Chapter 130 A Legacy Of Rot And Ribbons

Chapter 130 A Legacy Of Rot And Ribbons
CHAPTER 130

A Legacy Of Rot And Ribbons

The silence in the bedroom was heavy, broken only by the sound of Anna’s ragged breathing.

She stared at the floor, her eyes wide with a visceral, gut-wrenching horror.

Spilled across the expensive rug were the disemboweled, rotting remains of a mother bird and her fledgling. The scent of decay, cloying and sweet, rose from the corpses, thick enough to taste.

The bedroom door swung open with a violent thud. Camille, Lillian, Brandon, and Oliver—the latter carrying a wide-awake Amari—burst into the room, their faces etched with alarm.

"Anna? What’s happened? We heard you scream halfway across the wing!" Brandon demanded.

“What's wrong?”

“Anna, are you okay?”

Anna couldn’t speak. She simply pointed a shaking, pale finger toward the foot of the bed.

As their gazes followed her gesture, a collective wave of revulsion rippled through the group.

Oliver’s reaction was instantaneous; he pivoted on his heel, shielding Amari’s face against his shoulder to protect her innocent eyes from the putrid tableau of death.

"Good Lord," he hissed, his voice vibrating with a dark, protective anger.

"Oh my God," Lillian gasped, her hand flying to her mouth.

"Good Lord, deliver us," Camille breathed, her face turning a sickly shade of ashen gray. "What kind of monster..."

"What sick, twisted individual thinks this is a 'gift'?" Brandon cussed, his eyes flashing with disgust as he stepped closer to the mess.

"This is beyond deranged."

"I wish I knew," Lillian whispered, her eyes fixed on the birds. “Who even has the time to be this cruel to poor little birdies?”

Oliver turned back slightly, his jaw set in a hard line.

"Anna, how did you get this? Did someone hand it to you? Do you know who sent it?"

"I don't know," Anna managed, her voice a thin, fragile thread. "I came out of the bathroom and it was just... there. Sitting in the center of the bed like a surprise. My name was written on the box."

Camille crossed the room immediately, sitting on the edge of the bed and pulling Anna into a soothing embrace.

She rubbed Anna's arm, her touch the only thing keeping Anna from shattering. "Easy, honey. Just breathe."

"Was there a note? A card? Anything?" Brandon asked, his hands on his hips as he paced the small space between the dresser and the rug.

"No," Anna replied, shaking her head. "Just the box."

"How did it even get in here?" Lillian asked, her voice rising in disbelief. "This is a private bedroom in a secured mansion. It didn't just walk through the walls."

"I'll find out," Camille said, her voice dropping into a dangerous, icy register. She stood and moved toward the door. "Tara! Tara, get in here now!"

Seconds later, the maid appeared, her eyes darting nervously between the gathered family members. When her gaze landed on the floor, she visibly recoiled, her face draining of color.

"Tara," Camille said, pointing to the mess. "Who received this package?"

"It... it was me, ma'am," Tara stammered, her voice trembling.

"Are you actually kidding me?" Oliver yelled, the frustration he’d been bottling up finally snapping.

"You received a mystery box and just brought it into a private bedroom? Are you a maid or a delivery accomplice? Use your head for something other than a hat rack!"

"I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!" Tara cried, her eyes welling with tears. "I didn't think—"

"Did the delivery person at least have the decency to leave a name behind?" Lillian interrupted, her tone sharp.

"No, ma'am," Tara sobbed. "He just said the sender was a close friend of Ma'am Anna's.

He said it was a surprise and that I should place it right on the bed so she’d see it the moment she walked in. I thought it was a present!"

Anna’s eyes, drawn back to the horror on the floor by some morbid magnetism, landed on something she hadn't noticed before. Tiny white silk ribbons were tied around the legs of the birds.

She leaned forward, squinting through her tears, and felt a fresh wave of ice-water through her veins as she read the delicate, handwritten script.

On the mother bird's leg: Anna. On the tiny fledgling’s leg: LittleAnna.

The world tilted. Anna’s hand flew to her mouth as her stomach churned violently.

Bile rose in her throat, burning and bitter. She scrambled off the bed and sprinted into the bathroom, dropping to her knees before the toilet.

She emptied the contents of her stomach until she was heaving for air, her body racked by violent, agonizing tremors.

Lillian and Camille were right behind her. Lillian reached out, expertly gathering Anna’s midnight hair and holding it back, while

Camille rubbed her back in slow, rhythmic circles. "Easy, easy," Camille whispered. "It’s okay. Just get it all out."

After a few minutes, Anna flushed the toilet and rinsed her mouth with trembling hands.

The two women led her back to the bedroom, where the atmosphere had turned from shocked to murderous.

"Why would you be so reckless, Tara?" Brandon’s voice was thunderous, his usual charm replaced by a cold, patriarchal fury.

"You received a package with no return address and brought it into the heart of this house. Do you have a death wish or are you just remarkably stupid?"

"I always knew there was something fundamentally vacant about this girl," Oliver muttered, gently patting Amari’s back as the baby began to fuss.

"I didn't know!" Tara wailed, her face buried in her hands. "I promise, I didn't know!"

"It could have been worse!" Brandon snapped, his eyes narrowing.

"What if that box had been a bomb? You would have leveled half this mansion while we were sleeping because you wanted to play courier for a stranger. Think, damn it!"

Tara collapsed into a fit of hysterical sobbing, her apologies becoming a garbled mess of words.

Anna, sitting back on the bed, looked at the girl with a hollow, tired empathy. "It's fine, Tara," she said, her voice sounding like it was coming from far away. "Just... it's fine."

"It is not fine," Camille corrected, turning to the maid.

"Tara, listen to me very carefully. You are never, under any circumstances, to accept a package for this house unless there is a verified name and a return address. Do you understand? If a stranger hands you a box, you call security. You do not touch it."

Tara nodded frantically. "Yes, ma'am. I understand. I’m so sorry."

"Clear this mess up," Brandon ordered, his voice echoing with irritation. "Now."

As Tara started to move, Oliver’s voice stopped her like a physical blow.

"If you repeat a mistake of this magnitude again, Tara, don't bother apologizing. I’ll fire you before you can finish the sentence. Do we have a deal?"

"Yes, Mr Oliver. Thank you. I’m so sorry." Tara hurried out to gather cleaning supplies, leaving a heavy silence in her wake.

"Who could have done this?" Lillian whispered, her voice laced with genuine shock. "To send something so... symbolic. It’s sick."

"I have no idea," Oliver replied, his eyes dark.

"But whoever it is just declared war on a Fairchild. That’s a very short-lived hobby."

Tara returned moments later, her hands gloved as she cleared away the remains. She sprayed a heavy, floral air freshener to dispel the cloying scent of rot and scurried out like the room was on fire.

"Are you okay, Anna?" Camille asked, her eyes searching Anna’s.

"I’m fine," Anna lied, her voice devoid of emotion. "Please... if you could all just excuse me. I need to get dressed. I have other things to do."

"Are you sure you’ll be okay?" Lillian asked, her forehead creased with worry.

"I’ll be fine," Anna said, offering a tight, forced smile that didn't reach her eyes.
Camille leaned in and kissed her temple.

"Don't hesitate to call me. If you need anything—anything at all, I’m just a room away."

Anna nodded as they filed out. The moment the door clicked shut, her phone began to vibrate on the nightstand.

She lunged for it, her heart leaping with the desperate hope that it was William. She didn't even check the screen before pressing it to her ear.

"William! Oh, thank God," she began, her voice frantic and breathless. "I just received the most horrible present. A dead mother bird and its baby... they were disemboweled, Liam. They had my name on them, and the baby’s name—"

"I see the delivery was successful," a smug, silk-wrapped voice cut in, dripping with a satisfaction that made Anna’s blood run cold.

"You’ve already opened my little gift."
Anna froze, the air leaving her lungs in a pained gasp. "Selene."

A low, melodic laugh drifted over the line. "Did you like it, Anna? I spent quite a bit of time finding a matching pair. I thought the symbolism was particularly... poignant. I truly wish that you and that parasitic little thing inside you end up exactly like those two birds. Gutted and discarded."

"You are a disgusting, hollowed-out excuse for a human being,"
Anna spat, her voice vibrating with a cold, concentrated rage. "To target an unborn child... you aren't just desperate, Selene. You're pathetic. You're a bottom-feeder playing at being a predator."

"Oh, call me whatever names you like, darling," Selene purred.

"It won't change the reality of your situation. Check your messages. I just sent you a little something to brighten your day. I think you'll find it much more aesthetic than the birds."

Anna pulled the phone from her ear, her thumb hovering over the screen. She opened the text message, and her eyes widened as white-hot fury replaced the fear.

The picture was high-definition and unmistakable. Selene, dressed in a skimpy, skin-tight outfit that left absolutely nothing to the imagination, was standing triumphantly in front of William's private residence in London.

She looked polished, beautiful, and utterly predatory.

Anna pressed the phone back to her ear.

"What is the meaning of this? You followed my husband all the way to London? How remarkably desperate can one woman be? Do you have a GPS tracker on his life or are you just a professional stalker now?"

"I just happened to be in London at the same time as William,"

Selene said, her voice an irritatingly bitchy lilt. "It must be fate trying to put us back together. The universe clearly knows who really belongs in his bed. And honestly, Anna? Look at you. You’re in New York—fat, unwanted, and hormonal. Meanwhile, I’m here, looking like this, in the same city as the man you think is yours."

Anna leaned against the dresser, her knuckles turning white as she gripped the phone.

Fate isn't trying to put you back together, Selene, she thought icily.

It's just giving me a convenient reason to erase you from the surface of the earth once and for all. You're drawing your own expiry date closer with every word.

"It must be so lonely for you," Selene continued, her tone condescending.

"Being stuck in that big mansion while your husband is over here in the cold. But don't you worry your little head. I’m very warm, and I intend to provide William with the kind of... company... that a pregnant wife simply can't."

"You’ll regret this, Selene," Anna said, her voice dropping into a chilling, determined register. "I am going to make sure that this is the last mistake you ever make. Enjoy the cold while you can."

"Oh, sweetheart. Threats from the discarded housewife? How adorable. I'm shaking in my Louboutins," Selene mocked, her laughter tinkling like broken glass.

"Goodbye, Anna. I’ll be sure to tell William you said hello—when he’s coming up for air."

The line went dead.

Anna stood in the center of the room, the silence of the bedroom now filled with a new, dark purpose.

Selene had crossed the final line. The birds were a threat; the trip to London was an invitation to a funeral.

"You really think you've won," Anna whispered to the empty room, her eyes flashing with a light that would have terrified William. "London is going to be the last place that bitch will ever see."

She picked up her phone and dialed a number she hadn't used in months. The call was picked up on the third ring.

"It’s Anna," she said, her voice as sharp as a scalpel. "I need your help with something. And I need the next available flight to London. Private, fast, and off the records. I have a pest problem that needs a permanent solution."