Chapter 126 They murdered them

Chapter 126 They murdered them
DANDELION.

"Who could possibly be visiting me?" I whispered, looking at the young staff standing nervously in the doorway of my guest room.

I glanced quickly at Lilian. She sat on the edge of the bed, her protective instincts immediately flaring up. She crossed her arms tightly over her chest, eyeing the open doorway with suspicion.

"She said her name is Martha, ma'am," the young staff clarified, keeping her voice low. "She looks very frail. The guards had to give her a seat, and she is not carrying any weapons. Just a thick paper envelope."

Martha?.

My breath caught painfully in my throat. I had not heard that name in over a decade. Martha was my old nanny. Although I didn't really remember her because it's been a really long time.

She was the kind, gentle woman who used to braid my hair and sing me to sleep when my stepmom and siblings bullied me, Martha had suddenly packed her bags and left the Williams estate one day, She never even said goodbye.

"Bring her up to the private sitting room down the hall," I instructed, pushing myself off the bed. My legs felt unsteady.

Lilian stood up immediately, grabbing my arm to support my weight. "I am coming with you. I do not like random people showing up at the gate, especially after everything Grey put you through."

"It is okay, Lily," I assured her, though my own heart pounded frantically against my ribs. "She is just an old woman. She basically raised me."

We walked slowly down the wide, quiet hallway of the Graham Estate. The private sitting room was flooded with bright afternoon sunlight.

Martha stood near the large window. She looked so small. Her gray hair was pulled back into a messy bun, and her shoulders were heavily hunched beneath a worn brown coat. She clutched a thick, faded yellow manila envelope tightly against her chest, her hands slightly shaking.

"Martha?" I called out softly, stepping into the room.

The old woman spun around. Her faded brown eyes widened in surprise, tten panic the second she saw me. She looked absolutely terrified.

"Dandelion," Martha called out. Hot tears instantly filled her eyes, spilling over her deeply lined cheeks.

I took a cautious step forward, wanting to comfort her. "Martha, what is wrong? Why are you crying?"

She did not step toward me. She actually backed away, hitting her spine against the window frame. She held the thick yellow envelope out in front of her with trembling hands.

"I am so sorry, my sweet girl," Martha sobbed, refusing to meet my eyes. "I should have brought this to you years ago. I should have gone straight to the police. But I was so afraid. They threatened me. They told me if I ever spoke a single word, I would end up exactly like your mother."

It immediately felt like a massive, block of ice dropped directly on my head.

"Like my mother?" I asked, feeling confused. "Martha, my mother died in a car accident. What are you talking about?"

Martha shook her head frantically. She placed the envelope onto the small glass coffee table between us.

"I stole these from her private desk the night I ran away," Martha whimpered, "I could not carry the guilt anymore, Dandelion. You deserve to know the truth. You are old enough now, you need to get justice. You need to know what she did."

"What--who did? Martha what are you talking about." Lilian demanded, stepping closer to her. "Who threatened you?"

Martha did not answer. Instead she turned around and practically ran out of the sitting room. We heard her uneven, frantic footsteps hurrying down the hallway toward the exit.

I stood completely frozen in the center of the room. I stared down at the faded yellow envelope resting on the glass table. It looked entirely harmless, but it felt like a ticking bomb waiting to completely destroy whatever was left of my shattered life.

"Dandy," Lilian murmured, placing a warm hand gently on my shoulder. "Do you want me to call security? We do not have to open that."

"No," I whispered, my voice barely above whisper.

I stepped around Lilian and walked slowly toward the table. My hands shook so badly as I took the envelope. I pulled the flap open and tipped the envelope upside down.

Dozens of folded papers, printed emails, and bank statements spilled out onto the glass surface. A small, faded yellow sticky note was attached to the top page. The word EVIDENCE was written across it in what I recognized was Martha's shaky handwriting.

I picked up the first document. It was a printed log of private meetings. The dates printed on the side of the page were from years ago. Exactly one month before the horrific car crash that took my mother's life.

I read the names listed on the meeting log.

Margaret Williams.
Viola Graham.

My brow furrowed in deep confusion. Margaret was my stepmother. Viola was Alexander's stepmother, the woman who had happily taken over the Graham Estate as the hostess after his own mother, Flora, died. Why were they meeting in private? I never even knew they were friends.

I set the log down and picked up a stack of printed emails. The nausea rising in my throat was no longer just from my pregnancy. It was a dark, terrifying dread wrapping around my throat.

The first email was sent from Margaret's private account to Viola.

"Viola, Genevieve is finalizing the new will with Maxwell next week. If we do not act immediately, she will lock the inheritance entirely in a trust for Dandelion. I will be left with absolutely nothing."

I read the words three times, my brain completely failing to process the cruelty on the page.

So Margaret had been actively plotting against my mother before she even married my father.

I looked at Viola's printed reply.

"The plan is already in motion, Margaret. Just be patient, Flora is taking the mountain route to the Charity gala this weekend. She is taking Genevieve with her. The mechanic has already received the first half of his payment. The brakes will fail on the mountain cliff. Make sure you have your mourning dress ready."

The paper suddenly slipped through my trembling fingers. It fluttered quietly to the floor, landing right on top of my bare feet.

"Dandy?" Lilian called, in panic. "What is it? What does it say?"

I could not speak. I could not breathe.

I collapsed heavily onto the soft sofa, dragging the rest of the documents into my lap. I quickly searched through the pages in desperation. There were hidden bank transfers from Viola Graham's account to a local auto repair shop. There were text message transcripts discussing how to pay off the local police chief to completely skip the vehicle inspection after the crash.

"We need to remove the obstacles and ensure the inheritance." Margaret had written in one of the email.

So they planned it. They planned it all.

The horrific car crash that had defined mine and Alex's entire childhood was not an accident. The slippery roads and the bad weather were just a convenient cover story.

My stepmother, the woman who had moved into my home after my mom's death, stole my father's attention, and actively abused me for years, had murdered my mother in cold blood just to steal everything she owned.

And she did not act alone.

Viola Graham, Tristan's mom, the woman who smiled so sweetly at family dinners, the woman who played stepmother to Alexander, had completely orchestrated the accident. She murdered Flora Graham to secure her place in the family.

Flora and Genevieve were in the exact same car Grandma winifred had told me herself that first dry we meet.

They died together on that freezing mountain road because two greedy, ruthless monsters wanted their lives.

"Oh my God," I gasped, clutching my stomach as a violent wave of pure physical nausea ripped through my body.

I leaned over the side of the sofa, gagging dryly. Lilian dropped to her knees beside me, rubbing my back frantically.

She reached up and pulled the printed emails from my lap. She read through it, and her face instantly turned completely pale.

"They murdered them," her voice echoed with horror. "Dandy, your stepmother killed your mom."

The absolute devastation hit me like a physical blow to the chest.

I remembered the day of the funeral.
Even though I was so young and shouldn't be able to remember, I could never forget that day.

I remembered standing in the freezing rain, wearing a tiny black dress, crying until my throat bled. I remembered Margaret walking up behind me, resting her warm hand on my shoulder, and telling me everything was going to be okay.

She looked me directly in the eyes and played the grieving, supportive friend.

"It was all a lie," I sobbed, burying my face in my shaking hands. "My entire life was a massive lie. She killed her, Lily. She took my mother away from me!"

I felt rage explode inside my chest. It boiled through my veins.

Margaret and Viola thought they had won. They thought they had buried their bloody secrets in the dirt with our mothers. They spent the last decades living in luxury, spending the wealth they had stolen.

Even when I managed to get a life for myself through acting, she and her daughter had still taken that away from me. Leaving a permanent stain in my career.

I wiped my wet face aggressively. I grabbed the documents from Lilian's hands and stacked them neatly together. I shoved them back into the faded yellow envelope, my movements was fast and aggressive.

"Dandy, what are you doing?" Lilian asked, watching me stand up.

"I am taking these to the police," I said firmly. "I am going to burn her entirely to the ground. I am going to make sure Margaret and rots in a very dark cell for the rest of her miserable life."

Lilian stood up quickly, grabbing my wrist before I could march toward the door.

"Wait," Lilian pleaded, her dark eyes completely serious. "You cannot just walk into a police station with these. Viola is deeply connected. She has half the judges in this city in her pocket. If she finds out you have this envelope, she will send someone to silence you exactly like she silenced Martha."

"I do not care!" I yelled, ripping my arm away. Completely blinded by rage. "They have to pay!"

"You have to tell Alex," Lilian insisted, standing firmly in my path.

I froze completely. Just hearing his name made my chest tighten with a confusing mixture of love and pure pain.

I had avoided him for four days. I had locked myself in the guest room to protect my fragile heart from the man who had lied to me about his health.

"No," I whispered, shaking my head. "I cannot talk to him."

"You have to, Dandy," Lilian persuaded, her voice softening. She reached out and touched the yellow envelope. "I hate him right now. I truly do. He broke your heart, and he deserves to suffer for it. But his mother was in that car too. Flora was murdered by Viola. He deserves to know the truth about his own family."

I stared down at the thick yellow envelope.

Lilian was entirely right. Alexander loved his mother so much. Her tragic death had completely shattered his childhood, setting him on the dark, violent path that eventually turned him into Ghost Blade.

He spent his entire life trying to protect his grandmother because he thought the crash was a terrible tragedy. He had probably had no idea he was currently living in the exact same house as his mother's killer.

I took a slow, deep breath, tryiny to steady my racing heart. I placed my hand over my stomach, drawing strength from the tiny life growing inside me.

My baby was never going to meet their grandmothers, but I'm going to make absolutely sure they grew up in a world where justice actually existed.

"Okay," I agreed, my voice dropping to a heavy, determined whisper. "I will tell him."

I left the private sitting room immediately and walked slowly down the long, hallway toward the grand staircase.

My feet made absolutely no sound against the floorboards.

I reached the big double doors of his private study.

A tiny sliver of yellow light shined beneath the door. I stood outside the door for a long, heavy minute, remembering the nights he used to stand outside my guest room. The emotional wall between us was massive.

But this envelope was about to change everything. This was bigger than our broken marriage. This was blood.

I raised my shaking hand and pushed the heavy oak door open without knocking.

Alexander sat behind his massive mahogany desk. He looked exhausted, rubbing his tired green eyes with his bruised hands. The moment he heard the door click, his head snapped up.

He froze completely. He looked absolutely stunned to see me willingly standing in his space. He pushed his chair back and stood up slowly, keeping his distance, fully respecting the boundaries I had silently drawn between us.

"Angel?" Alex called, his deep voice filled with a desperate, cautious hope.

I walked into the center of the dark study.

Then I looked directly into his green eyes, which I hadn't done in the past few days.

I held the faded yellow envelope tightly against my chest.

"We need to talk. It's about our mothers." I said, my voice breaking beneath the massive, crushing weight of the truth