122. Bitter Truth

Claire walked Ashley all the way into the apartment, not leaving her side until she was certain Ashley had settled—at least enough to breathe a little easier. Only then did she offer a soft goodbye, her hand lingering a second longer on Ashley’s arm, as if trying to anchor her back to solid ground.

“Get some rest,” she said. “Turn off your phone if you have to. Take care of yourself.”

Ashley nodded. A faint smile formed, more like a crack across glass than anything sincere.

Once the door clicked shut behind her, silence fell like a heavy curtain.

Ashley stood still for a moment in the narrow hallway, her body wrapped in the echo of her own thoughts. Then, slowly, as if each movement had to be negotiated with the weight pressing down on her, she climbed the stairs to the second floor. Each stair felt heavier than the last, as if her body were tied to stones. 

The bedroom welcomed her like a void—quiet, dim, but far from comforting. She slipped inside and let the door close behind her, then sank onto the bed, curling up as though her bones had no strength left to hold her upright.

She wasn’t sure if she wanted sleep, or if she simply wanted escape.

But her mind refused to shut off. It raced in a hundred directions at once—rewinding, fast-forwarding, conjuring fears, doubts, shadows. Her chest felt tight, as if every breath had to claw its way out.

Ashley closed her eyes and pulled the blanket over her shoulders, willing herself to drift away. Not to dream. Just to disappear for a little while. To float somewhere quieter than this gnawing dread that wouldn’t leave her alone.

She tried to sleep. Tried to summon the dark.

But every time her eyelids met the darkness, it wasn’t peace that came—it was the image of that bird’s corpse. Neck nearly torn through. Blood pooling like black ink in a nightmare. The stench of it still clung to her memory. That thing, that lifeless object, kept living in her mind.

‘This can’t be real,’ she thought. ‘It must’ve been a mistake…’

But hadn’t she seen her name on the delivery receipt? Ashley kept replaying every possible explanation—it had to be a bad joke. A mistake. A wrong address. Maybe someone from work playing a sick prank. Something ridiculous. But all those theories felt flimsy. None of them made sense. None of them truly erased the terror.

But even in her mind, Josh’s name echoed strangely. Out of sync. Distant. There was something there she couldn’t quite grasp.

Ashley pulled the blanket over herself, wrapping more tightly. But the cold still crept in—from the floor, from the walls, from inside her own mind.

A few minutes later, a ding from her phone shattered the silence.

Ashley opened her eyes. Her heart jolted.

She sat up slowly, reached for the bag on the chair, and pulled out her phone. A new notification glowed on the screen. Unknown number.

She opened the message.

A photo.

First photo: her, sitting at her desk last night, head bowed toward the computer screen. Second: her stepping into a taxi, in her dusky blue jacket, hair falling loosely over her shoulders. Third: this morning, in her office lobby, walking in. Eyes forward, unaware.

Ashley froze. Her hand suddenly trembled uncontolled. Breath caught in her throat.

Then came two text.

Are you afraid of death, Ashley?

I hope you're not.

Her phone nearly slipped from her hand.

Ashley jumped to her feet, eyes wide. The fear that had already been gnawing at her suddenly ballooned into full-blown panic. She paced back and forth, a hand over her mouth, trying to stifle her shivering breath. Her eyes welled up. The air in the room seemed to shrink, closing in from all directions.

Who? 

Who had taken those photos? Who had followed her since last night? And—why?

Ashley stared at her phone. Her hand was shaking, but she forced herself to press the call button.

“Ring… Please just ring…”

But it didn’t.

A recorded voice told her the number was unavailable. Disconnected.

Ashley wanted to scream, but no sound came out. She collapsed onto the edge of the bed, clutching her head. Her chest tightened. Oxygen refused to enter.

Moments later, the sound of the front door opening reached her ears.

Ashley froze. Her heart shot into her throat. But then, she heard a voice. A familiar voice. Josh.

"Yeah, yeah. I get it. But they can’t keep pushing me like this."

Ashley stood. Her heart was still pounding, but now not from the threat of some outside danger—it was from something else. Something more intimate. Something cracking at the base of her trust.

She crept toward the staircase. At the top step, she paused. A wall blocked her view of Josh, but his voice was clear. He was on the phone. His tone was low, strained—and cold.

“You’re close to her family, can’t you help me? Look,” Josh’s voice was firmer now, “even though I have a child with her, the shares they promised still aren’t enough to cover the loss…”

Ashley froze.

“…It’s childish and illogical. Everyone knows their relationship isn’t good. Why give me that much stock only if I have a child? As if marrying their daughter wasn’t already enough. All they want is an heir…”

Slowly, Ashley leaned against the wall. Her hand gripped the edge of it, as if holding herself upright.

“…My mother’s pressure is driving me insane too… Why is this happening right after I got exiled from Korea?! I swear, her grandfather wants to destroy my firm and my mom’s law firm at the same time… No, Jason, at least help me buy a little more time… Yes, yes, I owe you. Because of your connections…”

Ashley pressed her lips together. Her jaw clenched as more truths poured in—truths that struck like falling bricks.

Josh’s voice faded for a moment. He murmured something low, which let Ashley know the call was still ongoing. He still didn’t know someone was listening. Then, a long sigh from him.

“…I don’t even know how much of the company Ashley actually owns, but I doubt she’d give any of it to me…”

His words pierced like bullets. One by one, shattering the illusions Ashley had wrapped herself in. Their marriage. The warmth she thought Josh was trying to rebuild—it was all a performance. Josh was still lying. And who knew how many more truths he was hiding.

“…Our relationship isn’t going well. I still need to get closer to her… Hmm, hmm… But your idea does make sense. If I had a son, he’d be the natural heir… Just hold off and keep giving in to the old man for now… I know I was wrong! I’m being patient. I’m trying to make up for what I did… Yes, I’ll be good to her… Of course… All right…”

Realizing the call was nearing its end, Ashley backed away from the stairs, her steps feather-light, careful not to make a sound. She moved like someone lost at sea, unsure which direction was safe.

She slipped back into the bedroom and pulled the blanket over her again.

Ashley no longer knew who to trust.

The mysterious message. The very real terror. And now, Josh—the one person who was supposed to be her refuge—was part of something else. A plan. One that used her as a means to something bigger—money, shares, power. Ashley had always known there was a price to their marriage, but she hadn’t known Josh had made secret agreements with her own family.

Ashley wanted to believe this was all just a nightmare. But it wasn’t. The pain was too real. The fear too consuming.

Everything she had just heard, and everything she had just endured, shook her to the core. Ashley couldn’t decide what to think first, what to process. Her head throbbed, too full. She pulled the blanket over her head, hiding from the world. She wanted to bury the surge of emotion inside that blanket that now encased her—but her sobs broke through, wracking her body.

The world she thought was finally getting better had suddenly become a far more terrifying place.