Her Lonely Grey Eyes

Chapter 9 - Odessas confession

𝙊𝙎𝙀𝙎𝙎𝘼 𝙁𝙊𝙓

I pulled the car into the guest parking area of the Dashwood mansion and sat there for a moment before stepping out.

The place still felt the same every time—too big, too quiet, too heavy with things people didn't say out loud.

I walked up and rang the doorbell.

After a short pause, the door opened.

"Mabel!" I greeted her instantly.

She smiled like she always did—bright, effortless.

"Aunt Odessa!"

I reached out and pinched her cheeks lightly.

"I still can't get over this face greeting me like it belongs to a normal, happy kid."

"Ow, Aunt Odessa," she said, laughing softly.

How was I supposed to not feel conflicted?

Mabel was... easy. Warm. Open.

Everything CC wasn't.

And yet somehow, they were the same.

I stepped inside when she moved aside for me.

The mansion was unusually quiet today.

Which already told me something was wrong.

I glanced at her. "Where's your mother?"

Mabel hesitated for a second.

That tiny pause was enough.

"...She's upstairs," she said carefully. "Everyone's a bit... off lately."

"Off how?"

She lowered her voice slightly. "A week ago, we saw someone. A girl. She looked exactly like me."

I didn't react immediately.

Of course they did.

"And since then?" I asked.

"Mom hasn't really been herself," she admitted. "Neither has anyone else."

I exhaled quietly.

Logan had already told me that part after CC's panic attack.

Still... hearing it here made it heavier.

"I'll deal with it," I said more to myself than her.

From the kitchen, Hunter's voice cut in immediately.

"Don't bother her, Odessa. She's not in the mood for your chaos."

I rolled my eyes.

"There's baby Hunter," I muttered. "Still allergic to conversation."

"Don't call me that," he snapped.

Elijah followed right behind him, calmer as always. "Hunter, enough."

I gave a small smile.

Same household. Same energy. Nothing ever changed here.

If anything, they were even more protective than before.

I walked past them toward the stairs.

"Mom's upstairs," Mabel called softly after me.

I didn't answer.

Because I already knew.

•••

The door to the room was open.

Blake was sitting on the bed, staring at a framed photo on the table.

The only photo they had.

The twins.

The day they were born.

Or the day everything split into "before" and "after."

"Blake," I said quietly.

She turned toward me quickly.

"Oh... Odessa."

Her voice tried to sound normal.

It failed.

I stepped in and sat beside her.

"I need to tell you something," I said.

Her expression tightened immediately.

That was my mistake.

I should've been more gentle.

But I wasn't good at gentle anymore.

"I've been keeping something from you," I continued.

She stared at me.

I exhaled.

"CC... is your daughter."

Silence.

Then—

"What?"

Her voice broke instantly.

I raised a hand. "Let me explain."

But panic was already building in her face.

"What do you mean? Did you take my daughter—?"

"No," I cut in quickly. "No. You're not listening."

I forced myself to slow down.

"CC is Cecile. That's her real name. I never used it around you because I didn't want to trigger anything before I had proof."

Blake's breathing was uneven now. "Odessa, that still doesn't—"

So I told her.

Everything.

The orphanage.

The birth certificate.

The name.

Dashwood.

The twin theory.

The records that matched too perfectly to ignore.

By the time I finished, her hands were shaking.

Her eyes had gone completely still.

Like something inside her had shut down.

"I didn't want to believe it at first either," I said more quietly. "But it's her."

Blake didn't speak for a long moment.

Then she whispered, almost broken:

"...We buried a child in our hearts for years."

I didn't answer.

Because there was nothing I could say to that.

Only silence.

•••

When I stood up to leave, Blake didn't stop me.

She just stayed there.

Still staring at the photo.

Like if she looked long enough, time would correct itself.

At the door, I paused.

"I'm bringing her to the party tomorrow," I said. "You'll see her then."

No response.

So I added, softer:

"Be prepared."

Then I left the room.

Downstairs, the house felt different.

Heavier.

The siblings were still there, waiting.

Mabel looked up at me first.

I met her eyes for a second.

Then I gave a small, tired smile.

"You're about to meet your sister," I said quietly.

And for the first time that day—

nobody had anything to say back.