Familiar Stranger
Chapter 6
Samantha Pov
The quiet hum of machines had faded into the background, replaced by the muffled voices of nurses beyond the half-closed door. The sterile scent of antiseptic clung to me like a second skin. I need to freshen up. I hope Uncle Henry persuades the doctor to release me early. This place… it’s a reminder of the past. I need to get out of here.
I must’ve dozed off after Tom left. He’s kind—gentle in a way that makes me feel safe. I think he sees me as more than just a colleague. *Maybe he has feelings for me.*
*Should I stop him before it goes too far?*
As I tried to sit up, a wave of sharp pain surged through my body.
“Oh God, this pain is unreal,” I muttered. “They say I’m fine, but why does my body say otherwise?”
My throat was parched. I reached for the glass of water on the bedside table when I heard voices—low, familiar.
Through the thin wall and slight gap in the door, I heard them.
Uncle Henry’s thick British accent.
And then—**his** voice. The one I could recognize in my sleep.
**Liam.**
Even after all these years… even after his betrayal… my heart still accelerated at the sound of his voice.
I strained to listen.
> “I want to check on her.”
> “Why are you so concerned now?”
> “Who even are you?”
> “Someone who cares more than you ever did.”
Then silence.
A door clicked. Footsteps faded.
I walked back to bed, heart pounding, wounds reopened. I sank into the pillows.
*So it wasn’t a dream. Liam had come. He stood just beyond the door… and Uncle stopped him.*
I didn’t know whether to feel grateful that he came, or furious for everything he had done—for leaving me when I needed him most. He broke me from the inside out.
The accident left its scars. The betrayal left deeper ones.
He should’ve been the one to hold me, to console me, to put the balm of love back into my fractured soul. And yet… if not for all that pain, I may never have found my father’s side of the family. There’s some grace in that, at least.
A gentle knock interrupted my thoughts.
“Miss Blake?” A nurse peeked in. “We’ll begin your discharge prep now. Dr. Blake said you’ll continue recovery at home.”
Home. But where was that now? I thought.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
Later that evening…
The city blurred through the tinted window of the car. I sat in the back seat, wrapped in a beige shawl, half my face hidden—as if the fabric could shield me from the truth.
Uncle Henry drove in silence, his jaw clenched. I didn’t blame him.
Neither of us spoke until the car pulled into the gated driveway of a beautiful brownstone nestled on a quiet New York street. *Home—for now.*
Uncle stepped out and opened the door for me.
“Are you sure this is safe?” I asked quietly, still seated.
He met my gaze in the rear-view mirror. “Safer than anywhere else. And if he comes again… I’ll be there.”
I knew exactly who he meant.
As he helped me out, a kind-faced woman with short blonde hair opened the door.
“Welcome home, sweetie. I’m Hannah Drew—your uncle’s childhood friend,” she said warmly. Her kindness wrapped around me like a blanket.
Uncle chuckled. “Hannah, are you going to let us in?”
“Oh! Of course,” she smiled. “Come in, come in.”
The interior was stunning. A grand chandelier glistened from the ceiling. The walls were adorned with rich paintings and intricate artefacts. A plush beige sectional sat at the far end, and a matching marble-top coffee and dining set completed the luxurious space. A carved spiral staircase curled up to the first floor. Heavy curtains covered a wall-to-wall window.
As I looked around in awe, Hannah tapped my shoulder.
“You’ll love the morning light through that window. But first—let’s get some food into you,” she said, guiding me to the dining table.
“Uncle,” I said as I sat, “could you arrange for someone to pick up my things from the hotel?”
“They’re already here,” he replied. “And once you’re fit to travel, I’ll arrange for our return journey. If we stay here too long, the past will keep haunting you. I won’t let that happen.”
I simply nodded.
We ate in silence until a staff member burst into the room.
“Madam, there are people outside—press. They want to come in.”
“Press?” Hannah frowned. “Why are they here?”
“We don’t know, ma’am.”
Hannah looked at Henry, then stood. “Alright. Let them in.”
She stepped out, Uncle Henry closely behind.
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