CHAPTER 44: THE TRUTH.

I couldn’t breathe. His grip on my neck was so tight, knocking the air out of my lungs.

I struggled against his hand on my neck, but he didn’t budge. He stood still like a wall. Oh God, he was going to kill me.

"Please... you are... hurting me..." I choked out, despite the pain.

He looked at me for a while. The rage in his eyes slowly died down. He blinked several times and looked away before releasing my neck.

I collapsed against the wall, my chest heaving heavily as I grasped for air.

Before I could even have time to recover from the torment, he grabbed my wrist firmly and pulled me up to my feet.

"Let’s get out of here." Saying that, he began to drag me out of the building.

I stumbled after him, trying to keep up with his pace. It was as if every step he took sent a new wave of fire inside him. I could feel it with the way his grip on my hand tightened hard every second.

When we reached the car, he yanked the door open and practically shoved me inside without a word. The door slammed shut, and a moment later, he was in the driver’s seat, the engine roaring to life.

Everything was happening so fast that my head was finding it difficult to register it. I couldn’t even think. And by the time we arrived at the mansion, I felt like I was floating in a fog. I didn’t even remember how I reached my room, but I was laying on the bed, staring blankly at nothing in particular.

’You are the daughter of the man who made that happen’ his words echoed in my head, making a strong weight settle over me.

It all made sense now... why he hated me so much, why he forced me into this marriage, why he systematically destroyed everything my family had and tried to downplay it like it was nothing. I was the daughter of the man who ruined his life.

But I couldn’t believe it.

I had spent half my life with my father. He was not the perfect man, he was far from it. However, he wouldn’t kill anyone. He wasn’t a murderer, let alone partake in such monstrous activity.

There had to be a mistake.

Alexander must have gotten the wrong person. Or maybe someone framed my father. It couldn’t be true. It just couldn’t.

But the way Alexander said it with such venom and certainty, there was literally no doubt in his mind. He believed it. He was so sure that my father did that to his mother.

I swallowed hard, my throat still raw from earlier. I needed answers.

The thought of confronting him again after what just happened made my stomach churn in fear. But I couldn’t stay still and let him stand on business with such accusations. I had to know the truth.

I got out of bed and walked out of the room. It was already evening. The hallway was dark and quiet. There was no one in the mansion except for us. That was what made this even more scary. Despite that, I continued my way, my bare feet padding softly on the cold floor.

Reaching there, I carefully pushed the door open.

Alexander was lying on his back, one hand tucked under his head and the other resting on his chest. His eyes were closed, but I knew he wasn’t asleep.

"I don’t believe you," I said, breaking the creepy silence.

His eyes opened, slowly, but he didn’t look at me. He stared up at the ceiling instead and flatly said, "It doesn’t matter."

"It does." I stepped into the room, my voice firmer now. "This is about my family. About my father. What if you are wrong? What if you made a mistake and my father wasn’t the one who killed your mother?"

That got his attention. He sat up slowly and turned to look at me. His gaze was cold and piercing.

"I don’t make mistakes," he said. "This isn’t some wild accusation I threw together overnight. I have spent ten years, ten whole years digging for the truth. Following every lead and tracing every detail. This is not a mistake. Your father did it."

I stared back at him, my heart pounding in my chest. "Then show me."

His brow lifted slightly.

"I need proof," I continued. "Evidence that my father actually did it. If you are so confident in your investigation, then prove it to me."

For a long moment, he just stared at me, his expression unreadable. Then he sighed and lay back down, turning his gaze to the ceiling.

"You will get it tomorrow," he said flatly. "You may leave now. I need to rest."

I opened my mouth to argue, but stopped myself. What was the point? He wasn’t going to give me what I wanted tonight anyway.

Swallowing my frustration, I turned and walked out of the room, closing the door softly behind me. Tomorrow. It was just one night. But it felt like an eternity.

****

Back at the hospital, seraphina was laying on the bed, looking very thin and pale as the moon. Her lips were cracked and had turned purple.

Meanwhile, Irene stood at the foot of her bed, looking down at Seraphina’s almost lifeless body with a neutral expression.

She still couldn’t believe that the body laying in front of her was the angelic, beautiful seraphina. She was barely recognizable.

"You look terrible," Irene said, her lips curling into a faint smirk.

Seraphina’s lips twitched, as though she wanted to respond, but her voice was weak when it came out. "I am dying... Irene."

"I know," Irene replied, stepping closer. Her heels clicked softly against the floor as she moved to the side of the bed. "The doctor said you have, what, a few weeks? Maybe less?"

Seraphina closed her eyes and forced a breath to come out evenly. Then slowly opened her eyes again.

"What a fitting end," Irene continued. "Poisoned? You know, they say karma always comes back around. I suppose this is yours. For all the evil you have done."

"Evil... I don’t deny it. But..."

"No ’but’. Look at you. This," she gestured at Seraphina’s state, "is what happens to women like you. Mistresses. Homewreckers. You reap what you sow."

Seraphina let out a faint, airless chuckle. Due to her condition now, talking was an effort. Each time she spoke, it was as if her heart was getting ripped apart. A few times, she even coughed out blood. But right now, she forced herself to. She never once gave in to Irene. And even though she was dying, she still wouldn’t.

"You sound as if you weren’t a homewrecker before you turned yourself into his wife... You don’t want to talk about Victoria, do you...?"

Irene’s jaw clenched at the mention of Victoria. "Shut up," she snapped at Seraphina. "Whatever I did was for my sake. But you... you have no excuse."

"You are right. All these years, you have tried to make me the villain. To make me carry the guilt for everything that happened. And I do. I regret it, Irene. I regret everything that happened twenty-one years ago. I wish that..."

"Shut up," Irene repeated, her tone sharper than before.

Seraphina’s lips trembled, but she didn’t stop. "I wish I could go back. I wish I could undo it all. But we can’t, can we? We both played our part, Irene. And now..." Her voice broke, and she coughed weakly. "Now I want to tell them. The girls deserve to know."

Irene’s face hardened. "What are you talking about?"

"I want to confess," Seraphina said, and everything went still for a moment. "About what happened twenty-one years ago. They have been living a lie, Irene. Claudia, Anna... they need to know the truth."

"I said shut up!" Irene’s voice rose, louder this time, filled with a mixture of anger and fear. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides as her breathing quickened. "You CANNOT tell anyone that. Not Claudia, not Anna. No one. Do you hear me?"

Seraphina stared up at her, her eyes glassy with tears. "Please..." she whispered. "They have to know. They can’t keep living in deception. It’s not fair to them. They deserve..."

Irene cut her off, leaning in close, her voice dropping to a venomous hiss. "If you tell anyone, I will make your death faster. Trust me, Seraphina. You won’t even last the week." Saying that, she straightened up and grabbed her purse, ready to leave.

Seraphina was speechless as she watched Irene leave. She knew she wasn’t joking. Irene was a woman of her words. But now, she wasn’t afraid of death. She was going to die anyway. And she needed to use her little time to bring the truth to light.

"Tell Anna I want to see her... please. At least she should know the truth about her real birth..." Seraphina cried out.

Irene paused at the door, and without glancing back, she uttered, "The truth means nothing. It won’t change a thing, seraphina." With that, she pulled the door open and walked out.

Seraphina’s shoulders dropped in defeat, tears rolling out of her eyes. She had spent years chasing luxury, and when the luxury came, she couldn’t even enjoy it a bit.

Guilt. That was all she felt each time she looked at Anna.

What if things were different back then? What if she wasn’t so heartless to take Anna away...

More tears flowed down her cheeks as she reflected on everything that happened twenty-one years ago.

This was her karma. She deserved to die.