Chapter 241

Eileen's POV

I burst through the study doors so hard they slammed against the walls.

Silas looked up from his desk, those gray-blue eyes sharpening instantly. "Eileen—"

"The storage room." My voice came out too high, too fast. "Emilia's greenhouse storage room. I found—there were bottles, bags of powder—"

He was on his feet before I finished. "Slow down."

"I can't." My hands were shaking. I pulled them into fists. "Strangling vine extract. Wolfsbane variant powder. The exact same shade as what killed Evelyn."

The temperature in the room dropped about ten degrees.

"You're certain." Not a question. A demand.

"Yes." I dug my nails into my palms. "Moby felt it too. He was burning up, Silas. Terrified."

As if on cue, Moby crawled out of my pocket and up to my shoulder. His little body was still radiating heat against my neck.

Silas moved around the desk. His hand found the small of my back, steady pressure. "Gavin. Now."

The door opened less than a minute later. Gavin must have been close by.

"Alpha." He had a tablet under one arm. "I was just coming to find you."

"The sawmill investigation." Silas's voice was granite. "What did you find?"

Gavin set the tablet on the desk, swiping through photos. Crime scene shots. Close-ups of broken glass on concrete.

"The poison bottle fragments." He zoomed in on one image. "Forensic analysis shows the break pattern is inconsistent with a fall."

My stomach clenched. "What does that mean?"

"It means the bottle was struck with force from the side." Gavin pulled up another image—trajectory lines drawn over the photo. "See how the glass scattered? If Evelyn had dropped it, the pattern would be different. This looks like someone threw it at her feet."

Oh God.

"So it wasn't an accident." My voice sounded far away. "Someone deliberately broke that bottle."

"To silence her." Silas's hand tightened on my back. "Right after she mentioned the recording."

The recording.

"She had a voice recorder," I said quickly. "Old, silver-gray casing. She said it had evidence—recordings from years ago that would prove Emilia's crimes."

"And Emilia grabbed it." Gavin was typing notes. "Smashed it on the spot."

"We found electronic device fragments at the scene." He pulled up more photos. Twisted metal and shattered circuit boards. "But the damage is total. No way to recover any data."

I wanted to scream. "So we have nothing."

"We have a timeline." Silas started pacing. That predator focus I'd seen before, when he was hunting down threats. "Evelyn kidnaps Moby to threaten you. Emilia conveniently appears to stop her. Evelyn accuses Emilia of being the mastermind, produces the recorder as proof. Emilia destroys the recorder, then—what, throws the poison bottle at Evelyn's feet?"

"Making it look like Evelyn's spell backfired." I pressed my hand to my forehead. My brain felt too full, too hot. "Everyone would think she lost control of her own magic."

"And the real killer walks away clean." Gavin's jaw was tight. "Fucking brilliant."

Moby's tentacles tightened around my neck. Not painful, just... holding on.

"But why?" I looked between them. "Why would Emilia kill Evelyn? If she was really funding her, using her to spy on me—why murder her?"

"The recording." Silas stopped pacing. "Evelyn said it contained proof of crimes from years ago. Whatever was on that device, Emilia couldn't let it come out."

My mouth went dry. "What could be that bad?"

Gavin and Silas exchanged a look. Something passed between them I couldn't read.

"Eileen." Silas turned to face me fully. "When Evelyn was dying, did she say anything else? Anything at all?"

I closed my eyes, forcing myself back to that moment. The sawmill floor. Blood on concrete. Evelyn's lips moving, trying to form words around the poison closing her throat.

"She was looking at me." The memory made my chest tight. "Her mouth was moving but no sound came out. I thought... it looked like she was trying to say a name."

"What name?"

"Se... rin... na." I opened my eyes. "My mother's name."

The silence that followed felt like a physical weight.

"Fuck." Gavin said it quietly, but the word hit like a gunshot.

Silas's expression went absolutely cold. "You think Emilia's secret involves Serena's death."

Not a question. A conclusion.

My legs felt weak. "The butler at Grandfather's house said Emilia was jealous of my mother. That she could never measure up to Serena's talent."

"Jealousy." Silas's voice was flat. "That's not enough for murder."

"No." I wrapped my arms around myself. "But today, at the greenhouse, Emilia asked me something strange. She said, 'If I'd done something wrong, something terrible, would you forgive me?'"

Gavin swore again.

"She was testing you." Silas moved closer. "Seeing if you suspected."

The pieces were clicking together in my head, forming a picture I didn't want to see.

"My mother died in a greenhouse accident." My voice sounded hollow. "A rare plant released toxic spores. Everyone said it was tragic, that these things happen with experimental cultivation."

"But Emilia runs a greenhouse." Gavin was already typing. "She's an expert in poisonous plants."

"And she had motive." Silas's hand found mine. His fingers were warm, solid. Real. "If Serena overshadowed her their entire lives—"

"She'd want her gone." The words tasted like ash. "And when I showed up, looking like my mother, having her gifts—"

"You became the next target."

Oh God. Oh God.

"But we can't prove any of it." Silas's voice turned harsh. "The poison in her storage room? She'll say it's legitimate research material. The Goode family specializes in plant cultivation—she has every right to those compounds."

"The sawmill evidence?" Gavin shook his head. "Could be explained as Evelyn's spell going wrong. The trajectory analysis is suggestive, not conclusive."

"And the recorder is destroyed." I felt sick. "Evelyn's accusation becomes the ranting of a dying woman trying to deflect blame."

"So we have nothing." I pulled away from Silas, walked to the window. The grounds stretched out below, peaceful and green. "She gets away with it. With all of it."

Moby made a soft sound against my neck. His tentacles patted my cheek gently.

Don't give up.

"No." Silas's voice came from right behind me. "Evelyn was trying to tell you something with her last breath. She said your mother's name for a reason."

I turned to face him. "What reason?"

"Maybe the recording wasn't the only evidence." His eyes were intense. "Maybe there's something else. Something connected to Serena that Emilia doesn't know about."

My heart started beating faster. "Like what?"

"That's what we need to find out." He touched my face, thumb brushing my cheekbone. "But carefully. If Emilia suspects you're investigating—"

"She'll come after me." I finished. "Like she came after Evelyn."

The weight of it settled over me like a shroud. My mother's death wasn't an accident. Emilia had killed her. And now she'd killed Evelyn to keep that secret buried.

I was the only one left who could connect the dots.

I was the only one left who posed a threat.

"She's going to try again," I whispered. "Isn't she?"

Silas pulled me against his chest. His heart beat steady under my ear. "Not if I have anything to say about it."

But even his arms around me couldn't stop the cold fear spreading through my veins.

Because if Emilia had killed once to protect her secret, and killed again to keep it hidden...

What would she do to the last person who could expose the truth?