Hundred and eighteen

I didn’t go home that night.

After reading Henry’s brother's autopsy report over and over until the words etched themselves into my brain, I drove to a twenty-four-hour diner on the outskirts of the city. I needed somewhere quiet, somewhere public. Somewhere I could breathe. I parked in the back, entered through the side door, and slid into a corner booth with a view of both exits.

The waitress came over, a tired woman with graying hair and kind eyes, and I ordered black coffee. When she returned, I asked if I could keep the refills coming. She nodded without question.

I didn’t touch the coffee.

Instead, I stared at the table, my fingers trembling. My mind couldn’t settle. I kept going back to the moment I stepped into my mother’s house, the way the front door creaked slightly, barely noticeable, but enough to make me pause. The living room had been too quiet, like it was holding its breath. And then I saw it. The file. Deliberately placed. As if someone had wanted me to find it.

Why?

Why would someone go through the trouble of planting it unless they wanted me to know? Unless they were warning me... or playing with me?

The text I received still sat on my phone like a splinter. You're next.

I tried to remember everything about the night Henry died. I squeezed my eyes shut and forced myself to go back. The fear, the chaos, the unanswered questions. I’d believed the official story: engine failure, an air accident. The way people spoke about it at the funeral, so calm, so resolved. But now, it all felt like a lie dressed in grief.

Strangled...

The word echoed like a scream inside my skull.

Someone killed him. Someone close enough to get near him. Someone powerful enough to rewrite the narrative. My fingers gripped the edge of the table, knuckles white. Could it have been someone we both knew? Someone in the family? Someone in the business?

Then came the next wave of memories, my mother.

Her death had shocked me, but I had accepted it. A tragic car accident. Clean. Sudden. A single phone call that flipped my world upside down. But what if it wasn’t random? What if she had known something? What if she had gotten too close to the truth about Henry?

She had been digging. I remembered her office, the locked drawer, the files. She had been investigating something, Henry’s brother, Ethan, the tangled mess of legal battles and closed-door conversations.

What if she had found the same file I just read? What if she was silenced? My stomach churned... What if the same person who killed Henry killed her too?

I covered my mouth, trying not to let the nausea take over. My heart raced as the pieces started to form a shape, but not one I understood yet. Too many shadows. Too many faces.

Was it Ethan?

No... not just him. He was cunning, manipulative... but something about this felt larger. Deeper. Like someone was pulling his strings too.

Could it be Alexandra?

I had always been cautious of her. The way she smiled too tightly. Her watchful eyes. The way she always knew more than she let on. And then there was Tristan.

Tristan... the name alone sent a jolt through my spine. He had vanished without a trace. No closure. Just gone. A ghost in the middle of a storm. And with him, he’d taken secrets I was never supposed to know.

My hands were shaking now. I tried to breathe, but the weight of it all was crushing. Henry. My mother. The threats. The lies. The haunting possibility that this was all orchestrated by someone we trusted.

I didn’t want to believe it.

But something in my gut told me I had to start.

I left the diner, the cold air hitting me like a slap. The sky above was heavy with storm clouds, a mirror of everything boiling inside me. I had no answers. Only questions. But one thing was certain now, I wasn’t safe. Not until I found out who was behind all of this.

And I would, even if it broke me, even if the truth was worse than the silence. When I got back to the estate, the hallways were quiet, almost too quiet. I walked slowly, careful not to make a sound. The weight of what I knew settled into my bones like lead.

That’s when I heard it, Aexandra’s voice.

"No, not yet... She doesn’t suspect a thing," she said, her voice low, urgent. "But we’ll have to move faster. If she finds out—"

I crept closer, heart hammering. Who was she talking to? Was it Ethan? Was it someone else? I could only hear half of the conversation, but every word was a knife against my nerves.

"Yes. I’ll make sure it’s handled."

Handled... The word made my skin crawl... I leaned closer, barely breathing. Every nerve in my body was on fire.

"She won’t be a problem much longer."

A chill ran down my spine. My mouth went dry. I backed up slowly, intending to leave before she noticed me, but I had barely taken a step when I felt a presence behind me.

"You shouldn’t be eavesdropping, Sophia."

I froze... The voice was behind me... Familiar... Impossible.

I turned slowly... And there he was.

Tristan.

Standing in the hallway like he’d never left. Calm. Collected. Alive.

He looked older. Sharper. His jaw was more defined, his eyes colder, like life had taught him how to be ruthless. He wore a black coat, tailored perfectly to his tall frame. There wasn’t a single emotion in his expression, just a faint smirk playing at the corner of his mouth, like he’d been watching me unravel.

I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move. My breath caught in my throat. My vision blurred.

"You?" he said, and the sound of his voice, so casually cruel, rattled through my bones.