Shadows and Whispers
Ethan sat alone in his study, the note trembling between his fingers.
> "She knows everything. Don't trust the smile."
Eleanor's handwriting was unmistakable. He'd seen it a thousand times — gentle, looping, steady. But now each word seemed to bleed warning.
He stared at the paper for what felt like hours, his thoughts tangled in guilt. If Eleanor had been taken because she uncovered something… then Isabella's sudden concern, her timing, her whispers — all of it — began to feel wrong.
Clara entered quietly, carrying a tray with untouched breakfast.
"You haven't eaten," she said softly.
He looked up, his expression unreadable. "You should have told me about meeting Damien."
"I tried," she said, setting the tray down. "But you wouldn't have listened."
Silence. Rain tapped against the windows again, faint and steady.
Finally, Ethan said, "Eleanor's message… she was warning us. About someone who knows everything."
Clara's pulse quickened. "Isabella?"
He didn't answer, but his jaw tightened. "I don't want to believe it. But the more I think, the less it makes sense that she's innocent."
Clara watched him quietly — the man who loved her but couldn't always trust her. "You'll find the truth," she whispered. "You always do."
He looked at her then — really looked — and for a moment the wall between them cracked just a little. "I want to believe that," he said, voice low. "I want to believe you."
But before she could speak, a servant burst into the room, pale-faced.
"Sir — there's something you need to see. In the library."
They rushed there together — and found Victoria waiting, holding a torn piece of envelope sealed with Marcus's family crest.
Ethan froze.
Clara whispered, "Marcus?"
Victoria's expression was grim. "It was hidden in Isabella's drawer."