Mind Code (Coded Connections Duet #2)

Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

Amelia

“Home, sweet home,” I whisper sarcastically, barely audible over the bustling crowd that swarms around me.

Stepping out of the airport, the familiar British air hits my face with a chilling embrace. It smells like rain and broken dreams, a bittersweet reminder of everything I’ve left behind.

I try to steel myself, repeating the mantra I’ve been clinging to throughout the flight.

I would have come here anyway.

For August.

But the truth is, I would have had a flight booked back to Seattle.

Now, I don’t.

August promised to pick me up from Heathrow, but when I scan the waiting zone, he’s nowhere to be found. It’s eight a.m., and I desperately need a shower and a nap, but I haven’t even asked where we’ll go from here. I was too nervous, too caught up in the whirlwind of emotions that have been tormenting me since I left Seattle.

The journey was absolute torture. First, everything was delayed. Then, the ten-hour flight was a relentless parade of discomfort made worse by my own thoughts.

I spent at least half the time trying to keep myself from pulling my hair.

And it only worked so well.

I’m still wearing Grey’s sweats and hoodie, and even after the long journey, his scent lingers, reminding me of what I’ve left behind.

What they made me leave behind.

I couldn’t bring myself to change at the airport, needing that small comfort to make it this far. It’s absurd, really, how a simple piece of clothing can anchor you to a person, moment, or feeling.

The feeling of not being so alone.

While I continue to search for August and think about turning my phone back on, my mother’s driver approaches me instead. His familiar smile is a beacon in this sea of strangers, and for a moment, I feel a tiny spark of relief.

The staff always felt more like family than my family ever did.

“Miss Stanley,” he greets me with a nod. “I hope you had a good journey.”

“Wilfred. It’s so nice to see you,” I smile as he takes my bag from my shoulder to put it over his own. “Thank you. As good as it could be. August said he was going to pick me up. Is everything all right?”

“Of course, he’s waiting at the mansion for you. Mrs. Stanley was adamant about me picking you up.”

A cold shiver runs down my spine at his words. “He’s at the mansion?”

“He didn’t inform you? He’s back residing full-time,” Wilfred replies carefully.

“Since when? What about Abigail and the girls?” I press, feeling a knot forming in my stomach as he puts my bag in the back of the car and opens the backdoor for me.

“It would be best for you to ask that of young Mr. Stanley yourself,” Wilfred says diplomatically.

“Of course,” I say, sliding into my seat.

I’m so going to give him hell for this.

I look out of the window as we drive to the estate, watching the raindrops slide down on the outside of the pane. It feels as if no time has passed since Wilfred brought me to the airport two years ago.

Did those two years even happen?

Or was it all just a beautiful, painful dream?

“We’ve missed you, Miss Stanley,” Wilfred says, his warm tone breaking through my reverie as he glances back at me through the rearview mirror.

“I told you so many times to call me Amelia,” I remind him with a smile.

He chuckles. “We missed you, Miss Amelia. All the staff has. But I must warn you, the mood in the mansion is… well, it’s even worse than before you left.”

I nod, steeling myself for what’s to come.

Nothing can be as bad as what I’ve left behind in Seattle.

At least my parents were and are always forward and open with what they think of me. I know exactly where I stand with them.

My mind drifts back to the guys and the betrayal that led me here. I can’t hate them, not really. They’re not bad people, at least not at heart. But they got caught up in their project, willing to go to any lengths to achieve their goals. And I was just collateral damage, an easily persuaded, na?ve girl they could use.

The lonely target.

The only one I really have to blame is myself. I knew it would end like this from the start. I knew I was the one who would be hurt coming out of this, with them becoming bigger and better, while I’m left lost, hurt, and forgotten again.

I should probably fight, go to the police, bring them down.

But I’m not like that.

I will not end their careers because I was na?ve.

I will not ruin them just because I love them, and they don’t love me back.

What I will do is be everywhere they look but nowhere to be found, and that will be my revenge.

Let them be successful with their project, maybe even with mine.

They’ll forever know who was part of bringing them there. And I hope it will haunt them.

Pulling up to the mansion, I brace myself for the cold reunion that awaits. The grand facade of the estate looms ahead, its opulence so different from the emptiness I feel inside.

Wilfred gets out and opens the car door for me before he takes my bag, escorting me to the front door and opening it for me.

Stepping inside, the familiar chill of the Stanley mansion washes over me. My eyes immediately lock onto my mother’s figure in the entrance hall. She’s engaged in conversation with a young girl I’ve never seen before, but she’s wearing the crisp, starched uniform of our housemaids.

Mother’s voice, sharp as ever, cuts through the air like a knife, “Make sure to trim the stems at a forty-five-degree angle before placing them in the vase. And use the crystal water to keep them fresh. I want the lilies and the roses arranged alternately… precision is key. Each bloom should be visible and perfectly spaced. This arrangement is for the foyer. It must be impeccable to greet our guests. ”

Just behind her, August towers over them. He’s just as tall as our father, with the same brown hair and blue eyes as mine. But he looks thinner than he did before, tired.

His eyes meet mine first, and I see a flicker of relief cross his face. “Meelie,” he calls out, his entire demeanor brightening as he strides toward me. Before I can react, he pulls me into a fierce embrace, his familiar scent enveloping me.

Home.

“I’m so glad to have you back,” he murmurs into my hair.

The only person who really cares.

I feel the telltale prickle of tears at the corners of my eyes, but I swallow hard, wrangling them back.

This is no place for vulnerability.

“Amelia Charlotte, what in the world are you wearing?” My mother’s harsh words make me stiffen in his arms.

August lets go of me, turning to face her. “She had to take a ten-hour flight in the middle of the night, Mother. Of course, she wanted to feel comfortable.”

“This is unacceptable,” my mother continues, her disapproval palpable. “We have to keep up appearances, and your American casual style is nothing I want to see you in. Go up and take a shower. I’m going to have Betty iron out a dress for you for dinner later. And I want to see your hair in something that is not a bird’s nest.”

With that, she sweeps out of the room, leaving a chill in her wake that seeps into my bones. The maid I don’t recognize comes to grab my bag from Wilfred, smiling shyly before she walks off with it. I feel a pang of guilt for not asking for her name, but then again, Mother’s staff turnover is notoriously high. She might not be here in two weeks.

Wait, will I be?

“Why are we here ? You didn’t say we would be here, ” I hiss at August as he puts an arm around my shoulder and walks me to the stairs.

“Long story,” he says, and I would love to punch him as casually as he just shrugged.

My hands even twitch at the thought, but I somehow restrain myself.

He’s the only ally I have in this house of horrors.

“You’ve got time until dinner before I consider whether I’d rather try my luck as a hitchhiker toward Turkey,” I mutter darkly.

The fact that I’m planning my escape after being here for not even five minutes should be telling.

“Why Turkey?” August asks, smiling. His eyebrows raise in his infuriatingly calm way.

“I heard they have Twizzlers.” In my hasty departure, I forgot to pack some and regret it already.

He laughs heartily, but as we climb the stairs, each step feels like I’m ascending to my own personal purgatory, and I’m not sure I have the strength to face whatever awaits me at the top.

Oliver

Morgan bursts through the door, her breath ragged and her red hair a fiery halo around her face. She’s holding her phone to her ear, her eyes darting between us. “I’m there now,” she says as she puts the call on speaker.

“Good,” Grandpa’s familiar voice crackles through, calm but heavy with concern.

“Thank you for coming,” I tell her, and she gives me a small smile. “Did you check the bookstore downtown on your way over?”

“I did,” Morgan responds, her voice tinged with frustration. “ But she wasn’t there. I don’t know where else to look. Do you have any other ideas? Anything at all?”

“Maybe she’s at Denny Park, by the piano?” Grandpa suggests. “She mentioned she sometimes played there, right?”

Grey grunts from his perch at the kitchen island, not bothering to look up from his laptop. “Already checked there,” he mutters, his scowl deepening. “No sign of her.”

“Has anyone considered she might have gone back to London?” Grandpa asks, his voice carrying a note of hesitation.

My heart plummets, a cold dread seeping through my veins. I shake my head vehemently, even though Grandpa can’t see me. “No, I don’t think so. Her family… they’re awful. She wouldn’t go back willingly.”

“Why is she even gone? You said something happened, but what exactly? Did you have a fight?” Morgan looks between us, confusion etched on her face. “Knowing what I do of her temperament, what would make her leave this soon after being robbed? Wouldn’t she want to stay close?”

I exchange guilty glances with Grey and Misha, the weight of our secret hanging heavy in the room.

The moment of truth has come.

I knew it would someday, but I hoped it would be far in the future when we could laugh about it. Taking a deep breath, I start to explain, “We… a few weeks ago, we asked the Smart Home Development Department to beta test our AI. We thought Amelia’s boss would handle it, but he assigned the job to her. Somehow… something went wrong. Jamie got into her system, accessing her cameras and everything she had set up for her own project. Unknowingly giving us access to basically her entire life.”

“What exactly are you saying?” Grandpa’s voice is tight with controlled anger .

“We had access to her cameras, her systems, her data. Everything .”

Misha jumps in, his face strained. “She didn’t know… we didn’t tell her we’d be watching the AI beta live for data collection. It was a stupid mistake at first.”

“At first?” Morgan’s voice is incredulous, her eyes blazing as she storms across the room, her hands flying up in frustration. “ At first?”

My shoulders sag in defeat. This is so much worse. Maybe if we’d had a chance to explain. Maybe if we’d been upfront with her from the start…

“And when we started watching her,” Grey continues, his eyes finally leaving his laptop screen to meet Morgan’s. “We couldn’t stop. It was like an addiction. But if I’m honest, I am only upset with how she found—”

Morgan’s eyes widen, shock transforming into outrage as she cuts him off. “You’re serious right now? You’ve been fucking stalking her? All of you?” She flails her arms in an erratic, uncontrolled gesture at the three of us, almost hitting Misha. Then she shakes her head and huffs, her face flushed as she continues pacing.

I nod, shame washing over me in waves. “We all… we all fell in love with her. But we just couldn’t stop watching. It was wrong. We know that now, but at the time…”

“We think she found out,” Misha adds, all confidence evaporated.

“Of course she found out,” Grey snaps, slamming his fist on the counter.

Silence follows before Morgan explodes, her face flushing as red as her hair. “Are you fucking kidding me? That’s not just wrong. It’s illegal! You’re stalkers! And terrible ones at that! You watch her apartment all day long, and still, you let her get robbed, let the guy who hurt her get away, and then not even tell her what you did but let her find out by herself? How could you do this to her?”

Grandpa’s voice cuts through Morgan’s tirade. “Boys, I’m deeply disappointed. This is a gross violation of trust and privacy. I thought I raised you better than this, Grey. And Oliver, Misha, I expected more from you.”

“We didn’t mean to…” I start, but the words taste like ash in my mouth as I realize just how far we’ve gone.

“I know, okay? I know .” Grey slams his hand on the kitchen counter again, this time the force makes the dishes rattle. “We fucked up. Badly. ”

I can’t meet Morgan’s eyes, can’t look at Misha or Grey either.

What more is there to say?

Morgan stops pacing, her face set in a hard glare as if she could physically break us down with her gaze. “Fucked up? That’s putting it mildly.” Then she focuses her hard stare on me, the one that always makes me want to sink into the floor. “It’s her, Oliver. Amelia ! The woman you said was your soulmate. How could you?”

She’s right, and that truth guts me more than she could possibly fathom. I run a hand through my hair, frustrated and desperate, pulling at the strands as if trying to tear away the guilt. “I know, I know. We got caught up in it all. The AI, the project, Amelia… it spiraled out of control so fast. Before we knew it, we were in too deep.”

“Out of control? That’s your excuse?” Grandpa’s voice is like a cold slap. “You’re grown men, not teenagers. You should know better.”

Grey’s face is a mask of stoic determination, but the pain in his eyes says more of the turmoil within. “We do know better. That’s why we’re trying to fix this. We have to make it right.”

Misha nods, and I’ve never seen him look so serious. “ We want to make it right. We have to find her, explain everything. She deserves that much, at least.”

Morgan’s scoff is sharp, her anger still simmering. “Explain? What’s there to explain? You watched her without her consent. End of story.”

The words tumble out before I can stop them. “It’s not just that. We care about her. We… we love her. And we want to be with her. In a relationship. All three of us do.”

Morgan’s eyes widen, darting between the three of us. Even Grandpa seems at a loss for words, the silence from the speaker deafening.

“You… all of you?” Morgan finally asks, her voice softer now, tinged with disbelief and something else I can’t quite identify.

I nod, feeling a strange mix of relief and anxiety at finally admitting it out loud. My heart is pounding so hard I’m sure everyone can hear it. “Yeah. All of us. It’s complicated, I know, but it’s the truth.”

Misha chimes in, “We know it’s unconventional. And what we did was wrong, so wrong. But our feelings for her are real. That’s not an excuse, but it’s the truth.”

Grey grunts in agreement, his eyes back on his laptop screen, fingers flying over the keys. “That’s why we need to find her. To apologize, to explain. To make it right if we can. If she’ll let us.”

Morgan sighs, rubbing her temples. I see the conflict on her face, anger warring with concern. “This is… a lot. I don’t even know where to begin. You’ve made such a mess of things.”

Grandpa’s calm and measured voice comes through. “Let’s focus on finding Amelia first. We can deal with the rest later. One step at a time, boys.”

I nod, grateful for the direction, for something concrete to focus on. “You’re right. Finding her is the priority. We need to make sure she’s safe. Everything else can wait.” My chest feels tight, like I can’t quite catch my breath.

Morgan’s expression softens as she notices my struggle. Without a word, she crosses the room and wraps her arms around me. I stiffen for a moment, surprised by the sudden comfort, before melting into her embrace. Her familiar scent, a mix of lemon and antiseptic, reminds me of childhood hugs and scraped knees. “We’re going to fix this.”

I nod against her shoulder, unable to speak.

Grey’s voice is thick with emotion as he says softly, “We never meant for this to happen. We just… we got so caught up in her. And now she’s out there, alone and scared.”

“And confused,” Misha adds, running a hand through his curls. “We never got to explain. She probably thinks the worst of us. But we kept watching her because it became obvious how much she needed to be seen.”

Grey’s phone suddenly pings, and he almost lets it fall to the floor when he leans over to get it from the countertop. “Gotcha.” Then, a second later, he follows up with, “Fuck.”

“What is it?” I ask, my heart racing.

Grey looks up, exhaling sharply as his shoulders relax, though his eyes remain tense. “It located her tracker.”

Morgan’s eyes narrow. “Tracker? You put a fucking tracker on her phone without her knowledge? And despite all this, the fact she’s left because of this mess, you’re still fucking stalking her?”

Before Grey can reply, Grandpa’s voice cuts through the room. “Boys, this is getting out of hand. It’s no wonder she left.” He takes a deep breath as if trying to keep his composure while talking to toddlers. “You’ve violated not just her trust but the very essence of her privacy. Do you understand what that means? This isn’t just about fixing a mistake. This is about a profound breach of ethics and respect. You’re so caught up in trying to make excuses that you’re losing sight of the gravity of your actions. This isn’t a game, and it’s not something you can simply fix with an apology.”

I feel a surge of frustration.

We don’t have time for this.

“You can lecture us later.” When Morgan looks at me with eyebrows raised, I add, “Please. What does the tracker say, Grey?”

Grey shoots me a grateful look before continuing. “I thought she’d found it and uninstalled it. But her phone was just off, or in airplane mode, to be precise. Because the location just pinged, and…” He pauses, taking a deep breath. “She’s in London.”

London.

She’s gone back to the place she was so desperate to escape.

My mind races, trying to understand why she would return to a place that caused her so much pain.

Because we caused her more.

And her sanctuary was violated.

“London?” Morgan repeats. “But you said her family was awful. Why would she go back there?”

I shake my head, trying to make sense of it. “I don’t know. Maybe she felt like she had nowhere else to go. Or maybe…” I trail off, unable to finish the thought.

“Maybe she thinks we won’t follow her there,” Misha finishes, his face pale.

Grey nods, his jaw set in determination. “Well, she’s wrong about that. We’re going after her.”

“Hold on,” Grandpa’s voice interrupts. “You can’t just chase her across the world. She clearly wants space.”

“We can’t just leave her there,” I exclaim, my voice rising. “You don’t understand what her family is like. She needs us! ”

Morgan holds up a hand. “Okay, let’s all take a breath. We need to think this through rationally.”

But I can’t be rational, not when Amelia is so far away, potentially back to being abused by her parents because we fucked up. “There’s nothing to think through,” I insist. “We’re going to London.”

I look at my friends, seeing the same determination reflected in their eyes.

No matter what it takes, we’ll find her and bring her home.