My Stepmother's Betrayal

I stood outside my father's study, my heart hammering so loudly I wondered if they could hear it through the door.

Mom deserved the truth. I deserve the truth.

And they were going to give it to me — one way or another.

I pushed the door open without knocking.

"Dad," I said, my voice steady despite the storm raging inside me, "we need to talk."

He looked up from his papers, his eyes flicking with mild surprise before they hardened into something unreadable. "Nina? It's late. What's wrong?"

"You know exactly what's wrong." I stepped closer, gripping the edge of his desk. "I know about you and Mirabel. I know you were together while Mom was still alive."

His jaw tightened, but he stayed seated. "Nina, grief can make people imagine terrible things—"

"Don't lie to me!" My voice rose, sharp and raw. "I have her journal. I know she didn't just die from being 'sick.' She went to see a specialist — Dr. Patel — when she realised someone was poisoning her."

A flicker of something — fear? Anger? — crossed his face before he forced a sigh. "Nina, you've always had an active imagination—"

"You think I'm making this up?" I laughed, but it came out hollow. "Her journal. The photo she hid in her jewelry box. The way you and Mirabel are playing house already while her grave is still fresh!"

A soft sound made me spin around. Mirabel stood in the doorway, a mug of tea in her hand — so calm, so perfect.

A snake in silk.

"Nina, darling," she said sweetly, stepping inside, "you're exhausted. You've been through so much—"

"Don't," I spat. "Don't pretend you care. You were my mom's best friend. She trusted you. And you betrayed her — with him."

For a heartbeat, the fake warmth in Mirabel's eyes flickered into cold steel. She crossed the room, placing a hand on Dad's shoulder like she owned him.

My father finally stood, trying to keep his voice calm. "Nina, you need rest. Let's talk when you're thinking clearly."

"Clearly?" I hissed. "You think I don't see you both for what you are? You're murderers. You poisoned Mom — because she knew too much about your dirty deals."

Mirabel's lips curved into that perfect, polite smile. "Sweetheart, your mother was very ill. She was confused. She imagined things."

"Enough!" I snapped. My hands were shaking, but I didn't care. "I know what you're hiding — offshore accounts, fake charities. Mom was going to expose it all. She wrote it down. And when I find proof, I'll make you pay."

Dad's eyes darkened. "Nina, I won't let you destroy this family over some paranoid fantasy."

I stepped back, disgust rising like bile. "You destroyed this family the moment you betrayed her."

I turned and pushed past Mirabel, her cold perfume choking me.

As I reached the hallway, I heard her hiss softly to Dad, "She's going to be a problem."

Upstairs, I collapsed on my bed, my mind racing. I pulled out my phone and checked it for the hundredth time — still nothing from Dr. Patel. Please… just answer me.

Sophia was by my side in minutes after my frantic texts. She wrapped me in a hug, grounding me.

"Hey, hey — deep breaths," she whispered. "Tell me everything."

I poured it all out — the study, the journal, the photo, the hidden accounts, the specialist Mom saw behind their backs.

Sophia's eyes flashed with fire. "These people are monsters."

I wiped my tears. "I need to prove it. But if I push too hard—"

"They'll come for you," she finished for me. "Then we'll get smarter. We'll find the missing pieces. You have me, okay?"

I nodded, a new resolve hardening in my chest. "I'm not stopping. Mom died fighting to expose them. I won't let her down."

Hours later, we were still piecing clues together when Sophia's phone buzzed. She read the message, eyes widening.

"What is it?" I asked.

"A source. Says they knew your mom. They have information about what really happened to her — but they want to meet. Tonight."

A shiver of dread ran through me. "It could be a trap."

Sophia grabbed my hand. "Or it could be the proof we need. We'll be careful. We'll go together."

The café on the outskirts of town was nearly empty, its neon sign flickering like a dying star. We slipped into a corner booth, hearts pounding.

A woman appeared from the shadows. Nervous eyes, pale hands — she introduced herself as Emily, a friend of Rachel's.

"Your mother… she was brave," Emily whispered, voice trembling. "She found evidence that your father and Mirabel were laundering money through fake charities — and that they were slowly poisoning her when she threatened to go public."

I clenched my fists under the table. "You're sure?"

Emily slid a small folder across to me. "It's all in here. She was going to meet with a specialist — Dr. Patel — for more tests to prove the poisoning. But she never got the chance."

Sophia leaned forward. "Why tell us now?"

Emily's eyes darted to the dark window behind me. "Because you're in danger. They know you're digging. They won't let you ruin everything they've built."

Outside, the rain had started again. Sophia and I stepped into the night, our breath steaming in the cold air.

Across the street, a black car idled — headlights on us like eyes.

Sophia's hand slipped into mine. "They're watching."

I nodded, my pulse a drumbeat of dread. "They want me silent. Just like Mom."

Sophia squeezed my hand. "Then they picked the wrong girl."