the news he was marrying Mia, Id raced to the venue.
I crashed on the way. The airbag pinned me to the driver's seat, my breath coming in ragged gasps.
I called him, begging him to come save me.
But he was busy placing the veil on Mia's head. The phone rang and rang.
He only picked up on the final call.
"Mia's had a hard enough life as it is," he'd said, his voice cold. "Can't you even let her have one wedding?"
"I don't care if you're in a car crash. Even if you died, don't bother me. I am marrying Mia today!"
I met Liam when I was seven. We started dating at eighteen and were engaged at twenty-three.
At twenty-six, he told me to die so he could marry my father's illegitimate daughter.
In that moment, I made a vow. I would never bother him again for the rest of my life.
Now, hearing my words, he tugged uncomfortably at his collar. "C'mon, it was just a figure of speech. You actually took it seriously?"
He straightened up, his eyes scanning me from head to toe. "How did you know I'd be at the cemetery today? You even wore that green coat I always liked"
A humorless smirk played on his lips. "You don't actually think that after tricking me for five years, all you have to do is play dumb, play a little hard-to-get, and I'll come crawling back, do you?"
"Let me tell you, Mia has been wonderful to me while you were gone. Unless you get on your knees and beg for my forgiveness, I will never"
"You're overthinking things," I cut him off, my patience gone.
"I'm here to move my mother's grave. Once that's done, I'm leaving."
"And one more thing"
I paused, then started walking towards the cemetery gates.
"Since you're married, you should probably stop wearing our engagement ring."
"It's faded."

4
Liam stood frozen for a second before striding to catch up with me.
"It's your dad's fiftieth birthday tomorrow. He misses you. Make sure you come early."
I hesitated for a fraction of a second, then quickened my pace.
As far as I was concerned, my father died five years ago.
Five years ago, at my mother's funeral, Robert Graham brought his illegitimate daughter home and introduced her to all our relatives.
"I just made a little mistake, the kind any man could make," he'd announced.
"Mia's been living on the outside for over twenty years. I waited until after your mother passed to bring her home. I did right by your mother."
So, to "compensate," he let Mia take my room, my jewelry.
He let her play the "innocent little sister" and wedge herself between me and Liam.
When I was rushed into surgery after the car crash, the nurse called him for consent. He'd refused.
"Today is my younger daughter's wedding. A hospital is such a downer, I can't go."
"I know Cathy. She's always been a drama queen. Broken bones, major blood loss she's making it all up. You're a hospital, not a theater. Don't play along with her."
"My daughter is calling for me, the ceremony is about to start. Don't call again."
Lying on that operating table, I could feel the pity and sympathy in the eyes of the doctors and nurses around me.
They had probably never seen someone so completely abandoned by their family.
Snapping back to the present, I pulled down my sleeve to cover the scars on my arm and hailed a cab back to my hotel.
That evening, I video-chatted with my husband and son. My husband, Noah, is an expat, and hes wonderfully clingy. Just like our little boy, he cant stand a day without me.
"Honey, Dad said he's feeling homesick too. He's packing right now and will fly back with us tomorrow morning," Noah said.
My adoptive brother, Julian, poked his head into the frame. "That's right, little sis. Dad and I talked it over. Moving your aunt's grave is a big deal, we have to be there."
"Besides," he added, "Dad and I can inspect our domestic operations. You take care of yourself while you're there alone. Eat well, stay warm. You know how your knee gets."
The accident five years ago left a permanent ache in my knee.
Julian was my mentor back then, the first to see how lost I was.
During those five years in France, he took me in, made me his sister, and helped me build a new identity.
My adoptive father, Richard Davenport, doted on me as if I were his own.
They are my real family.
I smiled and nodded. After a few more minutes of chatter, I reluctantly hung up.
It felt so good to have a family that cared.

5
The next day, the arrangements for the grave were proceeding smoothly, so I had some free time. I decided to go to the mall to buy a few things for my family's return.
On the way, Liam, who had somehow gotten my new number, sent me a text with an address.
The Alistair Hotel.
One of the properties my adoptive father, Richard, was planning to inspect upon his return.
I ignored it and hailed a cab back to my hotel.
A black Maybach pulled up silently in front of me.
Before I could react, the back door was opened, and I was pushed inside. The door clicked shut, locking me in.
"Bobby?"
Seeing the familiar face of my brother, Bobby, in the driver's seat, the name slipped out instinctively. Then I remembered the last call I ever made to him.
Five years ago, boarding pass in hand, I had called to tell him I was leaving for good, that I wouldn't get in the way of him and Mia being "real" siblings anymore.
But before I could say a word, his angry voice had cut me off.
"Cathy! Did your manners die with Mom?"
"If Liam and Dad hadn't told me, I never would have known you'd stoop so low as to fake a car crash just to ruin Mia's wedding. You just can't stand to see her happy, can you?"
"Don't you ever call me 'brother' again. I don't have a sister like you!"
The memory flooded back, and I immediately corrected myself. "Sorry, my mistake."
"Mr. Graham."
I stressed the name, emphasizing my detachment. Bobby's face darkened instantly.
"You're still so Hmph. Have the last five years been that hard on you?" he sneered, glancing at my shopping bags.
"Can't even afford a decent gift for Dad's birthday."
"If Liam hadn't told me you were back, how long were you planning on holding this grudge?"
"If you were half as considerate as Mia, I wouldn't have to"
He stopped himself.
I gave a small, bitter laugh, finishing his sentence for him. "You wouldn't have to choose her over me."
It was a line I could have recited in my sleep five years ago.
Bobby glanced at the rearview mirror, his expression unreadable.
Then, he said casually, "There's chocolate fudge cake in the fridge."
I used to love chocolate fudge cake.
Especially the kind Bobby made.
Before Mia moved in, Bobby had been the kindest person to me in the world, besides my mother.
I loved pink, so he filled my closet with pink princess dresses.
I loved chocolate cake, so he learned how to bake it himself. Whenever I was upset, he would appear with a freshly baked cake to coax a smile out of me.
I once believed he was the one person in the world who would never betray me.
But at Mia and Liams wedding, he was the one who led the toast, wishing them a lifetime of happiness together.
On my way to crash that wedding, I had called and screamed at him, "Why are you helping an outsider bully me?"
I could have accepted anyone's betrayal. Anyone but his.
Because he was my brother.
He had paused on the phone, then his voice came back, firm and final. "Cathy, you're my sister. But Mia is my sister, too."
"I want her to be happy."
That phrase, "Mia is my sister, too," had made my mind go blank. My hands slipped on the wheel, and I crashed into the guardrail.
I could almost feel the phantom pain of steel tearing through my knee again.
Taking a sharp breath, I forced the memory down. "I stopped eating chocolate cake five years ago," I said softly.
Bobby froze, his lips parting as if to say something.
I looked up, my eyes sweeping over his hair, which was now streaked with gray. "This isn't the way to my hotel. Where are you taking me?"
Bobby's Adam's apple bobbed. "To Dad's birthday party."
The black Maybach stopped in front of the hotel.
I was reluctantly dragged inside by Bobby.
At the head table in the center of the grand hall sat my biological father, Robert Graham, dressed in a festive red suit and looking perfectly genial.
He had aged in five years, softened around the edges.
If the memories weren't so painful, I might have forgotten the way hed forced me to kneel in the rain all night because I wouldn't give my room to Mia.
"Dad, I brought Cathy," Bobby announced, pulling me through the crowd. Liam was sitting next to my father, but Mia was nowhere in sight.
"Dad knew you were coming back today, so he sent Mia on a trip," Bobby explained, as if reading my mind. "He's missed you a lot these past few years."
I snorted. How amusing.
"You're back," Robert said, his gaze sweeping over me with the calm indifference of a parent addressing a child who had just finished a tantrum.
I ignored him and looked at Bobby. "We've had our reunion. Can I go now?"
My other father and brother would be landing soon. They'd worry if I wasn't there.
Bobby looked taken aback. As he was about to speak, the surrounding relatives, hearing the commotion, turned to look.
"Isn't Cathy dead? How is she still alive?"
The speaker was my Aunt Carol, who used to dote on me more than anyone.
She sighed dramatically to the person next to her. "It's a good thing Mia isn't here, or this would just upset her again."
"On such a happy occasion, for her to just show up out of the blue Honestly, that girl has no sense of propriety."
"Tell me about it," chimed in Aunt Susan, who always used to say she wanted to take me home as her own daughter. She shot me a disdainful look. "I always knew there was something conniving about Cathy. Look at her now, lying to her own father just for attention. She's just like her dead mother!"
Their words flew back and forth.
All reprimands. Not a single person asked where I'd been for five years.
If I was okay. If I had been hurt.
A wave of exhaustion washed over me. I wrenched my arm from Bobby's grasp and turned to leave.
"Stop!" Robert's voice was sharp, his expression complicated. "Cathy, you're not even going to stay for dinner?"
As if he wasn't the one whod forbidden me from eating for a week because I refused to give Mia my bedroom.
Liam stood up and grabbed my arm, his face a mask of concern. "It's Dad's birthday. You just got home. Don't make a scene."
I shoved him away, spitting out two words. "You're insane."
I made for the hotel exit.
A heavy hand grabbed a fistful of my hair, and the next second, a stinging slap landed across my face.
The blow was forceful, snapping my head to the side. My scalp and left cheek burned with a fiery pain, and I tasted blood.
My Uncle David, the man who used to give me piggyback rides, let go of my hair and roared, "You little brat, is that any way to speak? Do you have any idea how many times your father has been sick with worry over you?"
"Get on your knees! Apologize to your father properly."
"So young, yet so full of anger"
Five years ago. My mother's funeral.
Robert had walked in with Mia, a girl only a year younger than me, and announced to everyone at my mother's memorial that she was his long-lost daughter and was being officially welcomed into the family.
I had flown into a rage, a madwoman clawing at them.
I screamed for them to get out, to not defile my mother's memory with their presence.
Aunt Carol had held me back, scolding me for being difficult. "Wouldn't it be nice to have a sister?"
Aunt Susan had comforted the "shocked" Mia, saying I was crazy and to ignore me.
Uncle David had clapped Robert on the shoulder. "I told you," hed said sagely, "you can't spoil girls. Look at the state of Cathy now."
"Disgraceful."
The past flashed before my eyes, a nauseating wave of disgust.
If I was going to be sick, they were going to be sick with me.
I dropped the hand covering my cheek, grabbed a wine bottle from the table, and smashed it at their feet.
"I'm telling you for the last time. My name is Stella. Not Cathy. And I have nothing to do with any of you!"
Uncle David pointed a trembling finger at me. "Robert, look at your precious daughter! Daring to defy her elders!"
"Throw her out! She is not welcome in this family!"
Robert stepped in. "Brother, calm down. She is my daughter, after all. Bobby's sister. She's just a child who doesn't know any better. I'll teach her."
Bobby moved to stand in front of me, his voice a mixture of frustration and disappointment. "Cathy, can't you just be reasonable for once?"
Liam leaned in, his tone urgent. "I told you not to make a scene! These are our elders. Why do you have to be so stubborn?"
"Look, just step outside for a bit. I'll call Mia back, let her smooth things over with everyone, and then you can"
Before he could finish, the grand doors to the hotel ballroom swung open.
My husband Noah and my brother Julian walked in, flanking my adoptive father.

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