Chapter 4 The Velvet Mask

The morning after the dinner party felt unusually quiet. The clinking laughter and chatter from the night before had vanished, leaving behind an eerie stillness. Ava sat in her room, sipping coffee by the window, the perfume of roses drifting in from the garden.

But her thoughts weren't on the flowers.

They were on Elena.

"Her first husband died in a car crash..."

The words echoed in Ava's head like a loose piano key struck over and over. It wasn't the tragedy that troubled her-it was the secrecy. Why hadn't Elena or her father ever mentioned it?

Was it grief... or something else?

Downstairs in the Study

Ava crept into her father's study while he was out for his morning walk. She hesitated only a second before pulling open one of the heavy drawers. It smelled of cedar and ink-still very much her father's world.

There were bills, estate papers, a few travel documents-nothing unusual.

Until she found it.

A plain manila envelope, unmarked. Inside: a small bundle of photographs.

One was of Elena... much younger, standing beside a tall man with sharp cheekbones and intense eyes. The man had his arm around her waist. They looked... perfect. Too perfect.

The next photo chilled her.

A newspaper clipping. A headline:

"Mysterious Car Crash Claims Life of City Architect"

Ava read it carefully. The man's name was Daniel Ross. Elena's first husband. No mention of foul play, but something about the report was odd. The car had veered off a bridge during a storm. There were no skid marks. No signs of impact. And Elena had not attended the funeral, according to one source.

The next page was worse.

A second article-years later.

"Elena Ross Wins Dispute Over Late Husband's Estate. Family Alleges Manipulation."

Ava leaned back, breath caught.

Why would someone hide this?

Later That Day

Elena found Ava on the back patio, reading with one leg crossed over the other, a book open in her lap-but her eyes were distant.

"You're quiet today," Elena said gently, setting down a tray of fresh lemonade.

Ava gave a tight smile. "Just thinking."

"About anything in particular?"

A pause.

"About your past," Ava said, watching her closely. "You've never really talked about your life before Dad."

Elena's smile didn't falter, but something changed in her eyes. A flicker of... calculation?

"There's not much to say," she replied smoothly. "Daniel and I had a complicated marriage. He died tragically. I don't like reliving it."

"Must have been hard," Ava said softly. "Especially with his family accusing you of things."

Elena's eyes hardened for a split second.

Then, like a mask being reapplied, she softened again. "People grieve differently. Sometimes grief turns into blame."

Ava nodded, though her instincts screamed otherwise.

"You know," Elena continued, "I've spent years trying to be accepted. Your father saved me in ways I'll never be able to repay. I hope... one day... you'll understand why I protect him so fiercely."

Ava tilted her head. "Protect him from what?"

Elena's gaze sharpened.

"From pain. From doubt. From people who refuse to let the past rest."

That Night

Ava couldn't sleep.

Her mind turned over the photo, the clipping, the icy way Elena's eyes had narrowed when pressed.

She got out of bed, walked to the window, and pulled back the curtain. Moonlight shimmered over the estate grounds.

In the garden below, she saw her father and Elena. He stood with his hands in his pockets, shoulders tense. Elena was gesturing sharply-angry, maybe even pleading.

Ava couldn't hear their words.

But in that moment, one thing became clear:

The woman living in her mother's house wore a mask... one velvet-smooth and dangerous.

And Ava was going to find out what lay beneath it.