Chapter 13: The Discovery
The silence had become a living thing.
It followed Serene through the halls of the Frost estate, curled beside her at meals she wasn't invited to eat, wrapped around her throat each night as she tried to sleep. Three months had passed since Ethan left. Three months of nothing. Three months of learning to exist without hope.
But tonight, something felt different.
She had been walking past her father's study, on her way to the kitchen for a glass of water, when she heard voices. Low. Careful. The kind of voices that meant secrets.
"—worked perfectly. The doctors never suspected a thing."
Amelia. Her voice dripped with satisfaction.
"And the girl?" Her father's voice, tired but sharp. "She's been quiet."
"Of course she has. She's always quiet. That's what makes her so useful." Amelia laughed—a cold, brittle sound. "If anyone ever investigates, they'll find the evidence leads straight to her. All those herbs she's always collecting. All those books on plants and remedies. Who would believe she wasn't involved?"
Serene's blood turned to ice.
"She's my daughter," Samuel said, but there was no warmth in it. Only a statement of fact.
"She's a tool," Amelia corrected. "One we've used perfectly. The drug came from those herbs she dried last summer, remember? We made sure traces were left in the greenhouse. If anyone digs too deep, they'll find little Serene's fingerprints all over the evidence."
Serene pressed her hand to her mouth, stifling a gasp.
They had framed her.
They had poisoned Diyen Leo with something made from her herbs—her herbs—and left evidence to point at her. Ethan's hatred, his silence, his abandonment—it wasn't just about his father's collapse. It was about her. They had made it about her.
She stumbled away from the door, her mind reeling. She needed proof. She needed to see it for herself.
The study door was slightly ajar. Amelia and Samuel had moved to the sitting room—she could hear their voices fading down the hall. Without thinking, without planning, Serene slipped inside.
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The study was dark, lit only by moonlight through the tall windows. She moved on instinct, her fingers trailing along the desk, the shelves, searching for anything that might—
A folder. Thick, unmarked, tucked beneath a stack of legal papers.
She pulled it out with trembling hands.
Inside, she found everything.
Documents detailing the financial transfers from Leo Industries to Frost-controlled accounts. Letters discussing the "timing" of Diyen's collapse. A small envelope marked with a single word: Evidence.
She opened it.
Inside was a dried herb sample—her handwriting on the label, her collection method, her name. And beside it, a lab report confirming the presence of the same substance found in Diyen's system.
They had used her. They had stolen her herbs, created a poison, and left her name all over it.
But the worst was yet to come.
At the bottom of the folder, tucked beneath everything else, was a letter. Handwritten. In Amelia's elegant script.
To Whom It May Concern,
It has come to my attention that Serene Frost, my stepdaughter, has been conducting experiments with poisonous herbs in the greenhouse. I have long suspected her involvement in suspicious activities, but recent events have confirmed my worst fears. The poison used against Diyen Leo matches compounds found in her private collection. I believe she acted alone, motivated by her inappropriate attachment to the Leo heir and her desire to punish him for leaving her behind.
I pray this information helps bring justice to the Leo family.
Amelia Frost
Serene read it twice. Three times. The words blurred as tears filled her eyes.
They hadn't just framed her. They had written a confession—a false one—that painted her as the mastermind. If this letter ever reached the authorities, or worse, the Leos...
Ethan would hate her forever.
But he already hated her, didn't he? He'd left without a word. He'd never answered her letters. He'd decided she was guilty without even asking.
Unless...
Unless he never got her letters.
The thought struck her like lightning. What if Amelia had intercepted them? What if Ethan had been waiting, just like her, for word that never came?
She couldn't think about that now. She had proof. Real proof. Documents, letters, evidence that would clear her name and condemn the real criminals.
She gathered everything she could carry—the folder, the letters, the lab reports—and fled to her room.
---
Her hands shook as she spread the documents across her bed.
She needed to contact Ethan. Needed to tell him the truth. Needed to—
The landline.
Her father's study had a phone. She could use it now, while everyone was asleep. She could call the Leo residence, beg whoever answered to put Ethan on the line, tell him everything.
But what if Amelia had the line monitored? What if the call was traced?
She didn't care. She had to try.
She crept back downstairs, her heart pounding so loud she was sure the whole house could hear it. The study door was still ajar. She slipped inside, crossed to the desk, and picked up the receiver.
Her finger hovered over the numbers.
What was the Leo residence number? She'd memorized it years ago, but now, in her panic, the digits scattered like startled birds.
She closed her eyes. Breathed. Remembered.
She dialed.
One ring. Two. Three.
"Leo residence."
A woman's voice. Cold. Formal. Not Celeste—a servant, perhaps.
"I need to speak with Ethan Leo," Serene whispered. "Please. It's urgent."
"Who is calling?"
Serene hesitated. If she gave her name, would they hang up? Would they tell Ethan? Would they—
"Who is calling?" the voice repeated, sharper now.
"Serene Frost. Please, I—"
The line went dead.
Serene stared at the receiver, disbelief crashing over her. They had hung up. The moment she said her name, they had hung up.
She tried again. This time, the line was busy.
Again. Busy.
Again. Nothing.
They had blocked her. Or the servant had been instructed. Or—
She slammed the receiver down, tears of frustration burning her eyes.
---
She couldn't give up. Not now. Not with the truth burning a hole in her pocket.
She ran back to her room, grabbed paper and pen, and began to write.
Ethan,
I don't know if this letter will reach you. I don't know if you'll read it or burn it or throw it away. But I have to try. I have to tell you the truth.
Your father was poisoned. But not by me. Never by me. My stepmother and father did it. They used herbs from my collection—herbs I dried and stored—to create the drug that hurt him. And they left evidence to point at me. I found it tonight. Documents. Letters. A false confession Amelia wrote, blaming me for everything.
I have proof. Real proof. I can show you. I can give it to the police. I'll do whatever it takes to clear my name and make sure the real criminals are punished.
Please. I'm begging you. Contact me. Write to me. Call me. I don't care how. Just let me show you the truth.
I didn't betray you. I never could. I love you. I've always loved you. And I'll spend the rest of my life proving it if you'll let me.
Yours, always,
Serene
She folded the letter, sealed it, and addressed it to the Leo residence. Tomorrow, she would find a way to mail it without anyone seeing. Tomorrow, she would—
A knock at her door made her freeze.
"Serene?" Amelia's voice, sickly sweet. "Are you awake, dear? I thought I heard movement."
Serene shoved the letter under her pillow. "I—I was just getting water. I'm going back to sleep now."
A pause. Then: "Very well. Sleep tight."
Footsteps retreated.
Serene didn't sleep. She sat in the darkness, clutching the proof of her family's crimes, and waited for morning.
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