Ch-28

•~•Solane’s POV

The soft beep of my phone pulled me out of sleep. I blinked at the faint light slipping through the curtains, still feeling too tired to move.

Slowly, I sat up, careful not to jostle the bed too much and wake Nathaniel beside me.

I reached for my phone on the bedside table and squinted at the screen. A message from my father.

‘Are you up?’

A familiar knot formed in my stomach. I exhaled slowly, then glanced at Nathaniel again before quietly slipping out of bed.

The air was cool against my bare skin as I reached for my silk robe, neatly hung on the hook by the wall.

I walked to the bathroom and shut the door behind me before calling him.

He picked up on the first ring.

“Sweetheart,” he said, his voice thick with relief. “What happened? You had your mother and me worried. You promised you’d call when you got back to the Grant mansion.”

“I’m sorry,” I murmured, dragging a hand over my face. “It just slipped my mind.”

The silence on the other end felt heavy, like he was waiting for me to say more. Finally, he asked, “Is everything okay?”

I hesitated. “Yes... you two should relax.”

“I don’t think we can, not after the stunt we pulled at dinner with Melissa and Nathaniel.” His voice dropped, growing more concerned.

“Your mother and I are worried. What if Nathaniel or his mother picks up on something? What if they start digging into all we said?”

I exhaled, gripping the edge of the sink. “Neither of them suspects a thing. Everything is going exactly as planned. What we did and said at dinner was necessary, Dad.”

“It covered up the slip-ups I made with Nathaniel,” I added quietly.

“He was starting to connect the dots—seeing too many similarities between me and Irene Lancaster. It was only a matter of time before he started digging into who I really am.”

There was a long pause before he spoke again. “And you’re sure this whole move…bringing up Irene Lancaster and her death won’t backfire later?”

“Yes,” I said firmly. “By getting ahead of them…by making them indirectly aware that the girl they thought they killed five years ago was actually Zane Lancaster’s daughter, we’ve shut down any of their suspicions before they had the chance to grow.”

“… Now, any similarities they notice between me and the girl they once knew? They'll just dismiss it, saying it's because we're family.”

I paused, a smirk playing on my lips. “Especially after what I told Nathaniel tonight... He seemed to believe every word. And now, it’ll be even easier to make him fall for me.”

A low, thoughtful hum came from my father’s end. “Are you sure?”

I leaned against the counter, my fingers lightly tracing the smooth marble as I let out a quiet hum.

“Also, seeing how guilty he looked at dinner…” I trailed off, unsure if I should say the words.

“…It makes me wonder if he was telling the truth,” I said at last.

“The truth?” My father’s tone sharpened. “What truth?”

I hesitated, then let it out. “That he loved me.”

Silence. It stretched out between us—heavy, suffocating, and loud in its stillness.

When he finally spoke, his voice was low and bitter. “Sweetheart, don’t let yourself believe that. Don’t forget who you’re dealing with. That man doesn’t know how to love.”

I bit my lip, uncertainty curling in my chest. “But what if he wasn’t lying? What if... a part of him meant it? I keep thinking about it, Dad.”

His voice cut through like a blade. “If he ever loved you, he wouldn’t have fed you to that wolf he calls a mother. He would’ve protected you…Fought for you.”

I said nothing. Because he was right. And yet… a part of me still wanted to believe otherwise.

My father sighed, his tone softening just a fraction. “Sweetheart, you know how hard it was for your mother and me to let you go through with this—knowing how dangerous it is.”

“So please, don’t lose sight of why you’re in that house. Nathaniel and his mother are master manipulators. Keep your guard up. Don’t let what happened five years ago happen again.”

His warning landed, sharp and heavy, sinking deep into my chest.

The tightness around my ribs returned—the same cold, familiar knot I had learned to ignore.

But it was there again, tugging at me, threatening to unravel my control.

I tightened my grip on the phone, my knuckles going white. “I won’t,” I managed, forcing the words even as they sounded almost foreign.

There was a brief pause before my father spoke, his voice gentler now, “Good. I know you won’t.”

The call ended, but I didn’t move. I stood there, letting the silence in the bathroom fill the space.

The tension in my body seemed to stretch thin, like a wire pulled too tight.

He was right. I needed to get a grip—stop letting my emotions mess with my head. But it wasn’t that simple, was it?

The ache inside me, the one I had buried so deep, was never far off. And Nathaniel? He had a way of digging it up without even trying.

But not this time.

I wouldn’t let him in. Not again.

I couldn’t make the same mistake twice.