CHAPTER 8 — THE TRAITOR
CHAPTER 8 — THE TRAITOR
The word followed me everywhere.
Traitor.
It was written between the lines of every document.
Hidden inside every confession.
Whispered by every ghost my family had buried.
For thirty years, I believed my mother was the only monster inside Waldorf Estate.
I was wrong.
The truth was much worse.
Monsters were never born alone.
They were created by people who stood beside them.
People who watched.
People who helped.
People who stayed silent.
I returned to the mansion before sunrise.
Again.
I hated that place.
But hatred was not enough to keep me away.
Not anymore.
The Waldorf Estate had become a graveyard of memories.
Every hallway held a piece of my past.
Every room contained a version of myself I barely recognized.
The child who wanted her mother's approval.
The teenager who learned to hide pain.
The woman who finally decided she would rather destroy everything than continue living inside a lie.
Detective Vance followed behind me.
“You haven't slept.”
I didn't answer.
Because sleep was impossible.
Not after learning there had been three daughters.
Not after seeing Isabella alive.
Not after discovering my entire childhood had been built around a secret.
Vance looked at me.
“You believe the woman from last night was Isabella.”
“Yes.”
“And you believe she knows who murdered your family.”
“Yes.”
“And you believe your mother knows more than she's saying.”
I stopped walking.
“Detective.”
He looked at me.
“My mother has spent her entire life saying less than she knows.”
We returned to the hidden room beneath the west wing.
The police had searched it after we left.
But they hadn't found what I was looking for.
Because they didn't know Victoria.
They didn't know how she thought.
My mother never hid important things in obvious places.
She hid them where people would never look.
Inside memories.
Inside emotions.
Inside people.
I walked toward the old bookshelf.
Vance watched.
“What are you doing?”
“Finding what she wanted me to find.”
He frowned.
“You think she left clues?”
I touched the edge of an old book.
“No.”
I pulled it out.
“I think she left a trap.”
Behind the book was another compartment.
Smaller.
Older.
Inside was a single envelope.
My name was written on it.
ELENA.
My hands froze.
Vance noticed.
“Open it.”
I stared at the handwriting.
My mother's.
Of course.
Even from beyond her secrets...
She was still controlling the conversation.
I opened the envelope.
Inside was a letter.
Only one page.
Only a few sentences.
My daughter,
If you are reading this, then Daniel failed to protect you.
My heart stopped.
Daniel.
Not Isabella.
Not Victoria.
Daniel.
He always believed he could save people.
That was his weakness.
I continued reading.
He thought love could break the Waldorf curse.
He was wrong.
My fingers tightened around the paper.
Because suddenly I understood.
My mother wasn't surprised Daniel was involved.
She expected it.
The truth about your husband is hidden where he believed I would never look.
The library.
The library.
Where Daniel died.
Where my husband supposedly became another victim.
I looked at Vance.
“We need to go.”
The library was exactly how I remembered it.
Dark wood.
Old books.
A fireplace.
The room where my father spent most of his life pretending he was powerful.
The room where Daniel died.
Police had already searched it.
But something about it felt wrong.
Too clean.
Too arranged.
“Detective.”
Vance turned.
“What?”
“Did your team find evidence of a struggle?”
“No.”
“Anything unusual?”
He hesitated.
“No.”
I walked further into the room.
“That means Daniel wasn't attacked here.”
Vance looked at me.
“How do you know?”
“Because this room mattered too much.”
He waited.
“My family always performed.”
I touched the desk.
“Every death had a message.”
Daniel's desk remained untouched.
His personal items were still there.
His watch.
His pen.
His notebook.
A photograph of us.
I picked it up.
The only photograph in the entire house where I looked happy.
Not polite.
Not controlled.
Happy.
Daniel was the only person who knew the difference.
“You loved him.”
Vance's voice was quiet.
I put the photograph down.
“Yes.”
“Then why didn't he tell you what he knew?”
That question hurt more than I expected.
Because I didn't know.
Because that was the one betrayal I wasn't prepared for.
Daniel had always been my escape.
The person who promised he would never lie to me.
But he had.
I opened the desk drawer.
Empty.
Another drawer.
Empty.
The third drawer resisted.
I pulled harder.
A hidden compartment opened.
Inside was a small recorder.
My heart dropped.
Vance immediately picked it up.
“Is that his?”
“Yes.”
The detective pressed play.
For several seconds, there was only static.
Then Daniel's voice.
My entire body froze.
“Elena.”
Just hearing him say my name almost destroyed me.
“If you're hearing this, then something happened.”
A pause.
“I wanted to tell you everything.”
His voice shook.
“But I was afraid.”
I closed my eyes.
Daniel.
The one person who was supposed to be different.
The one person who promised me honesty.
“I found out what your family did.”
A pause.
“Not just Isabella.”
My breathing stopped.
“The others too.”
Vance looked at me.
Others.
Daniel continued.
“Victoria didn't erase one daughter.”
Silence.
“She erased anyone who threatened her.”
The recording continued.
“I thought I could expose her.”
Daniel laughed softly.
A broken sound.
“I thought evidence mattered.”
Another pause.
“But I underestimated her.”
My hands trembled.
Because I knew that feeling.
Everyone underestimated Victoria once.
And everyone paid.
“She found out I was investigating.”
The recording became quieter.
“She gave me a choice.”
Vance leaned closer.
“What choice?”
Daniel's voice answered.
“Leave Elena.”
My heart broke.
“She told me if I stayed, Elena and Lily would suffer.”
Silence.
A terrible silence.
“And I believed her.”
I stopped breathing.
Because suddenly Daniel's distance made sense.
The coldness.
The strange behavior.
The nights he disappeared.
I thought he was leaving me.
I thought he was hiding something from me.
He was trying to protect me.
But he had made one mistake.
He trusted my mother.
Daniel continued.
“I know Elena will hate me.”
A pause.
“She should.”
My eyes burned.
“But I need her alive.”
The recording ended.
For a long time, nobody spoke.
Then Vance quietly said:
“He wasn't the traitor.”
I looked at the recorder.
“No.”
My voice broke slightly.
“He was the person who tried to stop them.”
The detective looked toward the window.
“Then who betrayed you?”
I already knew.
Because the answer had been there all along.
The person who had access to everything.
The person who knew every secret.
The person who survived.
My phone rang.
Unknown number.
Again.
I answered.
This time, a man spoke.
A voice I hadn't heard in years.
But I knew it instantly.
My blood turned cold.
“Hello, Elena.”
I couldn't move.
Because there was only one person who could make me feel like a child again.
One person who could make fear return after I thought I had buried it.
“Father?”
Silence.
Then a quiet laugh.
“No.”
My grip tightened.
“That's impossible.”
Because my father was dead.
I saw his body.
The police confirmed it.
Everyone knew.
Then the voice said:
“Your mother wanted you to believe I was.”
The world tilted.
“What are you saying?”
A pause.
Then:
“I was never her victim, Elena.”
My heart stopped.
“I was her partner.”
The call ended.
Detective Vance looked at me.
“What happened?”
I slowly lowered the phone.
My face felt numb.
“My father is alive.”
The room became silent.
Then I whispered the words that changed everything.
May you like
“And he was never innocent.”
END OF CHAPTER 8 — THE TRAITOR
