Chapter 181 The Mother’s Evasion
Annabelle sat in her car for a long time before driving to her mother’s house. The rain had started again, tapping softly on the windshield. Her father’s words echoed in her mind, low and haunting. “Those closest to you may not be who they seem.”
She gripped the steering wheel tighter. She didn’t want to believe it—but she couldn’t ignore the fear in his eyes.
When she finally pulled into the driveway of her mother’s estate, the sky was heavy with clouds. The mansion stood tall and perfect, its windows glowing warmly against the gray day. It looked peaceful, but something about it felt wrong.
She got out of the car and walked up the marble steps. Her hand hesitated at the door before she knocked.
A moment later, the door opened. Victoria stood there, graceful as always, dressed in a pale silk blouse and pearl earrings. Her face lit up with surprise.
“Annabelle,” she said with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I wasn’t expecting you.”
“I needed to see you,” Annabelle said softly.
Victoria stepped aside. “Come in, dear. You look pale. Is everything alright?”
Annabelle walked in. The smell of roses and tea filled the air. Everything looked exactly as she remembered—perfect, polished, untouched by time.
She followed her mother to the sitting room. Victoria poured tea for both of them, her movements smooth and controlled.
“So,” Victoria began as she handed Annabelle a cup, “what brings you here so suddenly?”
Annabelle looked down at the steaming cup, then back at her mother. “I went to see Dad.”
The smile on Victoria’s face froze for a second. Then she placed her own cup down slowly. “You… went to the prison?”
“Yes.”
There was a long pause. The ticking of the clock on the wall grew louder.
“Why would you do that?” Victoria asked finally, her tone calm but her voice thinner than usual.
“I needed answers,” Annabelle said. “He told me things, Mom. Things that didn’t make sense—at least not until I saw your reaction just now.”
Victoria frowned slightly. “What did he say?”
Annabelle leaned forward. “He said he was framed. That the evidence was fake. He said there are people—‘the true architects,’ he called them—who planned everything.”
Victoria gave a quiet, humorless laugh. “Your father has always been dramatic. Even now, he can’t accept his own mistakes.”
“He didn’t look like a man lying,” Annabelle said. “He looked scared.”
“Scared men say many things to feel important again,” Victoria replied smoothly, taking a sip of her tea. “Your father lost everything, Annabelle. It’s natural he wants to believe it wasn’t his fault.”
Annabelle studied her mother’s face. Her tone was calm, but her fingers gripped the teacup too tightly.
“He said the people behind it were close to him,” Annabelle said slowly. “People he trusted.”
Victoria set the cup down with a faint clink. “And now you think that means me?”
“I didn’t say that,” Annabelle replied carefully.
“But you’re thinking it,” Victoria said, her voice sharp now. “Aren’t you?”
Annabelle hesitated. “I just… need to know the truth.”
Victoria let out a small sigh and leaned back. “The truth is that your father couldn’t handle failure. He gambled with the company’s money and lost. The board turned on him. I did what I could to protect you.”
Annabelle’s brow furrowed. “But you told me the board voted after he confessed. I checked the records, Mom. There was no confession.”
Victoria’s hand froze halfway to her cup. Then she smiled again, too quickly. “You must have read the wrong files. It was all very messy at the time.”
Annabelle’s voice was steady. “I read everything, Mom. Every page.”
A flicker of something—fear, maybe—passed through Victoria’s eyes, gone as quickly as it appeared. “You’re letting that man confuse you,” she said softly. “He’s desperate. He’ll say anything to pull you in.”
“But his story didn’t change once,” Annabelle said. “Yours just did.”
Victoria’s expression hardened. “Watch your tone, Annabelle.”
“I’m not trying to fight,” Annabelle said, her voice trembling slightly. “I just want to understand. If he was innocent, why didn’t you stand by him?”
Victoria’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Because he was guilty,” she said firmly. “You were too young to understand how much he risked. I saved what I could of the family’s name. That’s what a mother does.”
Annabelle shook her head. “But you didn’t visit him. Not once.”
Victoria’s eyes darted away for a moment before she forced another calm smile. “There was nothing to say. He made his bed.”
Annabelle stared at her. “He said you knew who did it.”
Victoria froze. Her fingers twitched on her lap.
“Annabelle,” she said finally, “whatever he told you, forget it. That man has lived too long with regret. Don’t let him drag you down with him.”
Annabelle leaned forward. “He said the truth is dangerous. That people close to me can’t be trusted.”
Victoria’s jaw tightened. “Then maybe he meant himself.”
“I don’t think so,” Annabelle whispered.
Her mother’s eyes flashed. “Do you have any idea what you’re suggesting?”
“I don’t know what I’m suggesting,” Annabelle admitted. “But something isn’t right.”
Victoria stood suddenly and walked to the window. “You’re letting ghosts cloud your mind,” she said. “You have a future now. Don’t dig into the past. It never ends well.”
Annabelle watched her carefully. “You’re afraid.”
Victoria turned sharply. “Excuse me?”
“You’re afraid,” Annabelle repeated, standing up. “I can see it. Every time I ask something, your hands shake a little. Why? What are you hiding from me?”
Victoria’s breath caught. Then she forced a laugh. “You’re imagining things.”
Annabelle took a step closer. “Tell me the truth, Mom.”
Victoria turned away again, her shoulders stiff. “Go home, Annabelle. This conversation is over.”
Annabelle’s voice softened. “Please. Just tell me what happened.”
Victoria didn’t move for a long time. Then, without turning around, she said quietly, “Some truths are better left buried.”
Annabelle frowned. “What does that mean?”
“It means stop asking,” Victoria said sharply, her voice trembling slightly. “You have no idea what doors you’re trying to open.”
The room fell silent. The only sound was the soft patter of rain against the window.
Annabelle stared at her mother’s back, a chill creeping up her spine. “You’re hiding something,” she whispered.
Victoria didn’t answer.
After a moment, Annabelle picked up her bag and walked to the door. Her mother stayed still, her face turned toward the rain.
At the doorway, Annabelle stopped. “Dad said betrayal wears a smile,” she said quietly. “I think I finally understand what he meant.”
Victoria turned, her face pale. “Annabelle—”
But Annabelle was already walking away.
Outside, the rain had turned heavier. She got into her car and sat there, shaking. Through the window, she saw her mother standing at the window, watching her leave.
And in that brief moment, she saw it—the flicker of fear again, small but clear.
Annabelle started the engine, her heart pounding. She didn’t know what her mother was hiding, but she knew one thing for certain now.
Her father had been right.