Chapter 49

Chapter 49
Sylvia’s POV

The day moved slowly into afternoon with sunlight stretching lazily across the marble floors. From the outside, the mansion looked peaceful again — but inside, I could feel something pulsing beneath the calm. A hush that wasn’t serenity… it was consciousness.

Every movement in the corridor seemed louder than it should be. Every whisper from the maids or guards stopped too quickly when I appeared. For hours, I’d tried to focus on my laptop — tracing phone records, checking clinic addresses, trying to connect the dots Abigail thought she’d buried. But every few minutes, my skin prickled, the hair at the back of my neck rising like a quiet alarm.

Someone was watching me.

I told myself it was nerves — pregnancy hormones, stress, or Derek’s absence this morning. He’d left early for a meeting with his men, his goodbye kiss lingering on my cheek. But the silence he left behind felt heavy, almost warning.

By noon, I’d managed to trace the clinic Abigail claimed to have gone to. It was real, but the receptionist’s voice had sounded uncertain when I’d called pretending to confirm an “appointment for my sister.” She’d said, “We don’t have anyone under that name… but I can check again if you like.”

That was my first real crack of light in Abigail’s wall of lies.

I smiled faintly and closed the laptop, ready to send Matteo a text. But the moment I stood, I heard it — faint voices drifting down the hallway, near the old study. I froze.

At first, I thought it was the staff. But then I recognized her. That distinct, lilting tone dripping with entitlement.

Abigail.

My pulse stuttered. I crept closer so careful not to let my heels touch the floor too hard. The door to the study was cracked open an inch, light spilling through. Her voice came sharper now, hushed but fierce.

“…No, I told you — he doesn’t suspect yet. But if that girl keeps digging, you make sure she’s silenced before she finds anything.”

Silenced.

My breath hitched. I leaned a little closer, heart thudding painfully in my ears.

“I don’t care how,” Abigail continued, her tone poisonous. “Just make sure the message gets to him. He owes me — and if he wants his family breathing, he’ll do what I say.”

A pause. Then a low male voice, too muffled to recognize. I strained to hear, pressing my hand against the wall.

“She’s not as naive as she looks,” Abigail hissed. “She’s hiding something. Find out what it is before Derek does. He’s already suspicious — and if he learns the truth before we’re ready, we lose everything.”

My stomach knotted and twitched.

The floor creaked beneath me and I jerked back, holding my breath. Silence. Then footsteps — slow, cautious. I darted behind the corner just as the study door opened.

Abigail stepped out, phone still in hand, her face tight with keenness. Her eyes scanned the hall for a moment before she turned the other way and vanished down the corridor.

I exhaled shakily, pressing a hand to my chest. My heart was hammering so hard it hurt.

Who was she talking to? And what truth was she afraid of Derek learning first?

I didn’t have answers — not yet — but I knew I needed to find them fast.

I hurried upstairs and locked my door before dialing Matteo. He answered on the second ring.

“Silvia?” His voice was rough, cautious. “You shouldn’t call on this line.”

“I think Abigail knows,” I whispered.

A beat of silence. “Know what?”

“That I’m looking into her lies.” I turned toward the window, watching the driveway. “I just heard her on the phone. She mentioned someone owing her, and that she wants me… silenced.” The last word cracked in my throat.

Matteo swore quietly. “Did you see who she was talking to?”

“No. But it wasn’t one of the guards. The voice sounded older — deliberate. Like he’s used to giving orders.”

“Then we’ve got a problem.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” I muttered, trying to steady my shaking hands.

Matteo hesitated, his tone lowering. “You need to be careful, Silvia. Abigail isn’t just running her mouth. Derek’s been tense all week — there’s talk that someone ,a new person in his inner circle has been feeding information to her side.”

The words slammed into me. “What?”

“Yeah. Derek’s men are cleaning the house, but she’s still a step ahead somehow. If she knows you’re investigating, she’s getting intel from inside.”

Inside. The word echoed in my head like a drumbeat.

“Matteo…” I whispered. “Do you think it’s one of ours? Someone in this house?”

“I don’t know,” he said grimly. “But whoever it is, they’re close enough to know your movements.”

I sat down on the edge of the bed, the room suddenly spinning. “So what do we do?”

“For now, keep your head down,” Matteo said. “Don’t let her see you flinch. I’ll handle the outside — check the clinic again, maybe trace her call logs if I can get a burner on her number. But you—”

“—stay quiet,” I finished for him. “I know.”

There was a pause. His voice softened. “Sylvia, I don’t think Derek knows the full story either. Whatever Abigail’s planning… It's bigger than this pregnancy stunt. And if she’s threatening someone’s family, it means she’s got leverage.”

“On who?”

“On Derek, maybe. Or one of his allies.”

I closed my eyes. The image of Derek last night — his eyes hollow, his voice breaking as he begged me to believe him — came flooding back. “He doesn’t deserve this,” I murmured.

“No,” Matteo said. “But she’s counting on your emotions to distract you. Don’t let her win that way.”

Silence stretched between us. Then I said quietly, “Thank you, Matteo.”

“For what?”

“For still believing I can handle this.”

He chuckled softly, though it didn’t reach his voice. “I’ve seen you survive worse. Just… keep your phone close. And don’t trust anyone new around the house until I say so.”

“I won’t.”

We hung up, and I sat still for a moment, letting the weight of everything settle. The mansion suddenly felt smaller — the walls closer, the air heavier.

When I finally moved, it was to the mirror. My reflection looked pale, yes, but stronger than yesterday. The faint curve of my stomach was still barely visible under the loose silk robe. I touched it gently, whispering, “I’ll keep you safe. Both of us.”

A knock startled me.

“Sweetheart?” It was my mother’s voice — soft, worried.

I inhaled, smoothed my hair, and opened the door. She stood there with a tray — soup, bread, and that smile she used to give me when I was a child.

“I thought you might not have eaten,” she said gently, stepping inside. “The doctor said you need strength. Especially now.”

I forced a small smile. “You really don’t need to worry, Mama.”

She set the tray down on the table, eyes scanning my face. “I’m your mother. Worrying is my job.”

Her words tugged at something deep inside me. I reached for her hand. “Thank you… for not asking questions I’m not ready to answer.”

She smiled faintly, brushing a loose strand of hair from my cheek. “When you’re ready, I’ll be here. Just promise me you’ll rest. And… talk to Derek. He’s carrying too much guilt already.”

“I know,” I whispered. “But right now, I need to carry this part myself.”

She studied me for a moment longer, then sighed, kissed my forehead, and left the room with quiet grace.

The door clicked shut.

I turned back to the tray — untouched food, steam fading into the air — and exhaled slowly.

I couldn’t rest. Not yet.

Abigail thought she could manipulate everyone with lies and forged papers. She thought fear would keep me quiet. But fear was exactly what I was done with.

I reopened my laptop, fingers flying across the keys. Clinic records. Financial transfers. Phone pings. Something had to connect. Somewhere in the lines of data, Abigail’s fake pregnancy would crumble.

And when it did, she’d finally learn that she wasn’t the only one who could play with fire.

Outside the window, a car engine started — faint but distinct. My pulse jumped. I moved to the curtain, parting it just enough to see the black sedan pulling out of the driveway.

Abigail.

She was leaving in a hurry, phone pressed to her ear. For the first time, I saw her expression without the mask — tight, angry, afraid.

Good. She was starting to sweat.

Still, a shiver traced my spine as I whispered to the empty room, “If you’re watching me, Abigail… keep watching. Because I’m watching back.”

The wind caught the edge of the curtain, fluttering it like a secret being whispered through the walls. And somewhere deep in the house, a phone vibrated — once, twice — before stopping.

Someone else was listening, too.