Flora's POV
The room felt colder than it should have, even with the windows shut tight. I sat on the edge of the bed, my mind replaying the chaotic events of the morning like a broken record. Lucian’s orders had been clear: stay in the room, don’t speak to anyone, and wait. Wait for what? For more accusations? For the verdict on whether I’d live or die in this twisted house?
The walls seemed to close in, and the muffled sounds from the hallway made my nerves tingle. I couldn’t make out the words, but the tone was unmistakably tense. The doctor’s voice occasionally rose above the others, and I caught fragments about poison and long-term effects. My stomach churned.
I thought about Lucian’s son—the boy, barely older than a teenager, slumping to the floor in pain. The image wouldn’t leave me. Who could’ve done such a thing? More importantly, why? I had barely been in this house long enough to learn everyone’s names, yet suspicion already clung to me like a second skin.
Time crawled by as I sat there, restless and unable to shake the unease settling in my chest. Then came the knock—a firm, deliberate sound that sent a shiver down my spine. I stiffened, my breath catching as the door creaked open.
Expecting Lucian’s stormy presence, I was caught off guard when Jonathan slipped inside instead. He shut the door quickly behind him, his movements urgent and precise.
“Jonathan?” I whispered, confused. His usual calm demeanor was replaced by something far more serious.
He crossed the room in two strides, crouching in front of me. “Dahlia,” he began, his voice low but intense. “We don’t have much time. Lucian’s son... he’s not going to make it.”
The words hit me like a punch to the gut. “What?”
Jonathan nodded grimly. “The doctor says the poison wasn’t a one-time thing. It’s been in his system for a while, building up. It’s too late to save him now.”
A lump formed in my throat, but I managed to croak out, “And what does that have to do with me?”
He hesitated, his dark eyes searching mine. “Everything. They’re going to pin this on you, Dahlia. It doesn’t matter if you did it or not. You’re the outsider, the easiest target.”
I felt a surge of anger and fear. “How do you know I didn’t do it?”
Jonathan’s lips curved into a faint, almost sad smile. “Because I know who did.”
His cryptic response only fueled my frustration. “Jonathan, if you know something, tell me now! Who—”
He cut me off, grabbing my arm firmly but not harshly. “There’s no time for explanations. We need to leave. Now.”
I pulled back slightly, torn between fear and disbelief. “Leave? Just like that? And go where?”
“I’ll explain everything, but not here,” he said, urgency dripping from every word. “If you stay, you’re as good as dead.”
Something in his tone silenced my protests, and I found myself nodding despite the chaos swirling in my mind. Jonathan stood, pulling me to my feet. He moved swiftly to the door, cracking it open just enough to peek outside.
“The hallway’s clear,” he whispered. “Stay close to me.”
We slipped out, my heart hammering in my chest as we moved through the mansion. The silence was unnerving. No guards patrolled, no voices echoed through the grand halls. It was as if the house itself was holding its breath.
“Where is everyone?” I whispered, unable to shake the feeling that we were walking into a trap.
“Distracted,” Jonathan replied curtly. “Don’t ask questions. Just keep moving.”
We reached the front door, and to my astonishment, no one stopped us. Jonathan pushed it open, leading me out into the crisp evening air. A sleek black car waited in the driveway, its engine idling softly.
“Get in,” he ordered, his tone brooking no argument.
I slid into the passenger seat, and he climbed into the driver’s side, slamming the door shut. The car sped off before I had a chance to process what was happening.
The mansion disappeared into the distance, replaced by winding roads and the dark silhouettes of trees. I glanced at Jonathan, his jaw tight and his eyes fixed on the road ahead.
“Where are we going?” I finally asked, breaking the heavy silence.
“My house,” he said simply. “It’s on the outskirts of town. We’ll be safe there.”
I nodded slowly, though a million questions still burned in my mind.
Minutes passed, the tension in the car thick enough to cut with a knife. Finally, I couldn’t hold back any longer. “Why are you helping me?”
Jonathan’s grip on the steering wheel tightened, and he glanced at me briefly before returning his focus to the road. “Because you don’t deserve what’s coming for you.”
I frowned, unsatisfied with his vague response. “That’s not an answer. Why are you so sure I’m innocent? You don’t even know me.”
His lips twitched into a wry smile, but there was no humor in it. “Oh, I know you, Dahlia. Better than you think.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
He exhaled sharply, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the wheel. “It means I’m the one who poisoned him.”
The confession hit me like a freight train. My mouth opened, but no words came out. I stared at him, trying to make sense of what I’d just heard.
“You?” I finally managed to whisper.
Jonathan nodded, his expression unreadable. “Yes. And before you ask why, let me make one thing clear: Lucian isn’t the man you think he is. None of them are.”
My mind raced, trying to piece together the fragments of information. “But why his son? What did he do to you?”
“It’s not about what he did to me,” Jonathan said, his voice low and laced with bitterness. “It’s about what he represents. Lucian’s empire is built on lies, betrayal, and bloodshed. That boy was next in line to inherit it all.”
I shook my head, struggling to comprehend his words. “So you killed him to… what? Send a message?”
“To dismantle the system,” he corrected. “One piece at a time.”
The car fell silent as his words sank in. I leaned back in my seat. “Who was this man?”