**Threads Begin to Unravel**
The following morning, Sebastian was the first to arrive at Hart Corporation. He stood in his private office staring at the city skyline, his phone pressed to his ear. His tone was clipped, his mind sharp.
"Mason, have you connected with the private investigator?"
"Yes, sir," Mason replied. "He's digging into Fiona's background. Early findings show multiple job shifts, each time following a large payment, always hired through the same agency Julia Moore used."
Sebastian's jaw tightened. "And Julia Moore—her background?"
"Mild financial disputes, sudden expensive purchases after your wife's… incident. We'll have full records by the end of the week," Mason answered.
"Good," Sebastian said, his tone cold. "If this leads where I think it does, we'll deal with it internally first."
---
Meanwhile, Aria sat in a cozy corner of a downtown book cafe, flipping through legal documents on her tablet. Opposite her sat an elegantly dressed woman—Carmen Rivas, an independent journalist known for unearthing corporate scandals. She wasn't here for public exposure though; Carmen owed Aria's past life a quiet debt.
" Mrs Hart how did you get a hold of such information? ...anyway Julia Moore's public profile is clean," Carmen said quietly, "but digging deeper shows she's got offshore accounts...and the Moore business seems to be lacking funds for their projects ,but their little princess is busy making payments with fake accounts"
Aria smiled faintly. "Keep gathering. You'll be compensated. I need evidence that can't be ignored."
"You'll have it," Carmen promised.
---
At the Hart mansion, the atmosphere grew stiffer. The butler, Edgar, noted the restlessness among the junior staff.
---
Later that night, Aria returned home after another quiet excursion. She passed Sebastian in the corridor—he was returning from his private office, jacket slung over his arm. Their eyes met, lingering for a moment.
"You've been busy this past few days...and seems like I've been saying this quite a few times now " he observed.
Aria gave a simple shrug. "So have you."
He debated asking her about it but ultimately let it go, though his curiosity deepened. This woman—so different from the Elena he married—was clearly moving with purpose.
---
The next morning, Aria found a rare envelope slid beneath her door. Inside were early investigation reports—Sebastian's signature on the bottom corner. A silent message: he was aware, watching, but not yet acting against her.
Aria's lips curled into a determined smile.
The game board was set.
And soon, the truth about her death and Julia's betrayal would explode within these walls.
_____________________
At the edge of Oakridge City, the Moore family mansion sat cloaked in uneasy silence. What was once a hub of shallow luxury and weekend parties now felt like a pressure cooker ready to burst. Inside the lavish living room, Julia Moore stood pacing, her expensive heels clicking nervously against the marble floor.
"She was supposed to be dead," she hissed, throwing the report onto the coffee table. On the glossy front was Elena Hart, alive and radiant at a library two days prior.
Across from her, Victor Moore, her father, pinched the bridge of his nose. "You said the poison was guaranteed. From a black market source, Serena."
Julia's mother, Gloria, sat stiffly, fingers trembling around a cup of untouched tea. "That poison was slow, untraceable, and fatal. There's no way she should be walking around."
Julia's nails dug into her palm. "Not only is she alive… but she looks… different. Stronger. Smarter. Like someone else entirely."
---
Later that day
In the back corner of the house, Julia's private burner phone buzzed. She snatched it up quickly, answering in a harsh whisper.
"Why are you calling me? I told you not to contact this number " she snapped.
The voice on the other end was tense. "Miss, we have a problem. The maid, Fiona, who administered the poison, is missing. Disappeared from her last known hideout. There's word she may have been captured or… paid off."
Julia's chest tightened. "If she talks… we're finished."
---
Meanwhile, in a discreet apartment on the west side of Oakridge, Fiona crouched by a cracked window, paranoia eating at her. Her eyes darted to her suitcase—half-packed—and the prepaid ticket for a flight to a country with no extradition laws. She knew too much and had been paid too little to stay quiet.
Her phone vibrated—an unknown number. She hesitated before answering.
"Fiona , this is Carmen Rivas," came a calm, female voice. "We know everything. You can run… or you can talk and walk away alive. Think carefully."
Fiona swallowed hard, knowing exactly what that meant.
---