☘︎ Jᴇɴɴɪғᴇʀ Rʏsᴏɴ ☘︎
"I had to do what I did to protect you, Violet." My father's words are an unending echo in my ears as I drive to the villa, the expression of longing on his face forever etched in the morose recesses of my mind.
He shouldn't be feeling obliged to be fatherly after what happened.
The reason of my dislike towards my father isn't particularly something one would claim to be reasonable. Because I knew, many people would worship their parents more after what he did. But. . .
"Doesn't change the fact it wasn't the right thing to do." Those were the words I'd let out through a forced smile.
There's a thing about me; while one might think otherwise, I'm not exactly innocent in the whole situation.
I hate how just being in New York reminds me about all the shady, dark corners of my life. If it weren't for the fact that I'm leaving today, I'd have lost my sanity.
Swiveling the car past the black gate with the initial 'D' engraved in gold at the center, I halt the Bugatti at the entrance door. Passing the keys to the valet so he could park the car in the parking lot, I enter the house.
Mia's lounging on the leather couch occupying the entire right side of the open-arms staircase. With a bowl of mini macarons in one hand, she waves enthusiastically the moment she sees me.
"Jenna!" Mia pats at the spot next to her on the couch, "How'd the ceremony go?"
"Like how a death ceremony goes." I state matter-of-factly, "Shouldn't you be resting, Mia?" I had no idea why I even bother to ask at this point.
"Oh, come on. I am resting. You don't see me running here." She groans, popping another one of the those macarons into her mouth. The colorfulness of the jellies reminds me of Lykas' bizarre morning deserts.
Shaking myself out of anything remotely that included Lykas Vitallis, I saunter over to Mia and take her offered seat.
"I think you were right. . ." I finally give her a honest reply, "I needed the closure."
Mia grins, "See? I'm always right."
I nod in reply, my mind getting occupied by another issue that had been bugging me since morning. Mia asks something about whether I'm leaving tonight to which I nod absent-mindedly again.
Silence stretches on, without me speaking a word and Mia observing me like a specimen in a science lab.
"What is it?" She asks, giving up on trying to figure out.
For a minute too long, I don't say anything, contemplating the pros and cons of letting her know, whether it'd be safe for her. Sighing and finally coming to a conclusion, I pull out the note from my purse that'd been a heavy weight to carry around. Mia was the only one who'd believed me that day anyways.
"I found this tucked between my clothes in the closet this morning." I hold out the piece of neatly folded paper, "It's from Samantha."
"Sammy?" Mia blinks in confusion, straightening from her lazed sprawl on the couch and taking the note from my hand, "Housekeeper Sammy?"
Nodding, I let her check the contents of the short note knowing by memory what she'd find written inside in neat cursive.
✍︎
𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑟𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑑𝑎𝑦 𝑎𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑔𝑢𝑛𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑡𝑠, 𝑀𝑖𝑠𝑠. 𝐼 𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑎𝑐ℎ 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑚𝑦𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓. 𝐵𝑢𝑡 𝑝𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑐𝑘 𝑜𝑛 𝑚𝑦 𝑑𝑜𝑜𝑟 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡𝑎𝑙𝑘 𝑡𝑜 𝑚𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑟𝑒𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑛 𝑡𝑜 𝐿𝑜𝑛𝑑𝑜𝑛. 𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑛𝑒𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔.
𝑆𝑎𝑚𝑎𝑛𝑡ℎ𝑎
✍︎
Eyes wide, Mia's brown eyes lift from the note only to stare at me incredulously, "What are you still doing here?! Go talk to her. Whatever it is, you need to know! I don't know Jenna but this could be a sign."
"Eleven years later? Why would she want to tell me something now out of all these years?" I arch a brow.
Giving me a stern look, Mia places the bowl of jellies on the glass table and rises from the couch fixing the creases on her lavender dress, "It's never too late to make things right. I'll accompany you. Let's go."
Rising myself, my words stop her, "Something doesn't feel right, Mia."
Something hadn't felt right since the day I stepped back into this house, I refrain from adding.
"How would you know that unless you see for yourself?" Mia sighs defeatedly.
Pushing aside all my doubts, I give in to my sister's suggestion. I couldn't keep being paranoid over everything. And if Samantha really planned on telling me something vital, maybe. . .maybe it was finally time to find out whether that day, I'd really. . .
I have to take the chance.
***
The staff quarters are eerily quiet since most of the staff had gone over to Greewood Cemetry to help with the ceremonial settings. Not a single maid lingers in the wing, the luminous light from the crystal chandeliers on the walls at regular intervals and the sound of my and Mia's footsteps being our only accomplice in the quiet surrounding.
A sense of foreboding grips me in waves as Mia and I stand in front of the elderly housekeeper's room, staring at the door.
At the first knock, the wooden door slides open with a screech, indicating the lock wasn't in place. Mia turns to me with a questioning look, but passing her a guarded look in return, I enter the room.
The sight that awaits makes me want to turn over the last fifteen minutes and never step foot in the room again. It also makes the contents in my stomach want to retch themselves out.
Beside me, Mia takes a sharp breath and let's out a strangled, "What the fuck?!"
There in the middle of the room, limbs sprawled at an odd angle in a carcass of her own blood and tissues, several deep stab wounds covering her torso and eyes glassy and unseeing is. . .
Samantha.
--------᪥♔︎᪥-------
Surprise surprise!
My husband Drama finally made his presence. This is the point where the actual story begins, so like 👀👍
Also also, I wrote the chapter in a half-dead state so cut me some slack, okay?🥲
Imma edit it once I'm done with exams and fit as a dinosaur. Viral fever sucks as hell💀
Y'all stay happy and healthy! Tata!
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