Chapter Ten: The woman behind the curtain

The storm outside had quieted, but inside Ariella, a different kind of storm was gathering.

She stood at the top of the stairs, her hands curled around the wooden railing. From below, voices drifted upward—muffled, low, almost too careful. Lucien and Elise.

She had pretended to fall asleep in the guest room, but her ears were sharp, her instincts sharper. Something wasn’t right. Not just with Lucien… but Elise. There was a shift in the air now. Cold. Calculated.

Ariella tiptoed down the hall, pausing near the edge of the staircase, just as she heard Elise’s voice, tight and strained.

"You said this wouldn’t reach her. That it would all stay buried."

A pause. Then Lucien’s low voice followed. “I never promised silence forever. She has a right to the truth.”

Ariella’s breath caught. Her heart slammed against her ribs.

They were talking about her.

She backed away, slowly, retreating to her room like a ghost. Her mind was racing. The way Elise had looked at her that morning. That fake, polished smile. That patronizing touch on her shoulder.

And now this?

Ariella paced, gripping the edges of her sleeves. She needed answers—real ones. Not more riddles. Not more vague reassurances. And if Lucien wouldn’t give them to her, she’d find them herself.

She waited until the house settled into quiet, then slipped out.

Elise’s office was always locked. Always. But Lucien had once left a master key on his nightstand. He didn’t think she noticed, but she did.

That night, she used it.

The lock clicked open, and Ariella stepped into the room. It smelled like vanilla and old books, far too calm for the weight of the secrets it held.

Drawers. Cabinets. Folders.

She dug carefully, methodically.

Then—something.

A file.

Her father’s name on it.

Cruz, Emmanuel.

Date: REDACTED.

Status: "Unresolved."

Inside was a faded photo of her father, sitting across from a woman in sunglasses.

No. Not just any woman.

Elise.

Ariella's stomach turned.

Why?

Why was Elise meeting with her father in secret?

Why did she have a file labeled "Unresolved" with his name on it?

She flipped the next page. There was a signed agreement. Something about land. Ownership. Transfer of assets.

And at the bottom—Lucien’s signature.

No. No, this couldn’t be.

She wasn’t just married into this family. She was tied to something darker. Something deliberate.

“Ariella.”

She froze.

Elise stood in the doorway, arms crossed, face still but eyes sharp as a blade.

“You shouldn’t be in here.”

Ariella clenched the file to her chest. “What is this?”

Elise walked in slowly, shutting the door behind her.

“That, darling, is a past you’re not equipped to handle.”

“Don’t call me darling.”

Elise's smile twitched. “You’re bold now. I see Lucien’s influence is rubbing off on you.”

“I’m bold because I’m tired of being lied to. My father died, and you—” Ariella’s voice cracked, “—you were meeting with him behind my back? Before he disappeared?”

“You mean before he was murdered?” Elise said coolly, tilting her head.

Ariella’s chest heaved. “So you admit it?”

“I admit nothing,” Elise said. “But I will say this—there’s a reason Lucien warned you not to dig too deep. The closer you get to the truth, the more dangerous it becomes.”

Ariella stepped back, suddenly aware that they were alone, that the door was locked, and that Elise looked far too calm.

“You’re not afraid,” Ariella said. “You knew I’d come here.”

“I counted on it,” Elise said, her voice now a purr. “Curiosity is in your blood. Just like your father. And look where that got him.”

Ariella's fingers tightened on the folder. “I’m not afraid of you.”

Elise’s smile vanished. “You should be.”

For a long moment, silence stretched between them. Then Elise walked past her, heels clicking against the floor, and unlocked the door.

“Take that file if you want. But understand something, Ariella…” She looked over her shoulder, her eyes icy. “Truth doesn’t save. It destroys.”

Then she was gone.

Ariella’s hands shook. She looked down at the file again—at the signatures, the photos, the implications.

The truth wasn’t just bleeding through the cracks anymore.

It was pouring out.

The truth wasn’t just bleeding anymore—it was gushing, violent and unstoppable, staining everything it touched. And Ariella could feel it inside her, this slow, burning rage igniting a fire she hadn’t known she was capable of holding.

Her father had met with Elise. Lucien had signed something. Her family wasn’t just caught in the crossfire.

They were the battlefield.

She stumbled back into her room, clutching the file so tightly the edges bit into her palms. Her chest rose and fell with shallow breaths, eyes wide with disbelief.

All this time…

All this time they’d made her feel like a burden. Like a naive little girl who needed sheltering.

But they were the ones who built the cage.

And now she was clawing her way out.

Ariella dropped the file on her bed and ripped through the pages again. There was a property transfer from her father’s company to an offshore account tied to Lucien’s holding group. There were coded memos referencing a merger that never went public. Elise’s name appeared on too many of them.

But what sealed it was a single photo.

A grainy image tucked at the back of the folder—her father, on a phone, standing outside a restaurant. Behind him, barely visible, a man stepping out of a black SUV.

Lucien.

Not months before the murder. Weeks.

Ariella sat down hard on the edge of the bed. Her body went numb. Lucien had sworn he’d never known her father personally. He’d claimed they never crossed paths.

So why was he there?

Why lie?

.