Chapter Twenty-One The Threat Beneath the Surface

Elena

The folder felt like it was pulsing in my hands.

Thin and worn, but loaded with the kind of truth that could split a life apart. Melinda Rhodes had told me she was giving me the keys to Sophie’s ruin, but this—this was more than evidence. It was a graveyard of broken spirits. And Ava’s was buried beneath them all.

The first page was a journal entry. Ava’s handwriting was delicate, almost childlike. She wrote about Sophie with a mix of fear and worship. It was the kind of twisted devotion a victim has for their abuser.

“She says no one else will ever love me. That I’m too weak, too broken. But she loves me. I think she really does. Even when she hurts me, she says it’s for my own good.”

I closed the folder before I could vomit.

The next morning, I met Trina Williams at a café that opened before dawn. The air was thick with roasted coffee beans and secrets.

She took one look at me and sighed. “How deep are you in?”

“Neck-deep. Maybe more.”

She didn’t ask for pleasantries. She opened the folder and read while I sipped black coffee with trembling hands.

Thirty minutes in, she looked up.

“This is going to cause a war.”

I met her gaze. “Good.”

She exhaled. “Okay. Here’s what we do—we leak this in waves. Piece by piece. Make it impossible for her to clean it up all at once. But I’ll need files. Recordings. Bank logs. We build a case like a prosecutor, not a journalist.”

“There’s more,” I said. “Melinda said Ava kept everything. She left it in a storage unit. She gave me the address and the key.”

“Then get it today. Before someone else does.”

I nodded, then paused. “I’ve been followed. Or watched. I’m not sure. But I got a warning.”

“What kind?”

I pulled out the photo from my coat pocket—the one from the envelope I’d found on my doorstep last night. Trina froze when she saw it. A picture of me and Jasper, taken from across the street. My hand in his. His arm around me protectively.

On the back: “You want to destroy me, Elena? I’ll destroy you first.” – S”

“She’s escalating,” Trina muttered.

“She’s losing control,” I corrected. “That makes her dangerous. But it also makes her sloppy.”

Still, I wasn’t prepared for what I found at the storage facility.

The place was tucked behind an abandoned gas station, surrounded by rust and silence. I used the key Melinda had given me and stepped inside, expecting dust and forgotten boxes.

What I got was chaos.

The unit had been ransacked.

Files shredded. Boxes overturned. Papers soaked in water. A smashed voice recorder lay in the corner, broken in half.

My breath hitched in my throat.

She’d been here.

Sophie had gotten here first.

But she hadn’t destroyed everything. I scrambled to the back and found one small box untouched—sealed in duct tape, marked in black ink: “Ava’s Voice.”

Inside were old cassette tapes, a USB drive, and a leather-bound notebook with a faded clasp.

I held it close, tears burning my eyes.

She tried to erase her.

She tried to silence Ava.

But the dead have a way of speaking—especially when the living refuse to forget.

As I walked out of the unit, my phone buzzed.

It was Jasper.

“Elena,” he said, his voice urgent. “You need to get back. Now.”

“What is it?”

“She’s filed an emergency complaint with the hospital board. She’s trying to get your medical license suspended. She’s claiming mental instability.”

For a moment, I couldn’t breathe.

“She wants to erase me,” I whispered.

“No,” Jasper said. “She wants to replace you.”

The lines had been drawn.

This wasn’t just personal anymore.

It was a full-blown war.

And I wasn’t just fighting for the truth.

I was fighting for my career. My son. My identity.

And I was done playing fair.