"Gran, I have something important to share," I said, my heart racing as we sat at the dining table, the soft glow of candlelight flickering around us on the night of the dance.

Gran looked up from her well-worn book, her brow slightly furrowed with curiosity. "I have something I need to tell you as well."

A nervous flutter stirred in my stomach.

What could she possibly want to discuss?

"What is it?" I prompted, eager yet apprehensive.

"You go first," she replied, her voice steady but her eyes intense.

I hesitated. "Your news probably isn't as serious as mine."

"I contacted Isobel's mother when we moved here," she said, her gaze drifting momentarily away from my eyes.

My heart dropped at the mention of Isobel. "What?"

"In the wake of Isobel's death, her mother's mental health quickly deteriorated. They were already estranged because of her parents' divorce. Unfortunately, she's... well, she's not doing well; they fear she may not have much time left."

A heavy silence hung in the air as I processed her words. "What about Isobel's father?"

"He left town after the divorce. The only time he visits is on her birthday and the anniversary of her death. Isobel's mother wants to meet you. I know this is a lot, but—"

"I want to meet her," I interrupted, my voice resolute.

Gran nodded slowly, understanding the weight of my words. "Okay. We can see her tomorrow."

An uncomfortable silence stretched between us, thick and suffocating, before I finally broke it. "Does she know about Elena?"

"I don't know," Gran admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Could I invite her to come?" I asked, desperate to bridge the gap between our worlds. She deserves to know Elena; it might ease the tension that hangs over us like a storm cloud.

"Of course," Gran replied, but the silence returned as she returned to her book, the faint rustle of pages turning echoing in the stillness.

"I have to tell you something else," I ventured, gathering my thoughts.

"What did you want to say?" Gran asked, glancing back at me with an intrigued expression.

"Oh boy," I muttered under my breath, anxiety crawling up my spine.

"What is it, Bella?" she prompted, concern creeping into her tone.

"Vampires are real," I blurted out, the words feeling foreign yet pressing.

Gran set her book down, her eyes narrowing as she scrutinized me. "What?"

To my surprise, she seemed more exhausted than shocked, as if she had braced herself for something more outrageous.

"I know how it sounds, but hear me out," I urged, desperation coloring my voice.

"Alright," she replied, crossing her arms, ready to listen.

"First off, Isobel... she killed herself."

"What?!" Her reaction was an immediate jolt, surprising both of us.

"She died the same day we saw her," I shared, my voice trembling.

"When did you find out?" Her concern deepened.

"Yesterday. Elena screamed it at me," I explained, frustration seeping in with my words.

"She knew all this time?!" Gran's disbelief was palpable.

"Caroline said Isobel killed herself in front of Elena."

"Oh my god, what does this have to do with vampires?" Gran asked, her brows knitting together in confusion.

"Isobel was a vampire," I revealed, my voice dropping to a whisper.

"So she ran off to join some vampire cult?" Gran dismissed, skepticism lacing her tone.

"A vampire attacked me," I insisted, the memory flooding back like a dark wave.

"What? When?" Her eyes widened, stunned.

"The night I was attacked—"

"Was it her?" Gran's voice was sharp with concern.

"No, it wasn't."

"Did John tell you about this?" she asked, returning her gaze to the book, still trying to grasp the bizarre situation.

"Vampires, compulsion, vervain— all that nonsense nearly drove Beau insane."

"Okay," I replied, realizing she knew how to protect herself if things got dangerous. I returned to my plate, the food now seeming unappetizing. "I'll text Caroline."

Bella, it's Caroline.

I've been meaning to text you. What's up?

Damon mentioned he saw you chatting with Mr. Saltzman.

Yeah, but that's not really important. I need you to tell Elena something.

Did Mr. Saltzman say or do anything weird?

Like what?

Did he threaten you or something?

Caroline, what's going on here?

Klaus.

What about him?

He knows about you and Elena.

What? How does he know that?

Well, Elena kind of accidentally told him.

How does she 'accidentally' tell someone that?

That's not how it went down.

How is it not?

Klaus took over Alaric's body.

And thats how he find out?

Or maybe Katherine spilled the beans.

Elena's evil twin, huh?

Or maybe Isobel told her.

But we know for sure that Elena told Klaus about me.

Maybe Alaric did, but we really don't know.

How long was he possessed?

We think since Isobel's death.

So, Mr. Saltzman probably didn't know about us being sisters, right?

Yep.

And I doubt this Katherine even knows my name. I'd probably already be gone if she's as dangerous as everyone says.

You're related to the doppelganger; that's probably why you're safe for now.

And this Katherine is smart, right?

You don't live for 500 years without having some smarts.

Don't you think she'd hold onto my existence for as long as possible?

I'm not helping you with any of your attacks on Elena! I just wanted to warn you.

Message received.

Don't be like that! What did you want to text me about?

My Gran mentioned that Isobel's mom is dying. I thought Elena would want to meet her.

Okay, I'll ask her.

"Alright, let's be clear. Besides the fact that Elena is at the center of this curse," Jenna demanded, her voice firm and unyielding, "what else am I missing?"

"Bella and I are sisters," I stated decisively, handing her a cup of steaming tea, determined to keep the conversation focused.

Alaric turned to me, his expression a mix of shock and disbelief, but Jenna quickly averted her gaze. "Because of her, Isobel," she said sharply, locking her eyes onto mine. "Is John her father too?"

I was taken aback. "You already knew about Bella?"

"Not the sister part," Jenna sighed, frustration evident in her tone, "but yes, I knew."

"When did you find this out?" I pressed, needing to understand the timeline.

"When the Swans left town, John told me," she replied, her voice steady as she laid out the facts.

"He told you?!" Alaric exclaimed, incredulous. "What was his reason?"

"Where is Bella?" Jenna pressed insistently. "Shouldn't she be here?"

"She's at risk; her scent is far too enticing for vampires. It's safer for her to stay away for now," Stefan explained, his

tone matter-of-fact.

"Does she know about vampires?" Jenna asked, her concern sharpening her focus.

"Yes," I confirmed, standing my ground.

"Why did John share this information with you?" Alaric inquired, refusing to let it go.

"Because she should be here," Jenna asserted, her eyes fierce. "We have no idea what this guy truly looks like. He could be out there, threatening her right now."

"Why did John tell you?" I reiterated, unwilling to drop the subject.

"And her grandmother," Jenna continued, her voice rising with determination, "should be informed as well—"

"Jenna, why?" Alaric pressed, his urgency clear.

jenna snipped, "Welcome to being on the other side of having the people you care about keeping secerts,"

"Jenna," Stefan interjected quietly, trying to redirect the conversation, "this information could help save Elena."

"That's the thing," Jenna replied, her tone firm. "Bella's secret has nothing to do with any of this. The Swans Mystic Falls for all too human reasons. If she chooses to come to me and ask, I will tell her."

With that, the room fell silent as Jenna turned away, the air thick with tension and the weight of our precarious situation pressing down on us.

"Did you speak to Caroline?" Klaus heard a voice hinting at age and wisdom belonging to an older woman.

"I texted her a few days ago," came the reply.

That voice belonged to Isabella Swan.

Klaus scanned the bustling grill, filled with laughter and the aroma of grilled food, and spotted Isabella deep in conversation with a senior.

It was the same woman he had encountered just a few days earlier. The older woman wore a vibrant green floral dress that billowed softly around her. At the same time, Isabella looked especially radiant in her blue outfit, complementing her features beautifully.

"I don't know if she told Elena," the woman continued.

"I told John," she added, her tone slightly more serious. "Despite how she feels about you and Isobel, she should meet that woman."

"Should I tell Isobel's little husband?" Klaus interjected,

sensing a hint of tension in the air.

"He'll probably hear it from John or Elena anyway. Can we talk about something other than… this?" the woman suggested, looking around to escape the subject.

"I haven't seen much of John. Do you think he's angry about the test?"

"I'd say he's more disappointed," she replied, casting her gaze downward as though she were pondering the weight of her words.

"Why?"

"Because you actually want him in your life," she stated, with an undeniable sincerity.

"But he hasn't really spoken to me..." Isabella said, her voice trailing off as uncertainty crept in.

"What about that Stefan boy?" the older woman asked a twinkle of mischief in her eye.

"Elena's boyfriend?!" Isabella exclaimed, her tone infused with surprise.

"Has he contacted you?" the woman pressed, her tone becoming more curious.

"No, he hasn't," Isabella replied, shaking her head.

"Have you—"

"I'm not the kind of person who goes after someone else's boyfriend," she interrupted, defending her stance.

"I meant, have you tried telling him?" the older woman said, laughter bubbling beneath her words. "He could probably talk her into coming."

"No," Isabella mumbled, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. She glanced toward the bar, her cheeks flushing a deep crimson as she noticed Alaric, the teacher, watching her intently.

"The little husband is watching me," she whispered in frustration and embarrassment.

"The husband?"

"Mr. Saltzman," she replied, her expression suggesting both annoyance and apprehension.

"We should leave; we haven't ordered anything. You can wait in the truck while I get you something. Who knows what sort of craziness Isobel and John have told him about you?"

"Let's just ignore him." Isabella focused intently on her menu as though it had answers to her troubles.

"I don't like the idea of another strange man fixated on you lurking around. John is understandable to a point, but this guy— we don't really know him. He could be just as nutty as Isobel,"

Isabella shuddered slightly at the thought and nodded in agreement. "Then we'll go."

"You head outside, and I'll talk to Matt for a minute,"

The older woman moved toward the bar while Isabella stumbled out the door, her heart racing. The teacher observed the girl's departure keenly before turning to the older woman, his brow furrowing with concern.

"Is something wrong?" Alaric Saltzman asked, his voice laced with genuine worry. "Is Isobel alright?"

"She's fine," the woman snapped back, her tone rigid and protective.

"I heard— I heard that she's my wife's daughter—" Alaric began, trying to tread carefully.

"She's nothing like her!" the woman interrupted, her voice rising with intensity.

The teacher hesitated, momentarily taken aback, then responded, "Yes, I know. Ma'am—"

"You stay away from my granddaughter," she warned, her eyes narrowing as she delivered the ultimatum.

I paced anxiously around the truck, my eyes scanning the bustling parking lot as I awaited Gran's return. As I fidgeted, I caught sight of an attractive young man, around nineteen, emerging from the grill. He sauntered casually toward the entrance, radiating an air of confidence. His dark, curly blond hair framed his face, and his pearl-white skin seemed to glow under the afternoon sun. He wasn't facing me, but his black suit provided an air of sophistication that made him stand out.

Compelled by an instinct I couldn't quite place, I slid my phone from my pocket and captured a quick photo of him. A shiver ran down my spine; something about him sent a strange chill through me.

Finally, Gran stepped outside, her smile brightening the gray day. The young man walked over to her, guiding her gently, occasionally glancing back at me with an intensity that made my heart race. I hurried over to them, feeling a mix of curiosity and unease. He suddenly turned toward me and breathed, "Il cantante."

His dark blue-green eyes locked onto mine, and I felt a strange pull.

Gran and I exchanged glances, bewildered by this unexpected encounter. Clearing his throat, he extended the takeout bag toward us. "I noticed that those men at the bar made you uncomfortable, so I thought I'd help—"

"Who are you?" I interrupted my voice sharper than I intended.

He paused, a playful smile spreading across his face."Call me Nik," he said, his gaze still fixed on me with unsettling fascination. "And who might you be? I overheard a man mention Isabella—could that be you?"

"Thank you for helping my grandma," I replied, my tone decisive as I took Gran's arm and began to lead her away. "Nice meeting you, Nik."

Just as I was about to hop into the truck, Gran's voice broke through my thoughts. "Bella, our food!"

I turned to find Nik holding our takeout, his disarming yet oddly unsettling smile. I approached him hesitantly, extending my hand to take the bag. But as his finger brushed against my knuckles, I felt a jolt, and the bag slipped from my grasp.

In a flash, he caught it, his grip surprisingly quick. His eyes held mine, and an inexplicable tension lingered in the air, sending another wave of discomfort over me.

"You must forgive me; I'm new in town," he said, his voice

smooth and confident.

"We should be going," I insisted, feeling the urgency to escape.

"See you around, Isabella," he replied, the weight of his gaze lingering long after I turned away.

After Gran and I got home, my phone rang crazy like crazy.

It was an unknown number, so I didn't answer; after it eventually stopped, its vibrations made me jump.