The Artifact
Copyright© 2025 by DB86
Chapter 2
My head was spinning, and every muscle in my body ached.
“Georgina, are you okay?” a male voice asked, gently.
“Yes, Daniel, I’m just a bit dizzy. I think I passed out when I touched the metal plate.”
“Daniel? Who the heck is Daniel?” the male voice asked, bewildered.
I looked up, doing my best to focus on the face hovering above me.
“Steve?” I blurted out, still disoriented. “What are you doing here? Did Daniel call you and Diana for help? He shouldn’t have bothered you two, I’m fine.”
“Who is Diana?”
I sat up, blinking rapidly as I looked around. There was no sign of Daniel or Diana.
“Diana is your wife, of course.”
Steve gave me a strange look. “I think you hit your head harder than I thought. Georgina, YOU are my wife.”
“What?”
I glanced down at my left hand. A wedding ring gleamed there. But it wasn’t mine.
What the hell was going on? Was I the butt of an elaborate Halloween prank?
No. Daniel hated pranks and practical jokes. He had been pranked too many times to be part of something like this.
“Mister Carter is going to be pissed, but I think I need to take you to the ER to get your head examined.”
“You’re telling me you didn’t marry Diana, but you married me, instead?”
“Who is this Diana person you keep bringing up? And Daniel? Who’s that?”
“Daniel is my husband,” I said quietly, beginning to feel the full weight of the confusion settling in.
He offered me a hand and helped me to my feet.
“Thanks, Steve,” I mumbled, brushing dirt off my jeans.
“I’m definitely taking you to the ER. I’ll call Mister Carter and let him know you won’t be with him tonight.”
“Wait, what does Marcus Carter have to do with anything?”
Steve froze and looked around nervously before hissing, “Don’t ever say that name! Not in town. Not where anyone can hear you. Maximilian has eyes and ears everywhere. You know how much he hates his brother Marcus.”
I blinked, stunned. “Maximilian? But ... he’s dead. He died years ago of cancer. That’s the reason Marcus came back to Middletown.”
“Maximilian dead?” Steve gave a bitter laugh. “You and half the town wish that were true. But no, he’s very much alive, and we’re all living in his shadow.”
I took a shaky breath. “Steve, this is going to sound insane, but before I hit my head, I was married to Daniel. You were married to Diana. And Maximilian Carter was dead.”
Steve stared at me, suspicion darkening his features. “Are you serious?”
“Dead serious. I need to ask you a few questions. They’re going to sound strange, but I need answers.”
“All right. But let’s talk in the car. We need to be back in Middletown before curfew.”
“Curfew?”
Steve pressed his lips together. “As in, be home by a certain time or get stopped by the patrols.”
“Why would Sheriff Thomas care if we’re out late?”
“I don’t know who that is. We had a deputy named Bert Thomas, but he got shot during a confrontation with robbers. Everyone suspects Maximilian ordered the hit, Bert wouldn’t follow his rules. No investigation. No justice.”
I felt like the world had tilted sideways. “This is a nightmare.”
“You’re telling me.”
We got into the car. As we drove, I barely recognized the landscape. A massive hotel complex sprawled across the lake’s edge, the waters once clear were murky brown with pollution.
“You still haven’t told me—why do you have to report to Maximilian that I hit my head?”
“Because tonight is your night with him.”
I stared at him. “What exactly do you mean by ’my night with him’?”
Steve sighed, a painful weariness in his eyes. “What do you think it means? Georgina, this amnesia game you’re playing stopped being funny. Every Tuesday and Thursday, you go to his mansion and ... well, you can imagine the rest.”
“What?! No! What kind of person do you think I am? Steve, I’m not playing any game. I swear. This is as confusing to me as it is to you.”
He eyed me with a puzzled expression.
“The kind of person a monster like Maximilian forces to be his mistress,” he said softly. “I hate it, too. But what choice do I have? I don’t want to end up like Bert Thomas ... or John Harding.”
“John Harding? Red’s father? What happened to him?”
“Another ‘botched mugging.’” Steve made air quotes. “But everyone knows Maximilian had him killed. John was in love with Mr. Carter’s daughter, Molly.”
“What happened to Molly?”
He shrugged. “No one knows. She never came back to Middletown. Some people say that she is hiding somewhere in Europe. Maximilian has people looking for her. I hope he never finds her.”
It felt like one of those rare and extraordinary experiences that would occur just before you wake up, when you were consciously aware that you were asleep and dreaming, and the dream would feel impossibly real.
“I have to wake up. I have to wake up now,” I muttered, pinching my arm hard.
“It’s not a dream, this nightmare is very real. Trust me.”
As we entered Middletown, I could hardly believe my eyes.
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