Vero Code: Vero's Deception

Chapter One: Echos of the Past

Ali grimaced as she swallowed two neuro-mend tablets, their bitterness a stark contrast to the relief blooming in her head. Daily medication kept her migraines at bay, a constant reminder of her premature birth and the doctors' prognosis: a below-average mind. Yet, Ali functioned well, thanks to her parents' wealth and unwavering support. Private healthcare and education shielded her in a comfortable bubble in North London's East Finchley. College, a gilded cage she was ready to escape, loomed on the horizon.

The rhythmic rasp of her brush against her untamed curls was oddly comforting. They were a mess, the ends whispering of neglect, mirroring a growing disinterest in her own reflection. Her gaze drifted to the window, snagged by the activity across the street. Movers unloaded boxes into the long-vacant house, their blurry figures swallowed by the bright sunlight. Laughter, like wrestling children, echoed through the air. Ali squinted, yearning for a sharper view. The world felt like a vibrant painting, slightly out of focus.

"Ali!" Her mum's voice echoed through the house.

Ali padded downstairs, wincing at the chipped polish on her toes. "I really need to sort myself out," she muttered, shoving stray hair behind her ears.

At the doorway, she met her parents and three newcomers. A radiant woman with a smile that reached her dark eyes stood out immediately. Her figure-hugging dress accentuated her hourglass form. Ali guessed late twenties, but the two children beside her hinted otherwise.

One, a girl with the same captivating almond eyes and flawless complexion as the woman, stood confidently. The other, a boy, towered over them all. His dark skin gleamed with an almost unreal sheen, his bleached hair a stark contrast. He wore dark sunglasses, but the sharp angles of his cheekbones hinted at a striking face. Full lips, the bottom one a tempting pink against his rich skin, completed his aura of mystery.

An unsettling familiarity prickled Ali. Had she met them before? The feeling was faint, yet undeniable.

"Remember the Tiago family, Ali? José and Ivy?" her mum chirped, shattering the tense silence.

Recognition flickered in Ali's eyes as she scanned the faces. Years had sculpted them into unfamiliar figures, especially José, or Ze as she and their friends always called him. Gone was the boy with the easy smile. In his place stood a man with skin richly imbued with melanin, a stark contrast to his childhood. Though shades hid his eyes now, Ali recognized the piercing dark brown she remembered, once playful but now holding a hint of danger. Even beneath the sunglasses, the faint outline of a mustache and goatee hinted at a maturity she wasn't prepared for. Eight years had passed, and the boy she knew had transformed into a man with a guarded gaze, harboring secrets behind those dark eyes.

"Ali? You've grown into a beautiful woman," Aunt Linda, Mrs. Tiago, exclaimed, pulling Ali into a warm embrace. Ali stammered a response, cheeks flushing under Zé's intense gaze. He finally removed his sunglasses, revealing deep brown eyes that held a spark of something unreadable. His expression remained a stoic mask, a stark contrast to Ivy's warm smile.

Memories flickered – a younger Ivy, barely seven, clinging to her mother's hand. Now, she was a petite young woman, blossoming with strength and confidence, her dark hair cascading down to her waist, the ends bleached a rebellious blonde. Mrs. Tiago nudged Zé, who offered a curt handshake. His grip was firm, sending shivers down Ali's spine. A constant check of his watch betrayed his impatience, casting a shadow over the reunion. But what was he hiding?

Dinner was a blur of boisterous chatter, with Ali's family taking center stage. Zé remained an enigma, his dark eyes flitting around the room, absorbing everything. A single word, "Avery," hung in the air after he corrected Ali's use of his childhood nickname. The evening culminated in a surprise vow renewal for Ali's parents, leaving a bittersweet taste in Ali's mouth.

Exhausted and emotionally drained, Ali retreated to the bathroom. Stealing a glance in the mirror, she felt a strange disconnect. The girl staring back was the same, yet different. A shadow of recognition flickered in Zé's eyes – a hint of the boy she once knew. But beneath the surface lurked a stranger, a stranger with a guarded past and a purpose she couldn't fathom.

"Didn't know disappearing to America for eight years could turn you into a total prick," she mumbled as the front door shut, a sliver of defiance replacing the ache in her chest. Maybe Zé didn't recognize her anymore, but Ali was determined to find out who Avery truly was.