Chapter 30 A Bitter Revelation and a Message from the Shadows
“Father?” Martha looked up. Her face was deathly pale, her eyes brimming with tears.
“You don’t need him,” she said loudly, as if trying to convince herself. “I was enough for you. Your mother was enough. You grew up just fine without him.”
“Then,” Ezra said, his voice quiet yet piercing, “why is it that every time I mention the word ‘father,’ you look like you want to run away from the question?”
Martha fell silent. A heavy stillness pressed against both their chests.
“I met someone,” Ezra continued. “Someone who makes me feel… strange. As if I’ve known him before I even truly met him.”
Martha froze.
“And every time I see him,” Ezra went on, “there is an unexplainable anger. And an even greater curiosity.”
“Ezra…” Martha’s voice trembled.
“His name is Adrian,” Ezra said.
Martha’s composure collapsed instantly. There were no more denials. No more walls to defend.
“You’ve met him?” Martha whispered.
Ezra nodded slowly. “So, it’s true.”
Martha covered her face with both hands. Her shoulders shook as the sobs she had suppressed for years finally broke loose.
“I wanted to protect you,” she wailed. “I swear, Ezra. I wanted you to live without that man’s shadow.”
Ezra stepped closer. “So it really is him? Why? What did he do to Mother?”
Martha shook her head. “He… he loved her. Or at least, that’s what he said.”
“And then?”
“And then he left,” Martha’s voice cracked. “He abandoned her when your mother was pregnant. He chose his own life. His career. His future. And he married another woman.”
Ezra felt a cold sensation crawling through his chest.
“His name is Adrian,” Martha continued faintly. “It’s true. Adrian is your biological father.”
Ezra’s world seemed to grind to a halt.
The name echoed in his head. Adrian. The same man. The husband of the woman who had been occupying his thoughts lately. The man whose gaze was always full of hatred every time their eyes met.
At first, Ezra thought it was just his own prejudice. But he remembered hearing his mother utter that name before she passed away. After her death, Ezra had tried to find out who this "Adrian" was, the man who had been close to his mother during their college days.
“Does he know about me?” Ezra asked, his voice barely a whisper.
Martha nodded slowly. “He knows.”
Ezra gave a short, hollow laugh. It wasn’t a laugh of joy. It wasn’t a laugh of anger. It was a void of a laugh, born from something that had completely collapsed.
“So… he knows,” he muttered. “And he still let me live like this.”
Martha moved closer, gripping Ezra’s arm. “You are not like him. Do not become like him.”
“I won’t,” he said quietly. “I will not be a man who abandons the woman he destroyed.”
He lifted his face. His gaze was now dark, cold, and filled with resolve.
“But I also won’t let him continue living as if nothing ever happened.”
Martha gasped. “Ezra, don't...”
“It’s too late,” Ezra replied calmly. “Everything is already in motion. And now I know who must be held responsible.”
That night, Aveline remained wide awake.
She lay in the same bed as Adrian, the man who had been her husband for years, the man who had finally… for the first time in so long… touched her again. That touch should have brought warmth. It should have been comforting. Yet, all that remained was a sense of alienation, like wearing old clothes that no longer fit her body.
Adrian was fast asleep. His breathing was steady, his back turned toward her, as if he had built an invisible wall between them again. Aveline stared at the silhouette of his shoulders in the dark. Their intimacy hours ago felt like a desperate attempt. Not an expression of love, but a raw need to feel normal again.
And Aveline knew her heart wasn't in it.
Her mind kept spinning. About Ezra. About Selina. About the photo in the drawer. About Adrian’s half-honest, half-vague confession. About the lies piled upon one another, forming a wall that grew higher between them.
She took a soft breath and rose from the bed without a sound. Her feet touched the cold floor as she stepped out of the room, closing the door carefully.
The living room greeted her with a thick, heavy silence. Aveline sat on the sofa, pulling a thin blanket over her shoulders. Her hand reached for her phone on the table. A reflex, as if she already knew what she was looking for, though she wasn't sure what she would find.
She opened her email.
There were no new messages. She swallowed a small bit of disappointment and went to lock the screen. But before the phone went dark, a notification popped up. The soft chime felt jarringly loud in the silent room.
One new email.
From: Artemisblue
The message was brief. Too brief.
Do not search any further. If my suspicion is correct, you are already too close to the murderer. Stay away. For your own safety.
Aveline’s eyes widened. Her breath hitched in her throat. The words felt cold, as if composed by a calm head and a steady hand. No emotion. No explanation. Only a warning.
Murderer.
Who was the murderer? Ezra? Adrian? Or someone else Aveline had never even considered?
She re-read the message. Again and again. Searching for a hidden clue. But there was nothing but a vague threat and a creeping fear.
Her mind immediately jumped uncontrollably to one name. Ezra.
His calm face flashed in her mind. That gaze that always seemed to know more. The way he looked at her was unlike how anyone else did. But then that image blurred with another. Adrian, with his irrational anger whenever Ezra's name was mentioned. With the old photo, he hid. With the lies that felt like they were stacking up.
If my suspicion is correct, you are already too close to the murderer.
The sentence was like a blade pressed gently against the skin of her neck. It didn't cut, but it was close enough that she didn't dare move.
She wanted to reply and ask. But her finger stopped in mid-air. An instinct held her back, a feeling that one wrong step could drag her deeper into something she couldn't control.
Aveline closed her eyes. An image of Liam suddenly appeared. His voice in her dreams. Daddy did something to me, Mommy...
Don't trust anyone.
She snapped her eyes open.
Those words now felt like a warning that came too late, yet also a perfect clue. If she was too close to the murderer, then the murderer was someone very close to her. Someone she trusted. Or someone who made her feel safe.
She turned slowly toward the bedroom. She stared at that closed door with eyes now filled with doubt, imagining Adrian sleeping soundly behind it.
If the murderer was truly close… then she was certain of one thing. The danger was not out there.