CHAPTER 4 HIDDEN TRUTH

As days passed, I started noticing things.

St. Mary's received generous donations, yet the children lacked necessities. Their food was different from the staff's. Their clothes were worn out. And the accounts—

The orphanage had multiple fake accounts. They were laundering money.

The more I dug, the more secrets I uncovered. They were selling something internationally, though I couldn't decode the transactions.

I knew I couldn't report this to the police or the government. They'd just cover it up. Corruption ran too deep. Instead, I sent an email to the biggest donor. I told him I knew what he was really funding and demanded a meeting at the orphanage. All I wanted through these email was to meet him in person and if he someone I can trust I can pass the evidence .As he is someone powerful he can sort this out. But I never received a reply.

Days passed.

Sera stood at the entrance of St. Mary's orphanage, her saree clinging to her frame as the wind picked up. It was one of those monsoon days when the rain was relentless, drenching everything in its path. The children, wild with excitement, ran barefoot through the puddles, their giggles echoing in the courtyard. Water splashed as they jumped, tiny hands reaching up as if trying to catch the rain itself.

Sera sighed, brushing back strands of hair that clung to her wet face.

"That's enough now! Come inside!" she called out, raising her voice. No one listened. They had no worries, no past haunting them—just the joy of the moment, something she had long forgotten.

Her saree, once neatly draped, was now a mess, the pleats undone and the pallu hanging off her shoulder.

"You little devils, if you don't come in now, I'm dragging you all inside myself!" she warned, hands on her hips.

A few of the younger ones hesitated, glancing at each other before making a run for the doorway. But the older ones? They tested her patience. Fine.

She caught little Arun first, who squealed in protest, his tiny arms flailing as she lifted him.

"Nooo, Aunty Sera! Just five more minutes!"

"Five more minutes, my foot!" she muttered, carrying him inside despite his kicking legs.

One by one, she grabbed the drenched children, dragging them. By the time the last one was inside, her saree was utterly ruined

Breathless, she leaned against the doorway, wiping the rain from her face as the children huddled together, shaking the water from their hair like mischievous puppies.

"Troublemakers," she muttered, though she couldn't help the small smile tugging at her lips.

A tall man stood at the entrance, the dim light from the hallway casting a long shadow across the floor. His perfectly tailored white shirt hugged his broad shoulders and black pants. He was the kind of man who commanded attention without asking for it. Who stepped into a room and owned it without uttering a single word. But I knew better. He wasn't just anyone.

The moment his eyes met mine, a chill ran down my spine. I had seen him before. For a brief second, I felt the air in the room shift, the weight of his presence pressing against me. His lips curled into the faintest of smirks, like he knew something I didn't. Like he was playing a game I hadn't realised I was a part of yet.

"I'm here to meet Miss Sera," he said.

"May I know your name?" I asked,

"Luca. Personal assistant to Sir Antonio." His voice was smooth, almost pleasant. But his eyes told a different story.

I reached out to shake his hand. The moment our hands touched—

The vision hit me.

A gunshot. Blood. Him, collapsing to the ground. He was going to be shot.

I masked my reaction and forced a smile. "Please wait in the visitor's room. I'll change quickly."

"Of course, Miss Sera."

I rushed to my room. I couldn't hand it all over—not to him when I know he is lying. But I had to give him something.

When I returned, I handed him a file. "These are records of misused funds and fake accounts. This orphanage deserves more than this."

He took the file, flipping through it. "Is that all?"

I replied, hesitating. "I'm sorry for lying in the email."

He smirked, eyes darkening. "Next time, don't. Liars get punished."

A chill ran down my spine. There was no mistaking the warning in his tone.

I met his gaze head-on. "There won't be a next time, Luca. But make sure to wear a bulletproof vest, a good one." I stepped closer, whispering, "You're going to get shot. Soon... And you too Luca, don't lie."

His smirk faltered for just a second.

I turned and walked away, not looking back.

Meanwhile...

Inside the black car parked outside, a man leaned back, watching me through tinted windows.

"Did you fly here just for a file?" one of his men asked.

Antonio chuckled, tapping his fingers against the leather seat. "No."

He stared at the orphanage.

"I wanted to see who was brave enough to blackmail me."

But what intrigued him most?

My last words.

Because he knew—I wasn't lying.