Chapter 5 The Monster Wearing A Father's Face

It was nearly midnight, but sleep never came.

Veronica sat by her window, the newspaper clipping trembling between her fingers. The photo of the drowned woman haunted her - not just because it could be Elara, but because of the note scrawled on the back:

"She didn't drown. She was silenced. And someone you trust helped do it."

It repeated in her mind like a drumbeat.

Someone you trust.

She didn't trust many people. Only two, if she was honest.

And Aiden...

Aiden couldn't be the one. He couldn't.

But Raymond?

He had always been distant, courteous - like a stranger in tailored suits. Never unkind, but never warm. A puzzle she never tried solving because she was too busy surviving Charlotte.

But now?

Now she needed to know what he'd buried.

The next morning, she waited for Raymond to leave for his golf retreat - a weekend ritual she once found mundane, now suspicious.

She followed.

Quiet. Careful. Hidden beneath the hood of a faded sweatshirt and dark sunglasses.

His retreat wasn't a golf club.

It was a private estate. One that looked nothing like a place for recreation.

Remote. Guarded. Quiet in the wrong way.

She waited until he was inside before slipping through a gap in the perimeter fence and sneaking toward the house. Windows tall and tinted. Security cameras blinking red.

But fate gave her an opening.

A delivery truck arrived. She climbed into its cargo bed and waited. When the gate opened, she slipped inside.

Once in, she crouched near the back garden.

Then she heard it.

Voices.

She followed the sound - toward an open patio where Raymond stood, speaking with a man she didn't recognize. They didn't see her. But she saw enough.

Raymond's voice was calm, but what he said made her blood freeze.

"You should've burned that letter. If Veronica finds out what really happened, we're both finished."

"I didn't know she'd dig so deep," the man replied. "She's smarter than her mother."

"She's nothing like Elara," Raymond snapped. "Elara was naive. Veronica's reckless."

"She's a threat."

"Not yet. But if she keeps pushing... we'll handle it the same way we handled her mother."

Silence.

The other man said, "You really killed her?"

Raymond's voice dropped to a near whisper.

"I didn't pull the trigger. But I gave Charlotte the gun."

Veronica backed away slowly.

Heart in her throat.

She barely made it out of the estate without vomiting.

Raymond knew.

Not only knew - he was part of it. The quiet man who played father had handed Elara's life to Charlotte like a sacrificial lamb.

And now they were plotting the same for her.

When she got home, she went straight to Aiden.

He was pacing in his room, jaw tight, eyes wild. When she entered, he rushed to her.

"Where the hell were you? I've been calling you-"

"I know the truth," she said. "About your father. About mine."

Aiden stilled.

She told him everything - about the estate, the conversation, the betrayal.

When she was done, Aiden didn't speak. He just sat. And for the first time since they kissed, Veronica saw a different man.

Not the confident, brooding protector.

Something darker.

Aiden's knuckles turned white. "He knew. This whole time, he-"

"Let her die," Veronica said. "Gave Charlotte the gun."

Aiden's mouth twisted. "Then he dies."

She flinched.

"Aiden-"

"No. I've let him control me for too long. You think I didn't see what kind of man he was growing up? I did. But I stayed silent. Because he fed me. Because he gave me the name. But I'm done protecting the people who murdered the only person who ever loved me."

Veronica's breath caught. "You... loved Elara?"

Aiden turned away. "She was kind. She used to sneak me books. When Charlotte and my father weren't looking. She would sit with me in the garden. She called me her little prince. I haven't heard that in over a decade."

Veronica's heart cracked.

Elara had been good. And they both lost her.

Now vengeance wasn't a want.

It was a need.

That night, a memory surfaced in Veronica's sleep - like a photograph underwater.

She saw herself. Young. Maybe five.

Running through the halls, hiding under a table. A woman with long black hair knelt beside her. Whispered something into her ear.

"I'll come back for you. No matter what. You're my star."

Then - a scream.

A gunshot.

And silence.

She woke up gasping.

Was it real?

Was that her first memory of her mother?

She needed proof.

Real proof. Something she could use to expose Charlotte and Raymond. Something undeniable.

So she turned to the last person she never wanted to ask.

Margot.

The housekeeper.

Cold. Unblinking. Always eavesdropping, always silent.

But Margot had been around long enough to know everything.

When Veronica entered the laundry room where Margot worked, the woman didn't even look up.

"You shouldn't be here," she said.

"I need to know what happened to Elara."

Margot's hands paused.

"Go back to your room, Veronica."

"No."

Margot finally looked at her - eyes like steel.

"She was your mother," she said. "You already know that. So what are you really asking?"

"Who killed her?"

Margot was silent.

Then she said, "Charlotte pulled the trigger. Raymond covered it up. And I cleaned the blood."

Veronica's knees buckled.

"I... I didn't want to help them," Margot whispered. "But they threatened my son. I stayed quiet for him."

Tears welled in Veronica's eyes. "Why are you telling me this now?"

"Because the moment I saw that necklace on you... I knew she'd finally kept her promise."

"What promise?"

Margot's lips trembled. "Elara told me once - 'If anything happens to me, tell my daughter the truth. One day, she'll come back for vengeance.'"

Veronica left the room with her heart full of thunder.

The blood in her veins wasn't just a reminder of who she was.

It was a declaration.

They stole her mother.

They forged a prison out of lies and silence.

But now, the star was rising.

And stars?

They burned before they died.