Chapter Five: Whispers in the Dark

The room was pitch black except for the thin sliver of moonlight slipping through the curtains. I hadn't turned on the lamp. Light felt too exposing, too revealing of the bruises blooming across my cheek and arm. I sat on the floor with my back against the bed, knees drawn to my chest, trying to make myself small. Invisible. As if that would protect me from what was already inside these walls.

My phone lay dark on the nightstand. No messages from family. No calls. They had gotten their money, their debt erased. Why would they check on the merchandise after delivery?

A soft knock at the door made me jump.

"Elena?" Mrs. Thorne's voice, muffled but gentle. "May I come in?"

I hesitated. Part of me wanted to send her away. Another part craved any human kindness, even if it came with strings.

"Yes," I said quietly.

The door opened a crack, letting in hallway light. She slipped inside, carrying a small tray: ice pack wrapped in a towel, a glass of water, two painkillers. She didn't turn on the light, respecting the darkness I needed.

She knelt beside me without a word, pressing the ice to my cheek. The cold shocked my skin, then soothed. Tears welled again, but I blinked them back.

"Thank you," I whispered.

She sighed, the sound heavy with years of seeing things she couldn't fix. "This house... it wasn't always like this. Mr. Alex, he used to laugh. Used to run through these halls with his siblings. Then Anna died, and something broke in him. Never mended."

I swallowed. "And now Lucas..."

"Stable," she said quickly. "The doctors say he'll recover. Concussion, broken ribs, but no internal bleeding. He's lucky."

Lucky. The word tasted bitter. "Alex thinks I did it."

Mrs. Thorne's hand stilled on the ice pack. "He blames anyone who gets close. It's easier than looking at the truth."

"What truth?" I asked, voice barely audible.

She glanced toward the door, lowering her voice. "Anna's accident wasn't the first strange thing. There were... incidents. Before her. Small things. Missing items, near-misses. The family thought it was coincidence. Then Anna. Then nothing for three years. Until you arrived."

My stomach twisted. "You think someone's targeting the family?"

"I think someone's been waiting." She met my eyes. "And I think they waited for the perfect scapegoat."

Me.

She helped me to my feet, guided me to the bed. "Rest. I'll bring breakfast tomorrow. And Elena..." She paused at the door. "Lock it. From the inside."

The door closed. I turned the lock with shaking fingers.

Sleep didn't come easily. When it did, it was fractured by dreams: cars crashing, brakes screaming, Alex's hand raised, Anna's smiling face morphing into mine.

I woke to footsteps outside my door. Slow. Deliberate. Not Mrs. Thorne's light tread.

My heart hammered. I sat up, clutching the sheet.

The knob turned. Rattled. Someone was trying to get in.

Whoever it was walked away.

I didn't sleep again.

Morning came gray and heavy. Rain tapped against the windows like impatient fingers. I dressed carefully, long sleeves to hide the bruises, makeup to cover the worst of the swelling on my cheek. I looked in the mirror and saw a stranger: pale, haunted, but determined.

Downstairs, the house was quiet.

Mrs. Thorne was in the kitchen, but her usual warmth was strained. "He's in his study," she said without preamble. "He wants to see you."

My stomach dropped. "Now?"

She nodded. "Better not keep him waiting."

I walked the hallway like a condemned prisoner. The study door was open. Alex sat behind the desk, looking like he hadn't slept either. Dark circles under his eyes, stubble on his jaw. He didn't look up when I entered.

"Sit," he said.

I did, perching on the edge of the chair across from him.

He finally met my gaze. His eyes were bloodshot, exhausted. "Lucas woke up this morning. He remembers the accident."

Hope flickered in me. "And?"

"He said the brakes felt fine when he left the city. Started failing on the drive home." Alex leaned forward. "He also said he saw someone near the garage last night. Before he left for his meeting."

My mouth went dry. "Who?"

"He couldn't make out the face. Hood up. But tall. Male, he thinks."

Relief washed through me. "So it wasn't me."

Alex's expression didn't soften. "Doesn't prove anything. You could have had help."

Anger flared hot in my chest. "You still think I'm behind this?"

"I think you're convenient." He stood, walking around the desk. "But I'm willing to... reconsider. Temporarily."

I stared at him. "What does that mean?"

"It means you stay. You play the dutiful wife in public. You don't ask questions. You don't snoop. In return, I don't lock you in your room. I don't..." His gaze flicked to my cheek, then away. "I don't lose control again."

The apology was buried so deep it barely registered. But it was there.

"And if I say no?" I asked.

His jaw tightened. "Then you leave. With nothing. No money. No protection. And the police might want to talk to you about tampering with vehicles."

Blackmail. Of course.

I stood, meeting his eyes. "Fine. I'll play your game. But know this, Alex: I'm not afraid of you anymore. I'm afraid for you. Because whatever's happening here, it's bigger than your hate for me. And when it comes for you next, you might wish you'd trusted the one person who actually wants to help."

He didn't respond. Just watched me leave.

I walked out of the study, heart racing. In the hallway, I paused. A small table held fresh flowers. I hadn't noticed them before.

Tucked among the stems was a single white card.

I pulled it out.

Handwritten, in neat block letters:

"Curiosity killed the cat. But satisfaction brought it back.

Stay out of the garage.

Or you'll join Anna."