Flora's Affair

The night was colder than usual. A damp chill crept into every corner of the Blackthorne estate, settling into the bones like sorrow. Amara sat up in her bed, pulling the covers tighter. Her breath was visible in the dim moonlight slicing through the windowpane.

She shivered and stared at the ceiling. Memories flooded in.

This was the kind of night Elias used to hold her close. They would wrap themselves in soft sheets, whisper dreams, kiss each other in warmth. Elias would run his fingers across her back, bury his face in her hair. They would laugh, love, fall asleep tangled together.

But those days were gone. And she had returned not for love, but vengeance.

Still, part of her stirred.

She rose, wrapped her robe tighter, and stepped out into the hallway. Maybe she only wanted to see if he was okay. Maybe the ghost of love was still haunting her chest.

As she passed his door, she heard something.

A soft moan. Amara froze.

She leaned closer, her ear against the large oak door.

Another moan. It was louder.

Then she heard a voice. "Massage my waist," Elias said, voice low and raspy.

Her heart stopped. A woman giggled. "Like this?"

"Mmm," he murmured. The sound twisted Amara's stomach.

She bent down and slowly looked through the antique keyhole. Her heart pounded like a war drum.

There on the bed, Flora, her friend, her gossip partner laid.

Elias's hands were on her waist, trailing upward. Then, his lips closed around her breasts. Flora's moans rose.

Amara's lips trembled.

Then she saw Flora gasp, arching as Elias disappeared beneath the sheets.

"Deeper," Flora whispered. "Don't stop."

Amara turned away, stumbled back from the door, clutching her chest.

It felt like death all over again. She dropped to the floor, her robe falling loosely around her shoulders. Tears streamed down her face, hot against the cold.

She didn't come back for love. She knew that. But to see Elias love someone else, someone so close... it tore through her like fire.

She stayed there for a while, curled like a child, until the house grew still again.

The next morning, she didn't rise to her duties. She stayed in bed, silent, face pale.

Elias sent for her. When she didn't come, he came himself.

He knocked lightly, then pushed the door open. She lay still under the blankets.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

She turned her face to the wall. "I think I'm feeling unwell."

Elias frowned. "I'll call the doctor."

Before she could protest, he was gone.

When the doctor arrived, Amara let him check her, pretending. Meanwhile, Elias stood at the doorway, watching her carefully. There was something about the curve of her lips, the blink of her eyes, the softness in her voice...

It was her. Amara. But how?

After the doctor left, Flora knocked and stepped inside.

"I heard you're not well. I came to check."

Amara sat up, managed a smile. "Thanks. I'll be fine."

Flora pulled the chair closer. "There's something I wanted to tell you. I should have said this earlier."

Amara's stomach tightened.

"What is it?"

Flora hesitated, then looked down. "Me and Elias... We've been... involved."

Amara swallowed hard, trying not to show emotion. "Involved? How?"

"Since his fiancée died, I've... kept him company, we make love. He doesn't love me. Never has. But he pays well. It's part of my job."

Amara blinked.

"Even last night," Flora added. "We... you know. But he still calls her name sometimes. Amara. He misses her. I just wanted you to know…I trust you."

Amara nodded slowly. "Be careful, Flora. That kind of... attachment never ends well."

Flora smiled sadly and stood. "Rest well."

When the door closed, Amara broke again.

She clenched the sheets. Her body shook, It was too much.

Love and betrayal. Memories and secrets.

But one thing became clear, Flora was a pawn. Elias was broken. And Amara was running out of time.

She turned to the wall. Her eyes burned.

She would destroy Magnus. She would bring everything down.

Then, a soft knock came at her door.

Amara blinked the heat away from her eyes and slowly stood. She ran a hand through her tangled hair, then opened the door.

Elias stood there, dressed in a dark sweater and slacks, his expression unreadable. But his eyes, they held something fragile tonight.

"How are you feeling?" he asked gently.

She gave a small smile. "Better. The doctor came... gave me some meds. I feel a bit stronger."

Elias nodded. "Good... Can I come in?"

She stepped aside. "Of course."

He walked in, taking the chair near the window. The night wind whispered through the barely opened glass, stirring the curtains. Amara sat back on the edge of the bed, folding her hands in her lap.

"I wanted to tell you something," Elias began after a beat. "It's been on my mind."

She looked up. He sighed, fingers tracing the edge of the chair's armrest. "You've been here for just a week. But the estate hasn't run the same since you fell ill. It's strange... Your presence... it shifted something. In the air, in the halls..."

He paused, eyes searching hers.

"I had a fiancée," he continued, voice softer now. "Ten years ago. We were supposed to marry. She was pregnant... She died."

Amara froze. She held her breath.

"She died in a fire," he said, eyes dimming. "At Blackthorne Corporation. A strange fire no one ever explained properly. I loved her, so much I thought I'd never be able to breathe again."

Amara looked down. Her fingers held the bedspread.

"These past few days," Elias whispered, "you've been haunting me."

Her eyes shot up. "You sound like her," he said, barely above a whisper. "You walk like her, talk like her. Even your silences… They mirror hers. And your name, Amara." He gave a short, broken laugh. "It's like the universe is playing a cruel joke."

She couldn't speak.

"I don't know what I'm saying," Elias stood slowly, his voice brittle. "Maybe you're her sister. Maybe just a ghost. But... it's okay now. Everything will be fine."

He gave her one last look, gentle, unsure, then stepped out and shut the door.

Amara sat still for a long moment. Then the memory returned, not a dream, but a flash.

The flames. The screams.

Smoke clawing at her throat. And Magnus, standing there. Watching, not helping.

She covered her mouth, a sob ripping from her chest. The scar on her side burned. Her hands trembled; her body remembered the pain. Her soul remembered the betrayal.

Tears poured down her face.She was back. Alive. But not for peace; she came for justice.

And Magnus...He would burn.