The snow fell gently outside the courthouse window, dusting the world in silence.
Valeria sat across from Paul Ridley, her husband's long-time attorney and the only man who seemed unsurprised by Gideon's final secrets.
"She poisoned him," Paul said flatly, tapping a thick folder with the back of his pen. "But this wasn't just about love. Catherine had a plan. And part of that plan included those boys."
Valeria folded her arms tightly across her chest. "I've done nothing wrong, Paul. I don't owe those children anything."
He sighed. "Legally, you do."
She stared at him.
"Gideon's will names you as temporary guardian," he said. "The state can't place them with extended family because Catherine's side is under investigation for accessory. That leaves you, Valeria. Like it or not, the courts will expect a statement—soon."
Valeria stood, her heels clicking against the marble floor. "They are not my children. They are the product of betrayal. Lies. Murder."
"And they're also Gideon's blood," Paul replied quietly. "Just like Ella."
---
Back at the estate, Ella sat curled on the window seat in her room, her sketchbook open across her knees. She wasn't drawing.
She was staring at a photograph of her father—the one taken a year before his death, with his arm slung carelessly around Catherine's shoulders. At the time, Ella thought it was innocent. Now, the truth twisted it into something grotesque.
A soft knock came at the door.
Her mother entered, pausing by the frame.
"They want me to take the boys," Valeria said bluntly.
Ella blinked. "And… will you?"
Valeria's eyes narrowed. "They're not just children. They're his children. With her."
Ella didn't speak for a long time. Then she said, "They didn't ask to be born."
That silenced her mother.
Valeria dropped her gaze. "Sometimes I think… Gideon didn't just betray me. He betrayed all of us. And now, he's left me to deal with the pieces."
Ella stood, crossed the room, and wrapped her arms around her mother's waist.
"Maybe," she whispered. "But we're still here. We're still family. We get to decide what kind of people we become after this."
---
Two days later, the boys arrived.
Caleb was five. Adrian had just turned three.
They came with social workers, trembling and silent, clutching backpacks and confusion. Caleb stared at Valeria with a solemnness far beyond his age. Adrian clung to his stuffed bear, eyes swollen from days of crying.
Valeria felt something crack inside her chest.
They looked like Gideon. Both of them. The dark curls. The dimples. The eyes that once charmed her into forgiveness over and over again.
She turned to the nanny assigned to help temporarily. "Set up the east wing. I want them comfortable. But I don't want them near Ella's room."
The nanny nodded.
As they walked away, Adrian looked over his shoulder and waved.
Valeria froze—then nodded stiffly.
She wasn't ready.
The mansion that once echoed with business dinners and charity gala prep now fell into unfamiliar silence, interrupted only by soft footsteps and the sound of small voices echoing down the east wing.
Ella found herself lingering outside the boys' room more often than she intended. At first, it was curiosity. Then it became something else. She couldn't explain it.
"Want to draw with me?" she asked one afternoon, standing in the doorway.
Caleb looked up from the floor, where he was carefully building a tower of wooden blocks. "Are you my sister?" he asked softly.
Ella hesitated. The word stung. It didn't feel right on her tongue. "I don't know," she answered honestly. "But I can be your friend."
Caleb smiled—small, hesitant, but genuine.
They sat together by the low table, sketching side by side. Caleb was careful, quiet, and focused. Adrian, meanwhile, had fallen asleep curled up on the couch with his bear.
Ella glanced at him. "He's small for his age."
"He misses Mommy," Caleb whispered.
Ella stopped drawing. "Do you miss her too?"
He nodded. "But I don't like her anymore."
Her eyes widened.
Caleb looked up. "She told me if I ever told anyone about the medicine she gave Daddy, I wouldn't get to stay with him anymore."
Ella's heart thudded in her chest. "You… you saw her do it?"
He nodded solemnly. "She said it would make him love us more."
---
Downstairs, Valeria stood with a trembling cup of tea in her hand. Paul Ridley was on speakerphone.
"You need to listen carefully," he said. "There's been chatter about Catherine's statement during transport. The authorities are reopening investigations into the household staff."
Valeria's brow furrowed. "You mean the cook and the doctor?"
"No," Paul said. "They're talking about Doreen."
Valeria's blood ran cold.
"She disappeared after Gideon's death. The authorities believe she might've known about the poisoning. Or worse—she may have helped cover it up."
"But she was my employee," Valeria whispered.
Paul sighed. "There's more. Someone's been seen near the Monroe estate. A neighbor reported a woman who fits Doreen's description watching the grounds from a distance."
Valeria turned toward the tall windows overlooking the backyard. The hedge line swayed with wind—but her eyes caught something—a shadow that moved too deliberately.
She dropped the teacup. It shattered across the marble floor.
---
Later that night, a letter arrived.
No stamp. No return address. Just a cream envelope placed carefully under the heavy brass knocker of the front door.
The butler brought it in with a wary expression.
"To Mrs. Valeria Monroe," he said.
She took it and opened it in the study.
The handwriting was familiar.
"You didn't deserve him either. Don't pretend you didn't know what he was doing. You turned a blind eye until it was too late. Now you'll live with what's left."
It wasn't signed.
But Valeria knew.
Doreen was back.
Valeria couldn't sleep.
She paced her room, rereading the anonymous letter. She knew that handwriting—sharp, slanted, the way Doreen had written grocery lists when she still worked as housekeeper, cook, and occasional nanny. Doreen had once been part of the family. Trusted. Dependable.
Until the affair. Until the poison. Until Gideon's body went cold in the very bed where he'd once whispered promises of forever.
A knock startled her.
It was Ella, barefoot, in her nightshirt, holding her sketchpad tightly to her chest. "I saw someone outside," she said, her voice shaky. "Near the greenhouse. I think… I think she's watching us."
Valeria didn't ask who. They both knew.
---
Meanwhile, in the east wing, Caleb tossed and turned in his bed. A soft thud near the window woke him. He sat up, eyes wide.
Something moved outside.
He crept to the window, pulling back the curtain. A woman stood near the trellis vines, half-hidden in shadow. Long coat. Scarf. She raised a finger to her lips—shhh.
Caleb's breath caught in his throat. "Mommy?"
The woman didn't speak.
Just as quickly as she appeared, she turned and disappeared into the darkness.
---
Paul Ridley arrived at dawn with two armed security men in tow. "From now on, no one enters or leaves the estate without clearance. And Valeria—Doreen isn't the only problem. We've discovered something about Catherine."
Valeria crossed her arms. "What now?"
"She's filed a sealed statement through her attorney, to be opened only if anything happens to her. It names accomplices."
Valeria narrowed her eyes. "She already confessed."
"Yes. But she didn't name everyone. That statement could ruin more than reputations. It could tear your family apart."
---
That night, Ella sat with Caleb on the floor, reading him one of their old books. Adrian had fallen asleep, again curled beside the bear that never left his grasp.
Suddenly, a noise echoed down the hall.
Heavy. Slow. Footsteps.
Ella stood and cracked the door open.
She saw her mother—dressed in a silk robe, storming toward the back staircase, flashlight in hand.
Ella followed.
Down the stairs. Past the kitchen. Through the parlor. Toward the rear garden doors.
Valeria threw open the double glass panels.
"Show yourself!" she barked into the cold night.
A figure stepped out from behind the statue of Gideon's father.
Slender. Weathered. Pale hands stained with time.
"Hello, Valeria," Doreen said with a chilling smile. "Long time."
Valeria's breath caught. "You shouldn't be here."
"I know everything," Doreen whispered. "About Gideon. About Catherine. About you."
Valeria's fingers clenched the flashlight like a weapon. "What do you want?"
"I want what I'm owed," Doreen said softly. "You all think he was yours. But I raised him. Loved him longer than either of you. And now? You'll all pay for what you let happen."
A sudden wind gust sent leaves spiraling between them.
Doreen turned and walked into the shadows again.
Valeria didn't follow.
But she knew, from that moment on—this wasn't over.