روايات بقلم Mirah Praise

(MALDIE POV)The morning air felt like lead. Ten years. Ten years since the bridge, the water, and the silence that followed. I sat on the edge of the bed, clutching the locket—the empty, bugged locket—and stared at the wall. My father’s birthday. The anniversary of his death. To the world, it was a tragedy. To me, it was the day the lights went out.I expected silence. I expected a day of mourning. Instead, I found a circus.When I walked downstairs, the mansion was buzzing. Caterers were scurrying through the halls with silver trays. Huge floral arrangements—lilies, his favorite, but arranged in a way that looked corporate and cold—lined the foyer."What is all this?" I asked, my voice sounding small against the clinking of crystal.Richard appeared, looking sharp in a bespoke suit. He smiled, that practiced, fatherly beam that now made my skin crawl. "Maldie! You’re finally up. It’s a big day. A celebration of life for your father. I’ve invited the board, the press, and the local e

(MALDIE POV)The archive basement felt like a tomb. The air was thick with the scent of decaying paper and the cold, metallic tang of the ventilation system. My heart was a frantic bird trapped in my ribs, drumming against my chest as I scrambled deeper into the stacks. "Maldie, slow down," I whispered to myself, my breath hitching. I ignored the shadows dancing between the shelves. I had to find it. Row 42 was a blur of gray metal and cardboard boxes until I saw the label: ACCIDENT REPORTS – 2016.I yanked a heavy, dust-caked folder from the shelf. My hands shook so violently the papers nearly spilled onto the floor. "Come on, come on," I hissed, flipping through the pages.Case File: 774-B. Deceased: Elias Sams. Location: Forestwood Bridge.I found the initial report. My eyes skimmed the familiar details—the weather conditions, the time of impact, the description of my father’s car. But then I turned the page to the section labeled Involved Vehicles/Third Party Evidence.My blood

(MALDIE POV)***********************************The fluorescent lights of the Forestwood Academy cafeteria hummed with a predatory energy. I sat at a corner table, my fingers tracing the scarred wood, trying to keep my breathing steady. After the morning I’d had with Richard, the school was supposed to be a reprieve. It wasn't."Oh, look, the charity case is hungry," a voice drawled.I didn't have to look up to know it was Olive. She stood over me, flanked by her usual entourage of girls who smelled like expensive perfume and elitism. Olive reached down and snatched my brown paper bag—the meager lunch I’d packed myself because I didn't trust the staff at the mansion."Give it back, Olive," I said, my voice tight."This?" She held the bag up between two manicured fingers as if it were a biohazard. "Maldie, honey, you live in that massive hand-me-down mansion now. Surely Richard provides better than... What is this? A peanut butter sandwich?""It’s none of your business. Give it to me.

(MALDIE POV)***********************************I didn’t sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw that tiny, unblinking glass lens hidden in the vent. My skin felt like it was crawling with invisible ants. When the sun finally started bleeding through the curtains of the estate, I dragged myself out of bed, my head throbbing. I had to look normal. If Richard was watching….and I knew now that he was………I couldn't let him see the terror.I walked into the dining room, my footsteps echoing on the marble. Richard was already there, sitting at the head of the table, reading the morning paper. He looked up, and for a second, I flinched, but he just beamed at me."Good morning, Maldie. You look a bit pale, sweetheart. Did you sleep well?""I'm fine, Richard," I lied, my voice cracking. "Just a headache."He stood up, but not to pull out my chair. He gestured to the spread of food. "Sit, eat. You need your strength. Actually, I have something that might make you feel better."He reached into

(MALDIE POV)*************************************I barely managed to slip through the side entrance of the estate, my lungs burning from the sprint through the fog………… The silver key was still biting into the palm of my hand, a cold reminder of the vault and the nightmare I’d just escaped……. I just needed to get to my room…….I needed to lock the door and breathe.But the house wasn't empty.A hand, thick and calloused, shot out from the darkness of the West Wing corridor. It clamped around my throat…………not squeezing, but firm enough to kill my scream before it could leave my lips…... "Going somewhere, Maldie?"David. He didn't wait for an answer….. He hauled me backward, his fingers digging into the silk of my sleeves as he dragged me deeper into the shadows, far from the light of the main foyer. He moved with a predatory silence that made my skin crawl and tingle all at once. "David, let go! You’re hurting me!" I hissed, clawing at his forearm………... It was like trying to scratch

(MALDIE POV)***************************The fog was a thick, wet blanket over the pier……I could barely see my own feet as I hurried toward the old boathouse. My heart was thumping against my ribs like a trapped bird. The note had promised the truth about my father, and I wasn't going to miss it for anything.I reached the heavy wooden door and pushed……. It creaked loudly."You're late, Maldie….."The voice didn't come from a stranger……. It was deep, smooth, and instantly recognizable. I stepped inside and squinted through the gloom……. He was there, sitting in a plush leather chair that looked far too expensive for this rotting shack………"Julian?" I gasped, slamming the door behind me to keep out the chill. "You sent the note? Why the mystery?""Because mystery gets your attention," he said. He didn't get up………He just sat there, the light from a single lantern carving out the sharp lines of his jaw. "And right now, I want all of it.""I thought this was about my father's files," I said