I stared at the message until the words blurred.
> "If you want to know who really killed your mother… stay away from James Windsor."
My fingers trembled as I read it again. It wasn't just a warning.
It was a threat.
I looked up, and James was still kneeling in front of me, watching my every reaction. But there was something in his eyes now—something unreadable. Concern? Fear? Guilt?
"Who else knows?" I whispered, voice dry.
"About what?"
"About my mother. About her working for your family. About what really happened."
James hesitated.
And that single hesitation cracked something inside me.
"You're still hiding something," I breathed, backing away. "Aren't you?"
His jaw tensed. "It's not that simple."
"It never is," I snapped, pushing past him and grabbing my phone.
He stood quickly, blocking the door. "Amelia—just wait. Let me explain."
"Explain what? That my mother wasn't just 'dead'—that she was silenced? That she worked in your house and then 'disappeared' when she got pregnant with me?"
I looked him dead in the eyes.
"Are you saying your family is responsible?"
James flinched. "I don't know."
Wrong answer.
He reached for my hand, but I pulled away like his touch burned.
"I trusted you, James. I let you in." My voice cracked. "And now I don't know if you're the one protecting me… or hiding me from the truth."
His brows furrowed. "Amelia, I've spent the last year digging into this. My father—he's not the man the public thinks he is. After my mother died, he remarried. Cold woman. Ruthless. Took control of everything. But back then—when your mother worked for us—things were already… off. Staff left without warning. Whispers in the halls. And then she was gone."
He paced, rubbing the back of his neck. "I started investigating quietly when I saw your adoption file. Something didn't add up. I found out she'd worked for us. Then the sealed records. Legal bribes. It's all buried."
"And you didn't tell me?"
"I was trying to protect you," he said quietly.
I let out a bitter laugh. "Everyone says that right before they destroy you."
There was a long silence between us.
"I got a message just now," I said at last, holding up my phone. "It says if I want to know who really killed my mother… I should stay away from you."
James's face turned to stone.
"What?" he asked coldly.
I showed him the screen. He read it twice, then clenched his fists.
"You're being watched."
My blood went cold. "What does that mean?"
"It means this isn't just a family scandal anymore. Someone doesn't want the truth out. Someone who's willing to scare you into silence."
His phone buzzed in his pocket, and his face darkened as he read a new message.
"They just sent one to me too."
He handed me his screen.
> "She doesn't belong to you. She never did. Keep your mouth shut before someone else ends up like Sophia Moore."
My knees nearly buckled.
"James…" My voice was barely a whisper. "What is this?"
But before he could answer, a loud crash sounded from downstairs.
James moved instantly, pulling me behind him. "Stay here," he commanded.
"No."
"I said stay, Amelia."
But I followed him anyway.
We rushed down the stairs to find the front door of the Blake mansion wide open, the cold wind howling in from outside. A brick lay on the marble floor, shattered glass scattered around it.
I picked up the note taped to the brick.
> "Curiosity killed the girl. And love buried her."
James took the note, face hardening. "They're escalating."
"Who are they, James?"
He didn't answer.
Because the truth was—he didn't know.
Or worse… he did.
---
Later that night, I sat alone in my room, staring at my mother's old necklace—the only thing I'd kept from my real family.
The pendant clicked open.
Inside, a tiny photograph of a woman smiling softly. And tucked behind it, something I'd never noticed before.
A piece of paper, so small and worn it was nearly illegible.
But I could still read the name scribbled in fading ink.
Eleanor Windsor.
My breath caught.
That wasn't James's stepmother.
That was his real mother.
The one who was supposed to be dead.
---