CHAPTER EIGHTEEN:A GAME OF SHADOWS

The house had become a prison. Guards patrolled every hallway, their footsteps heavy against the marble floor. The air was thick with unease, as though the very walls were whispering suspicions no one dared to speak aloud.

I sat on the edge of my bed, running my fingers along the cool metal of the knife hidden beneath my pillow. A smile threatened to curl at my lips, but I forced it away. I had to be careful now—more than ever.

A sharp knock at my door startled me.

"Come in," I called, schooling my expression into one of exhaustion.

The door creaked open, revealing Leon. He stepped inside, his presence commanding, his gaze sharp as it swept over me. He had been watching me all day. Studying me.

"You haven't said much since this morning," he noted, closing the door behind him. "Are you okay?"

I let out a shaky breath, lowering my gaze. "I just… I can't believe she's gone. And the way it happened…" I trailed off, gripping my arms as though trying to steady myself.

Leon took a step closer. "You were the last one to see her, weren't you?"

I looked up sharply. "What?"

"In your dream." His voice was unreadable. "You said you saw a shadowy woman. Then she vanished. And hours later, my—" He hesitated. "—my mother was found dead."

A carefully calculated pause. Then, I let my lower lip tremble. "Leon… are you saying I had something to do with this?"

His expression softened, just a little. "No, I just find it strange. You've been through so much, yet you're handling this better than anyone else."

I looked away, swallowing hard. "I don't know how to process it, okay? Maybe I'm in shock. Maybe I just—" I exhaled, letting my voice break. "I don't know what you want me to say."

Silence stretched between us. Then, finally, Leon sighed. "Forget I said anything. Just… be careful."

As he turned to leave, I called out softly, "Leon?"

He stopped.

I hesitated before whispering, "Do you think we're safe?"

His jaw tightened. "Not until we find out who did this."

He left without another word, but I knew it. He was doubting me.

By nightfall, the whispers had grown louder. Servants muttered in hushed tones, guards exchanged uneasy glances. Something had been found.

I listened from the shadows as two guards spoke near the stairwell.

"A mirror shard. Stained with blood," one said, voice low.

"Where?"

"Near the east wing, by the back entrance."

I felt my pulse quicken. I had been so careful. But had I been enough?

"We've locked it away for Leon to see," the guard continued. "If the killer was in the house that night, they might still be here."

My fingers curled into fists. They were closer than I had anticipated.

I turned, slipping back into the darkness. I had played my part well, but the game was shifting. The perfect deception could only last so long before the cracks began to show.

And I couldn't afford to be caught.

Not yet.

The morning air was crisp, carrying the scent of damp earth as I slipped past the guards. The household remained on high alert, yet I had learned their patterns well. It was almost laughable how easily I maneuvered through the cracks of their so-called security.

By the time I reached the hidden cabin deep within the woods, the sun had barely risen. The door groaned as I pushed it open, revealing the pitiful sight within.

Elena.

She was barely recognizable now. Her once-glossy hair hung in tangled strands around her hollow face. Her wrists, bruised from struggling against the ropes, lay limply at her sides. But it was her eyes that intrigued me most—red, swollen, yet still burning with hatred.

She was alive, but only barely.

I stepped forward, my boots clicking against the wooden floor. In my hands, a metal jug of water. Without hesitation, I tilted it, pouring the ice-cold liquid over her.

She gasped, shivering violently as her eyes shot open.

I crouched beside her, lowering my voice to a whisper. "Thank you, Elena."

Her brows furrowed in confusion, lips trembling from the cold.

"Thank you," I repeated, a slow smile stretching across my lips. "For making me feel like a serial killer."

A flicker of fear crossed her face, but she masked it quickly with something else—defiance.

With whatever strength she had left, she rasped, "I will kill you."

I laughed, the sound echoing off the wooden walls.

Amused, I reached out and slapped her across the face. Not hard enough to knock her out—just enough to remind her where she stood.

Her head snapped to the side, but she didn't cry out. Instead, she glared at me, her hatred now seething, boiling beneath the surface.

I reached into my coat pocket and pulled out a piece of bread—the scraps left from my own meal. I held it just inches from her cracked lips.

"Eat," I commanded. "You'll need your strength."

For a moment, she hesitated, pride warring with desperation. But hunger always won. With shaking hands, she snatched the food and devoured it like a starving animal.

I watched in fascination before standing up, wiping my hands as if ridding myself of filth.

"Don't die on me yet, Elena," I mused, turning toward the door. "The fun has only just begun."

With that, I locked the door behind me, ensuring her world remained small, dark, and hopeless.

By the time I returned to the estate, I had already shed the mask of the predator.

Now, I was Elena again—the grieving daughter, the fragile victim.

And no one suspected a thing.

As I approached the Mansion, the morning sun casting long shadows across the manicured lawn, I noticed Elena's guard standing by the grand entrance. His eyes narrowed as he watched me, suspicion etched into the lines of his aging face.

"Out for a morning stroll?" he inquired, his tone laced with doubt.

I forced a smile, masking the unease bubbling beneath the surface. "Just needed some fresh air."

He grunted, clearly unconvinced, and turned away, but I could feel his gaze lingering on me as I entered the house.

Later, in the dimly lit study, Leon confronted me.

"Your guard mentioned seeing you return this morning," he began, his voice measured. "You never used to go out alone."

I shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "People change, Leon. I needed some time to clear my head."

He studied me, his eyes searching for cracks in my facade. "You've been different lately. Distant."

I stepped closer, placing a hand on his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heartbeat. "I'm still me," I whispered, letting my fingers trail down his torso.

His resolve wavered, desire flickering in his eyes. He pulled me into a fierce kiss, and I responded with equal fervor, playing the part he so desperately wanted me to be.

As we moved to the bed, our bodies entwined, I kept my mind sharp, calculating. Each touch, each sigh, was a move in this dangerous game.

Afterward, as he lay beside me, his breathing steady in sleep, I slipped from the bed, wrapping a silk robe around myself.

I stood by the window, staring into the darkness, the weight of my deception pressing heavily on my shoulders.

Leon was growing suspicious, and his father's watchful eyes only added to the mounting pressure.

I needed to be more careful, to ensure that my performance as Elena was flawless.

But as the walls closed in, I couldn't help but wonder how much longer I could maintain this charade before everything unraveled.