Chapter 89
Elara
On the walls, oil paintings of elegant aristocrats seemed to smile down at me with cold amusement. The chandelier's light turned the marble floor into an ice field.
But my shadow remained upright. Defiant.
6 AM.
The first maid entered the hall, gasped at the sight of me, and scurried away to alert others.
I'd knelt for nine hours. The champagne dress was wrinkled and damp with cold sweat. My hair hung in tangled strands. My face must have looked corpse-pale, lips purple.
But my spine stayed straight.
An engine roared up the drive. A black car skidded to a stop on the gravel, tires screaming.
Julian emerged, suit rumpled, tie loosened, exhaustion carved into every line of his face. But his eyes burned with suppressed fury.
He strode into the hall where Mr. Vane Senior, Tristan, Victoria, and several staff—including Anna—had already gathered.
Mr. Vane Senior rose from his chair the moment Julian appeared, leaning heavily on his cane. "Julian! How is Sloane? And the baby—tell me the baby is all right!"
The old man's voice cracked on the last word. His hand trembled on the cane's handle.
"Both stable." Julian's voice was flat with exhaustion. "The doctor said it was a severe allergic reaction. Sloane's out of immediate danger. They're monitoring her closely, but..." He paused. "The baby's fine. No complications so far."
Relief flooded Mr. Vane Senior's face. He sank back into his chair, one hand pressed to his chest. "Thank God. Thank God. My great-grandchild..."
Tristan stepped forward, his usual composed mask cracking. "But Sloane herself—is she in pain? Did they say how long before she can come home?" His voice held an edge of barely controlled panic. "I should go to the hospital. She shouldn't be alone—"
"She's not alone." Julian's tone went cold. "I stayed with her all night."
Something flickered across Tristan's face—jealousy, frustration, helplessness all at once. His hands clenched at his sides.
"Of course. Of course you did." He turned away, jaw tight. "But still, someone from the family should—"
"I said she's fine, Tristan." Julian's words cut like a blade. "The doctors have it under control."
Victoria had been lounging against the doorframe, examining her manicure with studied boredom. Now she glanced toward the center of the hall where I still knelt, and a slow, vicious smile spread across her face.
"Well, well. The little thief is still here." She sauntered closer, circling me like a shark. "Look at you, Elara. You look absolutely pathetic. Hair like a rat's nest, makeup all smeared... is that drool on your chin?"
I kept my eyes forward, refusing to give her the satisfaction of a response.
"I mean, I knew you were desperate to get rid of Sloane, but poisoning?" Victoria laughed, high and cruel. "That's so tacky. So... lower class. Couldn't even come up with something clever. Just straight to attempted murder."
She crouched down, bringing her face level with mine. Her breath smelled like champagne and malice.
"You know what's funny?" she whispered, loud enough for everyone to hear. "You actually thought you belonged here. Wearing that pretty dress Julian gave you, walking down those stairs like you were somebody." Her finger jabbed toward my chest. "But you're not. You never were. You're just the help's daughter. And now everyone knows exactly what you really are—a vicious, ungrateful little snake."
"Victoria, enough." Mr. Vane Senior's voice held warning.
"What? I'm just stating facts, Grandfather." Victoria stood, smoothing her designer dress. "She tried to kill Sloane and Julian's baby. Our family's heir. She should be in jail, not just kneeling on the floor."
"I DIDN'T DO IT!" The words exploded from me before I could stop them.
Victoria's smile widened. "See? Still lying. Still playing innocent." She turned to Julian. "Brother, you really need to do something about her. She's becoming a liability."
Julian's jaw clenched, fists tight at his sides. I could see him processing everything—Anna's accusation, Sloane's condition, the baby, my denial.
The anger in his eyes was palpable.
"Where is she?" His voice dropped to something dangerous.
Victoria gestured lazily toward me. "Right where Grandfather put her. Kneeling like the criminal she is."
Julian's eyes found me.
He froze mid-step.
In the dawn light, I must have looked like a ghost. The wrinkled dress clinging to my shivering frame. Hair hanging in messy tangles. Hands pressed white-knuckled against my thighs. A small puddle had formed beneath me—condensation or tears, I didn't know anymore.
But my back remained unbowed.
I heard the engine, heard footsteps. Slowly, I raised my head.
I used every ounce of remaining strength to push myself upright. My legs buckled immediately, pins and needles exploding through both limbs. I swayed, nearly fell.
Julian moved instinctively forward. My eyes stopped him cold.
Once steady, I looked around the room—Mr. Vane Senior, clutching his cane with trembling hands; Tristan, still vibrating with suppressed emotion about Sloane; Victoria, smirking like she'd won the lottery; Anna, cowering in the corner; and Julian, exhaustion and fury warring on his face.
I looked like hell. But my eyes were sharp as knives.
"I didn't do it." My voice came out hoarse but firm. "No matter how long you make me kneel, I won't confess to something I didn't do."
"The evidence is clear—" Mr. Vane Senior started.
"What evidence?" I cut him off, staring him down. "One servant's accusation?"
I turned to Anna. "You claim I told you to poison Sloane in the upstairs hallway. When exactly did I say this? What were my exact words? Do you have a recording? A text message? A bank transfer showing I paid you?"
Anna's face went pale. "I... I don't have a recording, but you definitely said—"
"Definitely said what?" My laugh was bitter. "Because I remember confronting you about stealing wine. You threatened me—'you just wait'—and left. That's your so-called instruction to poison someone?"
Anna stammered, clearly not expecting me to fight back publicly.
Mr. Vane Senior frowned. "Anna, is what she's saying true?"
"Sir, I... I didn't—"
"And where's your logical chain?" I pressed on, voice strengthening. "When did Sloane drink this tea? Who served it? Are my fingerprints on the cup? Where did the poison come from? How would I even obtain an allergen? Anna, if I supposedly told you to do this, when did I give you the substance? Where did we meet?"
Each question landed like a hammer blow. I saw doubt creeping into faces around the room.
Even Julian's expression shifted—she's right. If Elara had orchestrated this, where was the evidence trail?
Victoria's smirk faltered. "Oh please, like we need a full investigation. She obviously—"
"I'll investigate this matter thoroughly." Julian's voice cut through the murmurs. "If it really was Elara, I won't protect her. But if it wasn't... we won't let the real culprit go unpunished."
"I don't need you to investigate." I met his eyes steadily. "I'll find the truth myself. Clear my own name."
I looked at Anna last. "You'd better pray I don't find proof of who put you up to this. Because when I do... I won't forgive anyone involved."
Mr. Vane Senior's face darkened. "Fine! Investigate then! But Elara, if we discover you're guilty, there will be hell to pay!"