Chapter 93
Elara
Mamá opened her mouth to argue, but I pulled her back.
"It's fine, Mamá," I said. My voice was steady now. "I'll be there."
I took the summons from his hand, our fingers not quite touching.
Julian looked at me for a long moment. Something complicated moved behind his eyes—guilt? Doubt? Concern?
Then he rolled up the window and drove away.
Mamá crumpled against me, sobbing. "I'm useless. I can't protect you from anything..."
I held her, feeling the shaking of her thin shoulders, and wondered if this was what growth looked like.
My mother, finally finding her voice.
Me, finally learning I couldn't rely on anyone but myself.
Raven stood a few feet away, silent, her hand finding mine in quiet support.
---
The next morning, I arrived at the Manhattan precinct at 9:30 a.m.
Raven had insisted on coming despite my protests. She waited outside, pacing the sidewalk with her phone clutched tight.
The detective assigned to my case was a man in his fifties named Harris. White, tired-looking, with shrewd eyes that missed nothing.
He gestured to a chair. I sat.
"Miss Vance," he began, flipping open a file. "Walk me through the evening of the gala. What time did you arrive? Who did you speak with? Where did you go?"
I answered each question carefully, precisely. The timeline. The confrontation with Sloane. My altercation with Victoria and Anna in the hallway.
"And your relationship with Miss Kennedy," Detective Harris said. "Would you say you harbor animosity toward her?"
I met his gaze. "I have issues with Miss Kennedy plagiarizing my artwork and claiming it as her own. But that doesn't mean I'd poison her."
His eyebrow lifted. "So you admit there's conflict between you?"
"Conflict doesn't equal attempted murder," I said evenly. "I had no motive. No opportunity."
He leaned back in his chair. "According to Anna Petrova's statement, you approached her in the upstairs hallway. You told her you wanted 'Sloane Kennedy to suffer.' You gave her a small vial containing white powder. She says you told her to put it in Miss Kennedy's tea."
My stomach turned. The lie was so specific. So deliberate.
"Then produce this vial," I said. "Check it for my fingerprints. Show me any physical evidence."
"Miss Petrova claims she discarded the vial after using its contents."
"How convenient."
Detective Harris's expression didn't change. "She also states that she admired you. That she saw you as a victim of the Vane family's mistreatment. She was willing to help you without payment because she sympathized with your situation."
The story was airtight. Perfectly crafted.
"Then check her bank accounts," I said. "If she really did this out of sympathy, there should be no unusual deposits. No payments."
Harris's eyes flickered—the first sign of genuine interest.
"We'll look into it," he said.
But I could already hear the doubt in his voice.
---
They brought Anna in for a confrontation an hour later.
She looked embarrassed, her eyes red-rimmed, her hands twisting in her lap.
The moment she saw me, tears started streaming down her face.
"Miss Elara," she whispered. "Please. Just confess."
I stared at her, cold spreading through my chest.
"The Vane family won't let this go," Anna continued, her voice breaking. "We're nobodies. We can't fight them. If you just admit you made a mistake, they promised they'd go easy on you. Community service, maybe. I'd get enough money to move my family out of New York. We could both start over."
So that was the play. Get me to confess to something I didn't do, and everyone gets paid off except me.
"Who put you up to this?" I asked quietly. "Was it Sloane? Victoria?"
Anna shook her head frantically. "No one put me up to anything. I did it because I felt sorry for you. Your father died for that family, and they treat you like a servant."
She leaned forward, her voice dropping. "I wanted to help you. Miss Kennedy was always so smug, so perfect. I thought... I thought you deserved better."
"So you decided to poison her on my behalf?" I let the sarcasm bleed through. "Without asking me? Without telling me?"
"I—" Anna faltered. "I thought you'd appreciate it."
"Then you won't mind if we check your family's bank accounts," I said. "Since you did this purely out of sympathy, there should be no unexplained deposits."
Panic flashed across her face. "Don't involve my family!"
But she caught herself quickly, smoothing her expression. "Go ahead and check. You won't find anything."
Detective Harris cleared his throat. "We've already examined Miss Petrova's immediate family's accounts. There are no suspicious large deposits."
My heart sank.
Of course there weren't. Whoever orchestrated this had been too careful for something so obvious.
Anna saw my expression and smiled—just a tiny curve of her lips. "See, Miss Elara? I told you. I wasn't paid."
She leaned closer, her voice almost gentle. "Just confess. Take the deal. You'll get a slap on the wrist, some community service. I'll get enough money. We both win."
She paused. "You can't stay in that family anyway. Everyone knows Mr. Vane will marry Miss Kennedy. Why destroy yourself fighting a battle you've already lost?"
I looked at her—this woman who'd been convinced, or bribed, or blackmailed into framing me.
"I won't confess to something I didn't do," I said. My voice was quiet but absolute. "If the Vane family has the power to erase all financial trails, then I'll find other evidence. But I won't lie to save anyone's skin. Not theirs. Not yours. Not even my own."
Anna's face crumpled. "You're making a mistake."
"Maybe," I said. "But it'll be my mistake. Not one forced on me by people who think money can buy truth."
I stood. Looked at Detective Harris. "Are we done here?"
He studied me for a long moment. Then nodded. "For now. Don't leave the city."
I walked out of the precinct into the bright November sunlight.
Raven was waiting on the steps, her purple hair almost electric in the sun. When she saw me, relief flooded her face.
"How bad?" she asked.
"Bad," I admitted. "They've covered their tracks. Anna's family accounts are clean. No evidence except her word against mine."
Raven's jaw tightened. "So what now?"
I thought of Julian's face in the hospital hallway. The flicker of doubt in his eyes. The way he'd said, "If she's innocent, the investigation will prove it."
Was it possible he actually wanted the truth? Or was I just desperately searching for something that wasn't there?
I said slowly, "I'll find proof that won't disappear when the Vanes throw money at it."
Raven grinned, sharp and fierce. "Good. Tell me how I can help."