MATHEW

I stepped out of the bathroom, drying my hair with a small towel. Ethan was still by the window, his gaze fixed outside just as I had left him before my shower.

"That won't help," I said, walking over to join him. My eyes followed his line of sight, landing on Florence—the woman he believed to be our aunt. "If she really was our aunt, she would’ve recognized me the day I arrived. But she didn’t. Not even you, Ethan. She didn’t seem to know you either."

"She’s pretending," Ethan said firmly, his tone laced with conviction. "I know her. That’s exactly how she is."

I sighed, shaking my...