Chapter Two
1309 Words
The Truth Doesn't Stay Buried
Elara barely slept.
Every time she closed her eyes, she saw him.
The stranger from the terrace.
The boy who had made her laugh.
The boy who had understood her in ways nobody else ever had.
The boy whose last name changed everything.
Rowan Calloway.
By three in the morning, she was still staring at her ceiling.
By four, she had given up trying to sleep altogether.
She sat by her bedroom window, wrapped in a blanket, watching the sky slowly brighten.
Usually, the sunrise calmed her.
Today, it only made her more anxious.
Because she couldn't stop thinking about what happened at the gala.
More specifically, she couldn't stop thinking about what her father had said.
"The file is gone."
"Someone knows the truth now."
The words played repeatedly in her mind.
What is the truth?
What file?
And why had her father looked terrified?
Growing up, Elara had always known there was bad blood between the Ashfords and the Calloways.
Everyone knew.
But nobody ever explained why.
Questions were always met with silence.
Or warnings.
Or immediate changes of subject.
As if speaking about the past would somehow bring disaster.
For the first time, Elara wondered if the adults weren't protecting her.
Maybe they were protecting themselves.
A soft knock interrupted her thoughts.
Before she could answer, the door opened.
Her grandmother entered carrying two cups of tea.
"Still awake?"
Elara accepted one gratefully.
"Barely."
Evelyn sat beside her.
For a moment, neither spoke.
The old woman studied her carefully.
"You met someone."
Elara nearly choked.
"Excuse me?"
Her grandmother smiled knowingly.
"You have the same expression your mother had when she was young."
That surprised her.
Her mother rarely spoke about being young.
As if she'd been born serious.
"What expression?"
"The one people get when they can't stop thinking about somebody."
Heat crept into Elara's cheeks.
"It's not like that."
"Hmm."
"It isn't."
"Of course."
The amusement in her grandmother's voice made denial impossible.
Eventually, Elara sighed.
"His name is Rowan."
Evelyn's smile disappeared instantly.
The reaction was so sudden that Elara's stomach dropped.
"You know him?"
"No."
The answer came too quickly.
Too sharply.
For the first time, her grandmother looked uncomfortable.
That alone was enough to raise suspicion.
Then Evelyn quietly asked,
"Rowan... what?"
Elara already knew the answer mattered.
"Calloway."
The silence that followed felt endless.
Her grandmother closed her eyes.
Just for a second.
When she opened them again, sadness filled her expression.
"Oh, sweetheart."
Those two words terrified Elara more than anger would have.
"What?"
Evelyn looked away.
"The stars really do have a strange sense of humor."
"What does that mean?"
Her grandmother stood.
Suddenly appearing much older than before.
"Be careful, Elara."
"Grandma—"
"Very careful."
Then she left.
Without answering a single question.
By lunchtime, Elara had become determined to find answers.
Which meant doing something she rarely did.
Breaking rules.
The Ashford estate contained an enormous private library.
Most people loved it.
Elara loved it too.
But today she wasn't looking for books.
She was looking for secrets.
The room was empty when she entered.
Sunlight streamed through tall windows.
Dust floated lazily through the air.
Everything appeared peaceful.
Yet Elara's heart pounded.
She wasn't entirely sure what she hoped to find.
Family records.
Old newspapers.
Anything.
She moved toward a section containing historical archives.
Years of city records filled the shelves.
Slowly, she began searching.
Ten minutes passed.
Then twenty.
Nothing.
Thirty minutes later, she finally found something.
A newspaper dated twenty years ago.
The headline immediately caught her attention.
LOCAL BUSINESSMAN DIES IN LATE-NIGHT ACCIDENT
Her pulse quickened.
The article itself wasn't unusual.
A businessman had supposedly died in a car crash.
Tragic.
But ordinary.
Except for one detail.
The accompanying photograph.
Two men stood beside each other.
One was her father.
The other was Rowan's father.
And they weren't enemies.
They were smiling.
Friends.
Elara froze.
That couldn't be right.
Her father and Victor Calloway hated each other.
Everyone knew that.
Yet here they were laughing together.
Standing shoulder to shoulder.
As if they trusted each other completely.
"What are you doing?"
The voice behind her made her jump.
The newspaper slipped from her hands.
Her older brother Adrian stood nearby.
Watching her.
His expression immediately hardened when he noticed the article.
"Where did you find that?"
The question wasn't casual.
It sounded almost panicked.
"Why?"
Adrian snatched the newspaper.
"You shouldn't be looking at this."
"There it is again."
"What?"
"Secrets."
His jaw tightened.
"Drop it, Elara."
"No."
The word surprised both of them.
Because she rarely argued.
But she was tired.
Tired of being treated like a child.
Tired of being lied to.
Tired of everyone deciding what she deserved to know.
"What happened between the Ashfords and the Calloways?"
Adrian's expression darkened.
"Nothing that concerns you."
"It obviously concerns me."
"No."
"It does."
"Elara."
His voice carried a warning.
But she refused to back down.
Not this time.
For several seconds, neither moved.
Finally Adrian sighed.
"You don't understand."
"Then explain it."
He looked away.
And somehow that hurt more than anger.
Because it meant he knew something.
Something important.
Something he wasn't willing to share.
"Stay away from Rowan Calloway."
The words landed heavily.
Elara stared at him.
"Why?"
"Because some stories don't end happily."
The statement sent chills through her.
Then Adrian added,
"And because people get hurt when they start digging into the past."
Without another word, he walked away.
Leaving Elara alone.
And even more determined than before.
Meanwhile, across the city, Rowan Calloway sat inside his father's office.
The atmosphere was tense.
Dangerously tense.
Victor Calloway stood by the window.
His back turned.
His silence is somehow more intimidating than shouting.
Finally, he spoke.
"You talked to her."
Not a question.
A fact.
Rowan exhaled slowly.
"Yes."
Victor laughed humorlessly.
"Of all the people in that ballroom."
"I didn't know who she was."
"But you do now."
The room fell silent.
Rowan looked toward the city outside.
Unfortunately, knowing who Elara was hadn't changed how he felt.
That was the problem.
He still remembered her smile.
Still remembered the way she laughed.
I still remembered how easy everything felt.
And that made things complicated.
Very complicated.
"Stay away from her."
Victor's voice cut through his thoughts.
Rowan looked up.
His father rarely repeated himself.
When he did, it was serious.
"You know I can't promise that."
Victor turned slowly.
Something dangerous flashed in his eyes.
"The Ashfords destroyed this family."
Rowan frowned.
"That's not the whole story."
For a split second, genuine shock appeared on Victor's face.
Then anger followed.
"Who told you that?"
Nobody.
But Rowan had spent years noticing things.
Contradictions.
Half-truths.
Missing details.
The story never quite added up.
And now, after seeing Elara, he was more convinced than ever.
Something was wrong.
Something wasn't being said.
Victor stepped forward.
His expression was suddenly grim.
"If you care about that girl, stay away from her."
The warning felt strange.
Almost protective.
Which meant the situation was worse than Rowan realized.
Far worse.
Because his father wasn't worried about himself.
He was worried about Elara.
And that terrified Rowan.
That evening, Elara received an anonymous message.
No name.
No number.
Just a single text.
If you want answers, come to Blackwood Cemetery at midnight. Come alone.
Her stomach dropped.
She read the message three times.
Then a fourth.
A normal person would ignore it.
Delete it.
Forget it.
But Elara had spent twenty-one years following rules.
And look where that had gotten her.
No answers.
No freedom.
No truth.
Just more secrets.
So shortly before midnight, she quietly slipped out of the house.
Unaware that someone was already watching her.
And that her search for the truth was about to become far more dangerous than she imagined.
- Writer
