I slide through the shadows, my bare feet sinking into the plush Persian carpet of the upper hallway to muffle my footsteps. The muffled voices grow distinct, sharper, drawing me toward the heavy, iron-reinforced double doors of the Duke's private upstairs study.
Wait, I start to think, The Duke and Orlando weren't supposed to return until tomorrow morning. Did they actually come back under the cover of darkness in the middle of the night?
A spark of hope lights up inside me. If they are back early from their official work and the poisoning investigation, maybe I should just knock. Maybe I can walk right in, show my concern, and talk to them directly to build a better relationship with my father and brother.
I reach out my hand, my fingers hovering just inches away from the cold brass handle of the door.
But before I can knock, the tone of their voices catches my ear. It isn't the relaxed tone of two people returning home from a long journey. It is sharp, hushed, and completely laced with tension.
My hand freezes in mid-air. My instinct for survival kicks in. No. Stop. Listen first.
I pull my hand back slowly, lowering my body against the heavy wooden door frame. I press my ear flat against the cold, polished surface, straining every nerve to overhear their secret conversation from the outside.
"We combed through the entire perimeter," Orlando's voice cuts through, sounding deeply frustrated and exhausted. "We checked the registry, questioned the low-tier guards, and even went over the secret records. But it's a complete dead end, Father."
A heavy, suffocating silence follows inside the room. I can hear the distant, slow rustle of papers being thrown onto a desk, followed by the Duke's deep, exhausted sigh.
"Nothing?" the Duke asks, his voice dropping into a flat, icy register. " No clues left behind by the culprit?"
"Nothing at all," Orlando replies tightly. "Whoever targeted Elanore covered their tracks perfectly. The investigation has yielded absolutely no results. It's as if the perpetrator never existed. We found nothing that can point us to who did it."
Outside in the freezing hallway, my breath catches in my throat. My hands turn to ice against the wall.
They found nothing. The grand investigation by the powerful Duke of Valerius has come up completely empty-handed. The person who tried to kill Elanore—the person who put me in this terrifying situation—is still completely free, walking among us without a single clue left behind.
My mind spins with anxiety as I press closer to the door, desperate to know if they say anything else, completely unaware of the dangers still lingering in the dark hallway behind me.
I press my ear harder against the cold wood, the rough grain digging into my skin. The frustration in Orlando's voice is palpable, vibrating through the thick panels of the door.
"We don't even have the maid who served the plates", Orlando continues, his tone dropping into a dark, grim register. "The one who served the seafoods to Elanore's table... she shouldn't have played with her life like that. She has already committed suicide."
My heart drops into my stomach. Suicide? The maid who did something like that is dead?
"Because of her death, we don't have any clues as to who was giving her orders or who was truly behind this," Orlando says, a heavy sigh escaping him. "I think someone was controlling her from the shadows, using her as a disposable pawn. Or... maybe she really is the main culprit of this case. Perhaps she held some deep, personal grudge against Elanore that we knew nothing about. But without her alive to speak, we have absolutely no idea."
Inside the study, the sound of heavy footsteps echoes as the Duke paces the floor. The temperature in the hallway feels like it drops five degrees just from the sheer weight of his silence.
"An unfortunate dead end," the Duke finally speaks, his voice cutting through the room like a frozen blade. "If the maid is gone, what about the kitchen staff? What about the Chief Chef?"
"The Chief was completely outside the estate that day, Father," Orlando explains quickly. "We verified his whereabouts. He was already at his own home. His alibi is airtight. No one in the main kitchen seems to know how the seafood slipped into the ingredients."
Outside the door, my hands begin to shake violently. The napkin of food I left downstairs feels like a distant memory as a cold sweat breaks out across my forehead.
My brain frantically tries to organize this terrifying new data. The maid is dead, taking the identity of her master to the grave. The Chief Chef is entirely cleared. The investigation is a ghost town. It means the mastermind—the true corporate executive of this murder plot—is still sitting comfortably in this house, completely untouched, perhaps watching me from a balcony at this very moment.
If they discover that the poison failed, and that "Elanore" is still breathing... what will they do next?
I press my ear so hard against the door that the cold brass hinge bites into my cheek. Orlando's tone suddenly shifts, the exhaustion in his voice sharpening into raw, irritated frustration.
"Father, why are you pressing this matter so far?" Orlando asks, his words tumbling out with a rare, aggressive edge. "You have so many things to do. You have an empire's worth of duties on your plate already. Why are we wasting our time and resources investigating this? Elanore is fine now! She survived!"
I gasp silently in the dark hallway, my hands clenching into tight fists. He wants to just let it go? Because I survived, my attempted murder doesn't matter?
"You know what will happen if you keep pushing this investigation," Orlando continues, his voice rising slightly in irritation before he forces it back down into a hushed, tense whisper. "If you press this matter any further, everyone will find out, Father. Our house's bad news will be out in the open. The entire nation will know that someone inside the estate tried to murder a member of the bloodline! Our reputation will be utterly destroyed."
A heavy, suffocating silence drops inside the room, so dense that I can feel the drop in temperature right through the wood. When the Duke finally speaks, the usual icy composure is completely stripped from his voice. Instead, his tone cracks with a harsh, irritated roar that makes me flinch out in the hallway.
"Do you think that I want to do this, Orlando?!" the Duke snaps, his words slicing through the air like a frozen blade. "Do you truly think I am running myself ragged, ignoring my duties, because I care about her? Because I love her? No! You are completely wrong!"
I press my back flat against the wall, my heart hitting my ribs like a trapped bird. The sheer malice in his voice is a physical blow. He doesn't care. He doesn't love Elanore at all.
"He is behind everything!" the Duke continues, his voice dropping into a desperate, furious whisper as he steps closer to Orlando. "He is the one who insisted on this! He demanded that we investigate this matter thoroughly. He told us we should not take this poisoning lightly. And you know exactly what will happen if we don't handle it ourselves!"
I feel a cold shiver. Who is 'He'? Who is the powerful figure pulling the strings even the Duke is afraid of him ?
"If he starts investigating this case with his own mages," the Duke growls, the sound laced with absolute panic, "then our family's reputation will be done! We will be completely finished! There will be no future, no honor, no house left for us to protect. The throne will strip us of everything! I am only chasing this dead-end investigation to keep him satisfied and out of our affairs. I am doing everything I can to drag this matter out, to buy us time, because this entire situation is already spinning completely out of our hands!"
Inside the room, Orlando falls utterly silent. I can hear his sharp, shallow breathing through the door crack. The harsh truth has just shattered his aristocratic composure. He can't even argue back; the reality of their desperation is too heavy to take. They aren't powerful mages controlling the board—they are cornered animals trying to hide a massive scandal from a higher power.
Outside in the dark, my fingers dig into my palms until my nails draw blood. I came out here looking for a midnight snack, and instead, I've uncovered the terrifying blueprint of this family's ruin.
"The illusion of the all-powerful Duke of Valerius has shattered. Sara now knows that her father's frantic investigation isn't driven by love, but by sheer, suffocating terror of a mysterious figure holding their lives in his hands.
Who is the powerful man forcing the Duke to investigate Elanore's poisoning, and what does he truly want from their family? What dangerous secret is already slipping out of their hands, and what new trouble is waiting patiently in the shadows for Sara ?
The ice hasn't just cracked—it is completely breaking apart. Let's reveal the shocking truth in the next chapter. Stay with us to know the answer!"