Chapter Sixty - The Murder Of Cece Rhodes

The stillness of the Baldwin household was ruptured by the shrill, piercing cry of the landline — a sound so abrupt, so foreign in the dead of night, that it seemed to tear through the fabric of the silence itself. It echoed down the marble hallway, through the high-ceilinged corridors, until it reached the master bedroom.

Camila jolted awake, heart pounding like a drum in her chest. Disoriented and breathless, she reached for the phone with trembling fingers, her mind still suspended between dreams and the gnawing sense that something had gone horribly wrong.

"Hello?" she croaked, voice coated with sleep and dread.

"Mrs. Baldwin?" The voice on the other end was male — clipped, professional, but edged with something sharp and urgent. "This is Detective Harris from the Glenwood Police Department. I need you and your sister to come down to the station immediately."

Camila's blood turned to ice. Her spine stiffened. The fog of sleep dissolved in an instant.

Beside her, Thomas stirred. His eyes opened, alert and heavy with concern. "What is it?" he asked, his voice raw.

Camila stared at him, shrugging as her lips parted, struggling to form words. But the detective's next sentence struck first.

"It's about your mother — Cecilia Rhodes."

The name hit like a slap. Camila flinched. The air in the room grew heavier, colder.

Without another word, they threw on coats and shoes with frantic, clumsy urgency. As they moved through the house, the echo of their footsteps stirred life into the quiet. Aura peeked from behind the staircase railing, eyes wide. Jackson emerged from his room, rubbing sleep from his eyes. Harper didn't move from the armchair in the parlor — she simply looked up, as if sensing another storm before it hit.

Camila didn't say a word. Not yet. Not until she knew more.

The drive to the station was drowned in silence. Streetlights smeared across the windshield like streaks of memory, fleeting and distorted. The city slept around them, unaware of the seismic shift occurring in the Baldwin family.

At the station, the fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting a sterile, artificial glow on the off-white walls and dull linoleum floors. Detective Harris was waiting. His posture was tense, expression grave, as he led them through a series of long, quiet hallways that smelled faintly of burnt coffee and old paper.

Inside a small, windowless room, the truth unfolded.

"She was found around midnight." Harris began. "There were signs of forced entry, and... indications that she struggled. She didn't go quietly."

Camila's lungs refused to fill. Her hands gripped the edges of the metal chair until her knuckles turned white.

Her mother had been murdered.

"Murdered?" she whispered. "But who—why?"

"We're still investigating." Harris said. "No suspects yet. But I need to ask: Did your mother have any enemies? Anyone with a reason to want her gone?"

Thomas laughed — a bitter, breathless sound. "You could fill a phone book with that list."

Camila couldn't speak. Her mother had been a tyrant in pearls — regal, manipulative, unrelenting. She had crushed spirits, broken relationships, and ruled her family with an iron will masked in charm. The kind of woman who left scars too deep to see. And now she was gone.

Not peacefully. Not quietly. But violently.

Her thoughts flew — to the people her mother had wronged, to the camp where Harper had nearly lost herself. To the cruelty Cece had unleashed on anyone who failed to meet her impossible standards.

Was it someone from the camp? Someone who had snapped?

The room spun slightly. Camila pressed her hand to her mouth, willing herself not to be sick. She could barely hear the detective now — just a distant voice in the sea of everything crashing inside her.

Eventually, they were released with little more than a grim nod and a subtle warning: "We'll be in touch."

The night air hit them like ice as they stepped outside. The city was still quiet, but nothing about the world felt still. Camila's thoughts churned like a storm at sea.

At home, the house was steeped in uneasy silence. The clock in the foyer ticked past three a.m. The children were still awake, scattered across the living room like worried shadows. Aura sat curled on the sofa, knees to her chest. Jackson paced with restless energy. Harper, pale and ghostlike, sat bundled in a blanket, her eyes locked on something no one else could see

Camila couldn't say it. Not yet. Not until she made one call.

In the kitchen, she dug through her purse with shaking hands and pulled out her phone. The screen glowed against the dark, illuminating her drawn, tear-streaked face.

She found Julia's name. Pressed Call.

The phone rang. Once. Twice. Three times.

"Camila?" Julia's voice was groggy, confused. "What's wrong? Is it Harper?"

Camila swallowed. Her voice was barely a whisper. "No. It's not Harper."

A beat.

"It's Mom. She's... she's dead."

Silence.

"What?" Julia's voice dropped. "What do you mean?"

"She was murdered," Camila said, each word carved out of ice. "The police called us. We went to the station. It's real, Julia. She's gone."

For a second, all Camila heard was breathing. Then Julia let out a small, stunned laugh — not of amusement, but disbelief. "No... you're kidding. You're joking. She can't— She's too... she can't just be gone. That witch will live forever."

"She is." Camila pressed her forehead to the cold tile counter, trying to steady herself. "They don't know who did it yet."

"Who would even..." Julia's voice trailed off. "Who would do something like that? I know everyone fucking hated her but who would be capable of something like that."

Camila hesitated. "A lot of people have reasons. You know that. Everything she did... it was bound to catch up to her eventually."

"I don't know how to feel." Julia said softly. "She was our mother, but... she ruined us."

"I don't know how to feel either." Camila exhaled, voice thick with exhaustion. "But I have to tell the kids now."

There was a pause.

"Tell them they are free now, Cami." Julia said. Her voice wasn't triumphant. It was weary. Hollow. "Tell them they don't have to live in her shadow anymore. Under her rules."

Camila closed her eyes, tears slipping down her cheeks.

"I will."