Bby
1821 Words
Emilia stood at the French window.
The morning light spilled across her velvet robe, soft and muted, stroking the deep maroon fabric as if trying to coax warmth into her skin. The fur lining gently brushed against her collarbone every time she adjusted her posture. She dragged her fingertips over it in slow, rhythmic strokes, the texture grounding her in the present… or at least trying to.
Beyond the window, the world was calm. The garden stretched out into manicured perfection, washed by gold from the rising sun. Roses lined the pathway like small bleeding hearts. The gravel driveway gleamed like crushed pearls. Everything looked serene.
But inside her… nothing was serene.
Emilia’s eyes were fixed on the world outside, yet her mind was miles away. It did not matter how bright this new city was or how serene this house felt. Every second, every inhale, her thoughts drifted back to the DARY estate… back to the house she and her husband shared. Back to the marble floors and echoing hallways filled with laughter that no longer existed… because he no longer existed.
She blinked slowly.
The memory of his voice haunted the spaces between silence.
“Emi… come here.”
Warm. Tired. Loving.
She pressed her palm against the cold glass of the French window as if that could stop the ache deep in her chest. Her throat tightened. If grief could carve pathways inside someone’s body, hers was already hollowed out.
She should have healed by now.
Should have moved on.
Should have learned how to breathe again.
Instead… she ran. There was no hope she was going to heal anytime soon
She left the Dary estate because every wall was soaked in memories. Every pillow smelled like him. Every room echoed his laughter and his anger, his warmth and the shadows of their fights. And she could not handle the weight of it all.
Her mother, Juliana, had moved into the estate not long after the funeral, not willing to leave Emilia alone in her vulnerability. She stayed, cooking, enforcing routines, pretending everything was going to be alright.
But her father needed her more.
Emilia couldn’t stay there alone. The house still held ghosts… not literal ones, but the haunting type …memories that scraped against her bones like knives.
She told people she left because she needed a change of environment.
But that wasn’t the truth.
The real reason was darker, sharper, rotten.
Pascaline.
That name alone had the power to turn Emilia’s blood cold.
She squeezed her eyes shut. The fur of her robe trembled slightly under her grip.
Pascaline …. the woman she should have erased from her life a long time ago. The woman who held the truth. The woman who disappeared. The woman Emilia had locked away, hidden, isolated for years… until everything spiraled. Pascaline escaped. And ever since that moment, Emilia had been living in pure fear.
Fear that Pascaline would return.
Fear that she would open her mouth.
Fear that the truth …that one truth Emilia had buried so deeply … would be dug out and displayed before the world like a festering corpse.
A truth that destroyed her father.
Will Destroyed her family.
And could destroy Emilia next.
She swallowed, though her throat felt like it had closed around her breath.
If Pascaline comes back… everything ends…
She tried to inhale, and her lungs refused the air.
Her father is suffering the consequences of that day.
Emilia shivered and wrapped the robe tighter around her.
She gave the order two nights ago …a cold, final, irreversible order.
“Kill her the moment you find her.”
She never thought she would say something like that. She was raised with etiquette, class, fine education. People like Emilia signed charity checks and attended fundraisers… they didn’t order hits on people.
Yet, she did.
And she didn’t regret it.
No witnesses. No confession. No Pascaline.
Her phone vibrated on the windowsill. Emilia glanced at it. A message from her security chief.
Still nothing. Searching.
Every update carried those same useless words.
Still nothing.
Always searching.
Useless.
Her jaw clenched.
She had hidden Pascaline for years. How was it that now, when Emilia needed her gone, Pascaline suddenly had the magical ability to hide?
“How many lives have to collapse before this nightmare ends…” Emilia whispered to herself.
Behind her, footsteps echoed down the hallway … someone moving lightly, carefully. Emilia didn’t turn immediately. She watched the faint reflection of her mother appear in the glass behind her.
Juliana, always poised, always elegant, even in simple clothing. Her hair was tied back into a neat bun. Her face looked tired, but her posture never wavered. She cleared her throat softly.
“Emilia, dear… I’m going to check something at a friend’s place. I think she’s hosting an Alderman committee visit or something.” Juliana’s voice held that soft firmness she always used when she didn’t want Emilia to worry. “Please sit with your father while I’m out. In case he needs anything, call the maids. They will handle it. But sit with him… he always needs company.”
Emilia didn’t speak. She simply nodded, her profile still turned to the glass.
Juliana’s eyes lingered on her daughter a few seconds longer …perhaps sensing the storm Emilia tried to hide … before stepping out.
The door clicked quietly shut.
The silence pressed back in.
Emilia slowly turned, the heavy velvet robe swaying behind her, and walked toward the east wing where her father stayed. Her footsteps echoed against polished marble, a hollow rhythm that followed her down the corridor.
Every portrait she passed felt like a pair of eyes watching her.
Judging her.
Condemning her.
She pushed open the door to her father’s private room.
It was dim …intentionally dim …because bright lights made him flinch. A soft piano classical piece played from a speaker in the corner, something meant to soothe nerves… but it only made Emilia’s heart feel heavier.
He sat near the window, slumped in his wheelchair. The once powerful man with a commanding voice and an intimidating presence was shrunken now, shoulders hunched, neck weak, gaze distant.
The great patriarch… now trapped inside his own body.
His eyes drifted toward her as she entered. Tears gathered in them instantly …the same way dew forms on grass at dawn.
Emilia walked toward him and lowered herself into the small chair beside him. The metal legs creaked a little, breaking the quiet.
She reached out and gently placed her cold hand over his frail one.
The instant their skin touched, a tear slipped down his cheek.
That silent cry stabbed her harder than any insult could.
He remembers.
Of course he remembers.
He remembers the night his elder daughter went missing and was never found. The scandal that was created about her. The disgrace. The tarnished image. As for him…nothing could make him believe that what ever was said about Pascaline was true.
That day … after the news of Pascaline came out…
He never made it to the door.
Emilia took a shaky breath, staring at their joined hands.
“Dad…” Her voice cracked, the word barely escaping.
Another tear slid down his cheek.
Emilia swallowed. Her eyes glossed. Her heart pounded like it wanted to claw out of her chest.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
She leaned closer, her forehead nearly touching the back of his hand.
“I’m very… very sorry.”
Silence answered her. Silence and tears.
“But you knew…” Her voice trembled, then tightened. “You knew I had to do it. I hope one day you understand why I’m saying sorry…that’s if you ever find out the truth.
Her father’s fingers flinched …just barely …but the tiny movement felt like a screaming accusation.
“You knew I couldn’t let Pascaline get away. You knew everything. She was your favorite I wasn’t. She was brilliant..I wasn’t. Since childhood..she had everything that I never got. And when we grew up too he got everything. I couldn’t bare it. I had to do something.
I know you can’t hear me but… i just feel like saying.
Emilia closed her eyes, exhaling shakily.
“It was never my intention for you to become this… to be trapped inside your own body, unable to move, unable to speak.” Her voice broke. “But I had to protect everything. I had to protect my husband… my reputation… our legacy.”
A pause.
Her voice dropped into a whisper so fragile it barely existed.
“I had to get what I wanted. Whatever it cost.”
She could feel her father’s gaze on her …a silent indictment. Her chest tightened until breathing became painful.
“If I hadn’t… she would have had everything I have by now. The money…the fame….the reputation and everything. Then me….nothing good would have come my way.
She brushed away a tear.
“You see? Nothing changed. Nothing was saved.”
Her voice cracked.
“I still lost him.”
She gripped his hand harder, desperate.
“I lost him anyway.”
Her father’s breathing hitched, his chin trembling ever so slightly. Emilia could almost hear what he wanted to scream at her.
You caused this.
You ruined everything.
You destroyed us.
“I thought I was strong,” she whispered. “I thought I was doing what needed to be done.”
Her lips trembled.
“But now I see… I was just scared.”
She leaned back in her chair, fingers trembling uncontrollably.
“I was scared of losing control. I was scared of being exposed. Scared of being powerless.”
She dragged a shaky breath into her lungs.
“I was scared… of Pascaline.”
Her father squeezed her hand …the smallest squeeze, barely there …but Emilia felt it like a punch to her chest.
A confession.
A question.
A plea.
“You want me to fix it…” Emilia whispered, tears filling her voice. “You want me to make things right.”
She looked away, eyes glazed.
“It’s too late.”
She stood slowly, releasing his hand. Her heartbeat was a drum in her ears as she stepped toward the door. She paused at the threshold, her hand hovering above the doorknob.
Then, without looking back, she spoke in a cold whisper.
“But I will finish it.”
The chandelier lights reflected in the glass, catching the sharpness in her eyes.
“The moment they find Pascaline,” she said, voice low… deadly… final, “she dies.”
Her father’s muffled sob echoed in the silence.
A sob full of sorrow.
A sob full of horror.
A sob full of regret for ever calling her his daughter.
And Emilia …the girl everyone thought was an angel was actually the devil in disguise.
There was no turning back now.
No forgiveness.
No redemption.
Only the inevitable end.
- Writer
