Ch-33

•~•Solane POV

I hadn’t been able to sleep. Not since the call.

Even now, a full day later, no matter how hard I tried, the memory of that voice—cold, mechanical, and disturbingly calm—stuck in my head like a splinter I couldn't dig out.

I sat on the edge of my bed, phone in hand, my mind racing with questions I couldn’t silence.

———

I had just stepped out of the bathroom, towel snug around me, damp hair clinging to my shoulders, when my phone rang.

It was lying on the bed, screen glowing with an unfamiliar number.

Still drying my hair, I picked it up. "Hello?"

A mechanical voice answered, distorted like it’d been run through some kind of voice changer.

"Hello… It's nice to finally speak with you."

My frown deepened, the hairs on the back of my neck standing up. "Who is this?"

"Who I am doesn't really matter," the voice replied smoothly, a calmness that only made me more uneasy.

I gripped the phone tighter. "Is this some kind of prank? How did you get my number?"

There was a long pause, the silence heavy. “This isn’t a prank call, Irene.”

A cold shiver crept up my spine, my breath caught in my throat.

"W-What did you just call me?" My voice trembled, barely a whisper.

The caller’s laugh was low and unsettling, "Don’t worry about how I know your real identity. I’m the one who called emergency services five years ago, when Melissa Grant pushed you off that cliff."

My legs gave way, and I sank onto the bed, my heart thundering in my chest.

"What?" The word felt too small for the weight of what the caller was saying.

"Who the hell are you?" I managed, my voice shaking with disbelief. "And why are you calling now? What do you want? Money?"

The caller’s laugh turned sharp, dripping with disdain. “Money? Is that always the first thing you think of?” the voice scoffed.

“Calm down, Irene. I don’t want your money… I just want to protect you.”

“Protect me?” I echoed, voice tight. “Why?”

“Because we share a common enemy. You want to destroy Melissa Grant…and so do I. As the saying goes, the enemy of my enemy is my friend.”

My fingers trembled around the phone. “Why do you want to ruin Melissa? And why now? Why are you calling me?”

“You ask too many pointless questions,” the voice muttered. “I called because your little family performance at dinner the other night? It just backfired.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, my heartbeat spiking as unease twisted deep in my gut.

“Melissa ran a DNA test on you and Zane Lancaster. She knows he’s your biological father—not your uncle.”

“What?!” I gasped, shooting to my feet as panic surged through me. “But how? I was careful—so damn careful!”

“Well,” the caller drawled, “apparently not careful enough. That little dinner stunt you and your parents pulled only made her more suspicious. And when a paranoid witch like Melissa gets suspicious, she digs for answers like a bloodhound.”

My stomach dropped.

“But relax,” the voice added. “She thinks you’re just some illegitimate lovechild. She still doesn’t know you’re actually Irene Lancaster.”

Relief rushed out of me in a shaky breath.

“Okay… okay, I still can fix this.” The words barely left my lips, a whisper meant more for myself than for the caller.

“I know you can,” the voice said quietly. “That’s why I called.”

I hesitated, my voice low. “Thank you… but who are you? You said you want to ruin Melissa Grant too—but how am I supposed to trust you?”

A sharp beep cut through the line indicating that the call had ended.

My heart dropped.

I pulled the phone from my ear and immediately tried to redial, but the number wouldn’t connect.

“Fuck,” I muttered, flinging the phone onto the bed, my breath ragged.

———

Now sitting on the edge of my bed, I stared at my phone—the label Unknown Number still glaring back at me like a ghost I couldn’t shake.

Dad had already set his people on tracing it, but there was still no update.

I exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through my hair. Whoever had called… who were they, really? And what kind of vendetta did they have against Melissa?

Before I could spiral further, my phone started ringing.

Mom.

I answered quickly. “Mom… how did it go?”

Her voice came through, tense. “She just left. Don’t worry, she believed everything I said. But I don’t know how long it’ll hold. I wouldn’t be surprised if she does something drastic soon.”

She paused, then added in a quieter tone, “That woman is dangerous, sweetheart.”

“I know, Mom.”

"Then come home," her voice cracked.

She sighed, her voice softening into a pleading tone. “Why don’t you just end this and come back? My heart hasn’t known peace since you married that devil, Nathaniel Grant, and moved in with him and his witch of a mother.”

There was a pause. Then her voice shifted—harder now, edged with the fury she always tried to hide.

“You don’t know how much restraint it took not to lace their dinner with poison that night…”

“...And if I could think of doing something like that out of rage and grief for what they did to you… just imagine what they’re capable of, for their own devilish reasons. I’m scared, baby. Terrified.”

Silence stretched between us once again.

Then I asked quietly, “Would you really be okay letting the people who killed your grandchild… and stole my chance to ever become a mother… walk free?”

She didn’t answer right away.

But when her voice returned, it was a whisper. “Of course not. But I almost lost you five years ago. I can’t lose you again. Not to this revenge. Not to them.”

My hand clenched tighter around the phone.

But I couldn’t say a word.

Because deep down, I knew she was right.

And yet… I wasn’t sure I could walk away just yet.