Ella hadn't slept. She couldn't.
Her body was exhausted, but her mind was on fire—playing, replaying, distorting everything Ryan ever said, ever did. Every kiss, every secret, every whispered "trust me" now felt like a knife grazing too close to her ribs.
But one thing she knew?
She needed answers.
And not from Ryan.
She needed the truth… from the past.
*****
8:45 A.M. – Elite Academy Library Archives
The school library was ancient—tall wood shelves, dusty files, a forgotten archive room in the back that still stored paper newspaper clippings like it was 1993.
Ella told the librarian she was doing a "history paper on influential alumni," which wasn't a total lie. Ryan's family practically built half the school.
She found the clippings.
And her fingers stopped on the headline:
TRAGIC ACCIDENT: Socialite Evelyn Woods Dies in Speedboat Collision"
There it was.
Ryan's mother.
She scanned the details.
A family vacation. Private yacht. Speedboat collides with reef off Cancun coast. Evelyn pronounced dead on arrival.
Standard.
Too standard.
Almost… scripted.
Then something caught her eye.
At the bottom of the article, barely legible:
"Local staff claim Evelyn was seen arguing with her husband less than an hour before the crash. Authorities declined to investigate."
Ella's stomach turned.
Her heart whispered: No. No way.
But another part of her—the part that had grown tougher lately—whispered back:
What if he's been protecting more than just his past?
****
Later That Day – Clarissa's Apartment
Ella shouldn't have gone to her.
She hated Clarissa.
But Clarissa had secrets like currency—and right now, Ella needed a loan.
Clarissa smirked when she opened the door, red robe loosely tied, a drink already in hand. "Didn't think you'd come crawling."
"I'm not crawling. I'm digging."
Clarissa sipped. "Ah. The girl becomes a hunter."
"I want the truth. About Ryan's mom."
Clarissa raised a brow. "Brave."
"I'm serious."
Clarissa walked to her glass coffee table and pulled out a file from beneath. "I was saving this for graduation drama, but... here."
Ella opened it—and everything changed.
Photos.
Not of the boat crash.
But of Evelyn. Weeks before the "accident."
Bruised.
Wearing sunglasses indoors.
Standing at the edge of a hospital bed with a bandage across her temple.
Then: a therapist's note.
> Patient expresses suicidal ideation. Claims husband is controlling. Request for separation denied by legal counsel connected to husband's estate.
Ella's hand trembled.
Ryan's father… had trapped her?
"Why do you have these?" she asked.
Clarissa's eyes darkened. "Because my mom worked for them. She saw things. Things she wasn't supposed to. And she kept records. In case they tried to make her disappear too."
"Did Ryan know?"
Clarissa laughed bitterly. "He found some of it. He went to the police, the press, anyone who would listen. His dad shut it all down. Paid everyone off. Threatened to send him to military school. He rebelled. That's when the spiral started. Drinking, girls, parties..."
Ella remembered the look in his eyes when she asked about his mom.
That deep, aching grief.
He wasn't just mourning a mother.
He was mourning a cover-up.
And carrying the guilt of not saving her.
****
Meanwhile – Ryan's Room
He stared at the canvas.
Paint everywhere. The image was chaotic—blues, blacks, red streaks like tears or blood. A woman in a white dress sinking into water.
He'd painted it a dozen times.
She always sank.
Never swam.
His phone buzzed.
Ella: We need to talk. Your place. Now.
He wiped his hands and braced for the collapse.
****
10 Minutes Later
She walked in like a storm.
He stood, silent.
Her eyes held fire and pity and pain all at once.
She dropped the file on his bed.
"I know."
He didn't look at it. "Clarissa?"
She nodded. "Why didn't you tell me? Why hide that your father may have killed your mom?"
His jaw locked. "Because he'd bury you like he buried her if you got too close."
Her heart cracked at that.
"You've been carrying this alone for too long."
He sat down, like the weight finally broke him. "Every night I wonder if she was calling out for me in those last seconds. If she regretted not running. If I could've done more."
Ella sat beside him.
"You were a child, Ryan."
"She was my mom."
Ella touched his hand.
"I believe you. I believe everything. But you can't keep walking through fire alone."
He looked at her, truly looked at her.
And for the first time in years, he cried.
Real, raw tears.
And she didn't flinch.
She pulled him close and whispered, "We'll face it together."
But outside, someone was watching from a tinted car window.
Camera lens zoomed in.
Voice into a phone: "She knows now. Move forward."
***