Chapter 124: The burned letter
The villa had been abnormally quiet that morning—too quiet. Even the birds outside appeared to sense the oppressive silence that hung like mist. I padded barefoot across the tile floor, a robe tied tightly around me, the cold seeping in despite the late morning sun streaming through the tall windows. I'd just brewed coffee when I noticed the envelope on the marble counter.
No one had arrived. The gate had not tolled. But there it was—weathered cream, unkempt-edged, and unbox-marked.
His writing contained the letters signed with my name in that peculiar squiggle.
My breath was caught, and I naturally stepped back, heart wildly beating against the confines of my ribcage. I bellowed Caspian's name, but he was inside, upstairs somewhere. I did not wait. My hand trembled as I opened the letter, already realizing what was inside would not make sense, would not bring peace—only questions.
The letter had been partially burnt. The top right corner curled over into ash flakes, and the edges emitted the acrid scent of smoke. But the remainder was telling.
The reality was never like you thought it was.
I saved you from him.
He is not whom you believe he is. He does not deserve you. I am the only one in the entire universe that can treat you right, worship the ground under your beautiful feet and treat you like the queen you are.
My heart was racing. I dropped into the nearest chair, holding the scorched paper as if it would do me harm. I didn't know whether I was frightened or angry. Nathaniel was doctoring history now—if I wasn't running away from him, he'd rescued me from something. From whom? From what?From Caspian?
I stood up quickly, hating myself for having let that thought even cross my mind. Caspian had been nothing but steadfast, there, lasting. But the cracks between us—tiny fissures—had begun to show.
The last few weeks had stretched us thin, stretched our connection to its limit. Every whispered threat, every smudged mirror, every ghostly message had eroded the sanctuary we were trying to create.
I found him in the study a few minutes later. He was bent over his laptop, jaw set, shoulders bunched, with random notes and papers strewn all over him. He looked up the moment I walked in.
"What is it?" he growled. He could read me too well.
I held out the letter. "It was on the kitchen counter. No postmark."
His brow furrowed as he took it from me. I studied his expression, every shift and flick of his features. He read it in silence.
"Why burn a portion of it?" I breathed. "Is he trying to scare me? Or…"
Caspian wasn't quick to answer. He folded the letter over again, intentionally, and laid it aside. "He wants you paranoid. Suspecting everyone. Me first of all.".
I didn't miss the bite in his tone, the quiet bitterness. I watched him, really looked. The way his eyes danced around from mine. The tight line etched at the edges of his mouth.
"Is it working?" he tossed in.
The words hit harder than I expected. "Do not do that Cass."
"Do what?"
"Turn this on m Cass. I'm not the one with secrets."
He stiffened. "What secrets am I keeping, Lily?"
"I do not know," I told him, voice tighter than I'd intended. "But you've been wired tight for days. You get calls you won't talk to me about. You shut up the moment I try to get you to talk about your history. And then there's." I trailed off. "There's a locked drawer in your office."
The tension between us thickened. His eyes flashed to mine as he looked really annoyed.
"I haven't opened it," I said quickly. "But I saw you take something out of it last week. You looked. scared."
Caspian walked slowly across the room, stopping inches away from me. He stroked a strand of hair back from my cheek with a gentleness that couldn't cover the turbulence in his eyes. "There are things I've not told you," he said. "Not that I'm holding them as a way of hurting you. But after they're said, they cannot be taken back."
I blinked, chest pain unfolding. "I am already in this. You don't get to protect me from harm by being the one not to tell me."
He huddled in closer, forehead against mine. The closeness quieted something savage inside of me. "You're not in the dark," he whispered. "You're the only one that's keeping me from giving up.".
The walls fell silent around us. I leaned into his arms, breathing in his scent, grounding myself in the thrum of his heartbeat vibrating through his chest. I had to know that this—what we have—was real. That despite Nathaniel's lies, despite the fear, there was something unbreakable between us.
We stayed like that for what felt like an eternity.
Later, when he went out to respond to one of his mysterious calls, I went back to the study. My gaze fell on the drawer. The one he locked away after use.
I didn't open it. Didn't try to pick the lock. But my image in the gleaming wood looked more uncertain than ever.
I didn't know what scared me more—the idea of what was in there, or that part of me already knew it didn't matter.
The villa fell silent again at sundown, the last hue from the light in the sky diminishing. I was at the sink in the kitchen, looking out into the windowpane, when I noticed the form of the mailbox flag erected upright. It hadn't been erect before.
I stepped outside barefoot across the gravel walk. The mailbox creaked when I opened it.
Empty.
But on the back of the mailbox door, something had been scratched into the metal. Scratched deep with some hard object:
DO YOU SEE HIM YET?
I stumbled back.
And all at once, I was not sure if I'd ever feel safe again.