Bloom of Deception

EpisodeFour

The Estate Shadow

Samantha collapsed on the bed. Every exhausted muscle ached from the crash, hospital lights, and the endless loop of “what now?” spinning in her head.

The missing documents felt like a gaping hole in her chest. Without her passport, Ethan’s birth certificate, or hard-saved cash, how was she supposed to rebuild? Taking any move of retrieving anything either by affidavit or confronting anyone, including the police and nurses, how could she have even proved that she existed outside of Marcus’s shadow? She shaved to start from scratch including begging for duplicate?

if Marcus had orchestrated the theft… God, what if he already had them? What if this was just the beginning of his game?

She rolled onto her side, staring at the wall where shadows danced from the streetlight outside. “One step at a time,” she whispered, echoing Rose’s words. But which step? Call the police again? Risk drawing attention? Or just… sleep. Pretend for one night that tomorrow wouldn’t bring more chaos.

A soft knock brought back her mind to the present. Her heart stuttered! Lila? She pushed herself up, legs unsteady, and padded to the door. “Come in,” she called.

She cracked it open, and there stood Lila, her vibrant curls tied back, holding a sealed manila envelope. Samantha’s breath caught.

“Lila? What’s”

“Special delivery,” Lila said with a calm smile, thrusting the envelope forward. “The police dropped this off while you were in the shower earlier. Said they found it tucked in a hidden compartment where they kept your suitcase during the final sweep. Evidence cleared, no tampering. You’re lucky they didn’t hold onto it longer.”

Samantha’s hands trembled as she took it, tearing the seal with fumbling fingers. Inside: her passport, Ethan’s certificate, the folded bills, everything was intact.

Relief flooded her like cool water, but suspicion lingered. “How… how did they miss this before?” Samantha clutched the papers to her chest, sinking back onto the bed. “You have no idea. I thought… I thought it was gone. All of it.”

Lila stepped inside, closing the door softly behind her, and placed her right hand on Samantha’s shoulder: Whatever it is, thank God you have found it. Relax, take a good rest for better relief, and let go of the past, and face reality.

As she turned her back, heading towards her room, Samantha's laptop pinged from the table. Samantha froze, then reached for it. An email notification glowed: From Blackwood & Associates HR.

Samantha opened it, scanning the lines. “Dear Ms Reed, Thank you for your application. We were impressed by your portfolio and would like to invite you for an in-person interview tomorrow at 10 AM at our estate offices. Please reply to confirm.”

“Tomorrow?” Samantha whispered, a mix of thrill and terror surging through her. “That’s… fast.”

Lila grinned, squeezing her arm. “That’s fate! Get some rest! You’ll kill it. And hey, if you need interview clothes, raid my closet. We’re about the same size.”

Samantha nodded, managing a smile. “Thanks, Lila. Really?”

As Lila slipped out, Samantha lay back, staring at the ceiling. A fresh start, maybe. But the quick response nagged at her; too quick? Or just luck?

The next morning came too soon. Samantha, dressed in her best blouse and slacks, simple and professional, drove Lila’s borrowed car to the address.

The estate unfolded like a painting: rolling hills, wrought-iron gates, and a long driveway lined with ancient oaks. The main building was a restored mansion, its stone facade gleaming under the sun, but it was the gardens that stole her breath! lush, manicured beds of roses and hydrangeas, paths winding through hidden alcoves. Opulence whispered from every petal, every perfectly trimmed hedge.

She parked and stepped out, smoothing her hair. The air smelt of fresh earth and blooming flowers, a far cry from the sterile hospital or Marcus’s cold mansion.

For a moment, peace settled over her.

Then, from the edge of the garden, a tall man in work gloves, kneeling by a rosebush, pruning shears in hand. He glanced up, dark eyes meeting hers in the distance, observant, patient, almost… knowing.

Samantha shook it off. “That’s the gardener,” she whispered to herself as she retraced her mind back to the interview.

But as she walked toward the entrance, her phone buzzed in her purse, a text from an unknown number: “Good luck at Blackwood. I’ll be watching.”

Her blood ran cold. Marcus? How did he know? Who gave him my new line?

Before she could react, the front door opened, and a smiling receptionist waved her in. But the gardener… he was still watching, shears paused mid-cut.