Chapter 25: Shadows in the Light

Rose's POV 

Rose sat at the edge of her bed, her phone still in hand, the mysterious call replaying in her mind like a riddle she couldn't solve. Her brows were furrowed, lips parted slightly as if the silence would offer her some kind of answer.

The call had ended, but the voice still echoed in her head.

She paced the length of her room, her manicured nails tapping against her thigh. That voice—smooth, low, commanding—knew her name. Knew her history. Knew enough about Melanie to speak with venom.

But who was he?

He hadn't said.

 "When it's time... I'll come to you."

She walked to the window, arms folded as she stared out at the city skyline. The storm clouds gathering above mirrored the storm in her head.

Part of her wanted to laugh. After all these years of competing with Melanie in silence—now someone else had entered the game.

"Someone powerful," she whispered to herself, eyes gleaming. "Someone dangerous."

A thrill ran down her spine. Powerful people never introduced themselves first. They let their actions speak.

And this man? He didn't just hate Melanie.

He wanted to destroy her, or should she say wanted her gone.

Rose paused at her vanity, catching her reflection. A wicked smile curled on her lips.

So, she wasn't the only one.

A stranger who hated Melanie enough to seek allies? That couldn't be a coincidence.

And yet… what feud existed between him and Melanie? What had she done to earn such rage?

Rose didn't know—and truthfully, she didn't care.

If he was willing to bring Melanie down, she was more than happy to help pave the road.

She sat, crossing her legs slowly. Her phone was still in her hand. She stared at it, waiting—hoping for another call.

"I don't know who you are," she whispered aloud, "but you sound powerful. And right now, I could use someone powerful."

Her lips twitched.

For once, she wouldn't have to fight alone.

Melanie's POV 

The sky outside the Harrington Design Studio was cloudless and pale blue. Melanie walked along the hallway with a light sketchbook in her arm, her thoughts unusually calm.

It had been a quiet day so far. Classes were manageable, the pressure of the competition hadn't crushed her yet, and Leo hadn't texted her about any company emergencies. A small miracle.

She'd just stepped out of the textile workshop when Professor Yara passed her in the hallway.

"Mrs. Westwood," the professor said, nodding politely.

Melanie slowed, blinking. "Yes, ma'am?"

"I reviewed the rough sketch you submitted this morning," she said. "Unusual composition. But inspired. Keep pushing."

Melanie blinked. A compliment?

"Thank you," she replied, her voice soft but sincere.

Professor Yara gave a brief smile and continued on.

Melanie stood in place for a few seconds, absorbing the words.

Keep pushing.

Somewhere deep inside, something clicked into place. She smiled faintly and moved on.

Back in the classroom, she dropped into her seat beside Jason, who looked up from his tablet.

"How's the prodigy doing?"

Melanie rolled her eyes playfully. "I'm surviving. Barely."

"Same," he said, scribbling something on his screen. "Wanna show me your sketch later?"

She paused, then nodded. "Maybe. If I don't burn it first."

Jason laughed.

The hours passed quickly, filled with drafting lines, comparing fabrics, and listening to critiques. There was an ease to the rhythm now—a steadiness she hadn't felt in a long time. She didn't feel like someone pretending anymore.

She felt like she belonged.

After the final bell rang, students began packing up. Betty popped in from the adjacent lab.

"Mel!" she called. "Don't forget our coffee date tomorrow."

Melanie gave her a thumbs up. "Wouldn't miss it."

Jason slung his bag over his shoulder. "Need a ride home?"

"Nah. The driver is always lurking somewhere," she said lightly.

"Must be nice," Jason teased.

They walked out together, the fading sunlight casting long shadows across the pavement. She felt the breeze on her face and allowed herself a moment of serenity.

She slipped into the back of the car and waved at Jason as the driver pulled away.

***

Back at the manor, she kicked off her heels and headed upstairs to change out of her school clothes. A shower later, she felt refreshed and less weighed down.

She tied her hair into a lazy bun and sank into the bed for a second. Just a moment's peace.

Her phone buzzed.

A text message.

Unknown Number: Enjoy your spotlight while it lasts, Mrs. Westwood.

Melanie sat up instantly, her breath catching.

Her fingers hovered over the screen. No name. No image. Nothing to trace.

Her chest tightened. Was this a prank? A jealous student?

Or something worse?

She swallowed hard, rereading the message.

It wasn't just a random comment.

It was a warning.

She stood and pulled the curtain aside, staring out at the gates.

No strange cars. No people lingering.

But that didn't comfort her.

She locked her phone and set it aside, trying to calm the storm rising in her chest. The silence in the room suddenly felt too loud, too heavy. Her eyes darted to the corners, to the windows—searching for something she couldn't name. She had always felt safe in the manor. But now, the vast halls felt distant. Cold. Vulnerable.

A knock came on the door. It was one of the staff. "Dinner will be ready shortly, ma'am."

Melanie nodded silently. "Thanks."

Her mind wasn't on food.

It was on the message.

And what it meant.

****

Downstairs, the dining room was lit warmly, the clinking of cutlery and low voices from the kitchen blending into the usual evening melody.

She sat at the long table, poking at her plate, appetite gone.

Leonard wasn't back yet.

Maybe she would tell him about the message.

Or maybe not.

What could he do anyway? Protect her from shadows?

Still, a small part of her wished he would walk in right now, tell her it was nothing, tell her she was safe.

She picked up her fork but didn't lift it. A grandfather clock ticked steadily in the hallway, louder than she remembered. The chandelier above swayed slightly—as if the air had shifted. Or maybe she was imagining it. She swallowed hard. She wasn't used to being afraid. Not like this.

But deep down, Melanie knew better.

This wasn't a dream anymore.

This was her new reality.

And someone had their eyes on her.

Someone she hadn't seen coming.

Yet.