A/N: Hey everyone! This is my first venture into writing Fanfiction for Revenge. It's slightly A/U though I'm planning on following Season 3 starting with the episode Confession. Feel free to Read and Review! And I own nothing but Genevieve!

It was four in the morning when the phone rang. Outside, the Chicago night was just starting to pick up as those whose jobs started at the crack of dawn began to get ready for the day. Me, my job didn't require me to stroll in until eight at the earliest, making a four a.m. phone call something I didn't look forward to. However, running a media empire, also meant that four in the morning phone calls weren't something to be ignore either.

My hand reached blindly towards the buzzing phone, and my tired eyes barely discerned the words "Unknown Caller" flashing on the screen. Any other time, I'd of ignored a call from an unknown caller, but these days, and at this hour of the morning, ignoring the call didn't seem like a good idea.

"Genevieve Ramston," I answered, doing my best to hide the sleepiness in my voice. Next to me, my husband rolled over. He was a sound sleeper, and was used to late night calls from editors panicking about deadlines. He had learned long ago to just turn over and go back to sleep when I answered, and today seemed no different. However, it was, as the words that crackled out from the phone were not ones I had been expecting to hear.

"She needs your help," I frowned, using the hand not holding the phone to wipe at my face, trying to wake myself up a little more.

"Who? Who is this?" I asked, not recognizing the male voice on the other end of the line. Usually, my panicked editors identified themselves by now, or my sources were a little more specific about why they were calling. This call seemed vague, and that was confusing me, more so due to the early hour at which they were calling.

"Amanda," That had my body snapping to full attention, and I moved to sit upright in the bed.

"Nolan?" I asked, knowing that the only person who ever called to tell me about my sister was Nolan. He was the one charged with watching out for her by both my father and me. When my sister had been in juvie, and I had been stuck in a Swiss boarding school, my father had trusted Nolan to watch over Amanda, and I had trusted Nolan to watch over Amanda when she got out, especially since she didn't seem to want anything to do with me.

"No. She needs your help." I glanced at the clock. In the Hamptons, it had to be a little after five. Definitely not Nolan, though the caller had already said that.

"Who is this? Why does she need my help?" The caller made a sound that I guessed was annoyed.

"I can't talk anymore. She needs you, she's in danger," With that the phone went dead in my ear. I waited a moment though, expecting someone to come back on the line, tell me what was happening with my little sister. Except another sound wasn't made, just the tone letting me know that my phone call was over.

I pulled myself out of bed, my pounding heart letting me know I wasn't going to sleep any longer. My husband didn't even stir as I went into the bathroom, flipping on the lights to stare at myself in the mirror, noticing the resemblance between myself, and the sister I hadn't seen since I was twelve years old, almost immediately. Like my sister, I had brown eyes, eyes we both got from our father. Unlike her, my hair was a chestnut brown, the same color as my mother's. But our faces were similar, something my father used to say marked us as sisters even if we had different mothers. I used to think having a different mother would make us different, but what we went through I always believed meant we were the same.

Unfortunately, my sister didn't see it that way. Her letters to me out of juvie, written just before my father's death and her release, told me that much. She blamed me for her predicament, and worse than that, she hated me for having the life she didn't get. Where she bounced between foster homes during the trial, I was whisked away to Switzerland by my mother to attend a private boarding school, far from the prying eyes of the public and the grasp of people she believed may try to harm me simply because my last name was Clarke, the same as an accused terrorist. Amanda also told me she hated me because I went by my mother's last name after the conviction, unwilling to understand that my mother hadn't given me much chose in the matter. It hadn't just been my father that had been betrayed that night, but her as well.

My mother, she was the only daughter, and heiress, to a media empire my great-grandfather had begun in the early nineteen hundreds. At the time, he had simply created a newspaper, which my grandfather turned into a media empire that also included a publicity company. It had been in that company that my parents met. My mother had been interning at the same time as my father. Both were in college, and both hadn't been ready for a child. Fate's funny like that. I entered the world just as my parents were calling it quits, my mother's free spirit not interested in being tied down because of me. My father understood, and both did their best to give me a normal life.

I was four when Amanda was born, and I had been ecstatic at the time. I had always wanted a sibling, and even if Amanda was my half-sister, she was still my sister, one I saw as often as I could between visits with my mother and my grandparents. I had been there the summer my father was taken. My mother had been in Paris, running the fashion half of my grandfather's empire when my father was arrested. My sister and I were dragged from the house screaming that night. I still remember her screaming for my father, while I screamed for her. I didn't want to be separated, but sadly, that night was the last time I saw her. Since my mother had partial custody of me, I was immediately sent to be with her. Amanda didn't have anyone else, so she was put into the system, and despite my mother's best efforts she remained there, something she still blames me for.

Her blame hasn't kept me from being her sister though, and Nolan had been my saving grace. My father must of realized Amanda would be upset about my life, and asked Nolan to watch over both of us, Amanda more than me. I was always okay on my own he told Nolan, but Amanda would need someone. It had been Nolan that told me when Amanda resurfaced in the Hampton's under another name, and he who told me about the switch. But I hadn't heard anything from him in a while, and I thought that meant Amanda was just starting over. But now, well now I wondered if a call to Nolan was in order.