141
Alina’s POV
The house was silent as I made my way to the hidden room I had secretly arranged for Dean. I had to be cautious; no one could know he was here, especially now. Tomorrow was Finn’s funeral, and the emotions in the house were already running high.
When I finally reached the door, I hesitated. Taking a deep breath, I knocked softly. Dean opened the door, his sharp features illuminated by the dim light inside. His expression was unreadable, but there was a fire in his eyes—calculated and dangerous.
“We need to talk,” I said, stepping into the room.
Dean shut the door behind me and leaned against the wall, crossing his arms. “About what?”
“Finn,” I said firmly. “We need to come up with a plan to find out who killed him. Tomorrow’s the funeral, and people are starting to ask questions. We can’t keep sitting in silence.”
Dean smirked, his eyes gleaming with something that made my stomach turn. “Oh, I already have a plan.”
I blinked, taken aback. “You do?”
He walked over to the small table in the corner and picked up an object. It took me a moment to realize it was a gun. My breath caught in my throat.
“This,” he said, holding it up for me to see, “is the gun that killed Finn.”
Shock coursed through me. “How—where did you find that?”
Dean’s smirk widened. “I’ve been... doing some digging of my own.”
My head spun as questions flooded my mind. “Who does it belong to?”
Dean took a step closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Lia... and her lover, Luca.”
My eyes widened. “What? No. That’s impossible!”
“Oh, it’s very possible,” he said, his tone dripping with mockery. “I’ve got proof.”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. On the screen was a text message. I leaned in to read it, my heart pounding.
Lia: Come to my bedroom tonight. We need to talk.
The words blurred before my eyes as disbelief washed over me. “She knows you’re here?” I asked, my voice trembling.
Dean shrugged nonchalantly. “We’ve been in touch. She reached out to me the moment she found out I was back.”
My head snapped up. “Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?”
“I didn’t think it mattered,” he said with a smirk. “But now, it seems like it does.”
I clenched my fists, anger bubbling to the surface. “So, what’s your plan? Confront her? Expose her?”
“Not yet,” Dean replied, his tone calm. “Let her play her little games. I’ll make my move when the time is right.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Lia had been hiding so much from all of us, and now she was involved in Finn’s murder? It didn’t add up, but I couldn’t ignore the evidence.
“Fine,” I said, my voice hard. “I’ll be waiting to see how this unfolds.”
Dean’s smirk returned, and he pocketed his phone. “You won’t be disappointed.”
---
Lia’s POV
The night was unusually still, the kind of silence that made every creak of the house sound like a thunderclap. I lay in bed, the weight of the day pressing down on me. Tomorrow was Finn’s funeral, and I couldn’t shake the unease that had settled in my chest.
I must have dozed off because the next thing I knew, I heard the faint creak of my bedroom door. My eyes fluttered open, and for a moment, I thought I was dreaming. A dark figure loomed near the foot of my bed.
“Who’s there?” I mumbled, my voice groggy.
Before I could fully sit up, the figure pounced on me, pinning me down. A strong hand clamped over my mouth as the other tried to force my face toward theirs. I struggled against the weight, panic surging through me.
“Stop it!” I muffled against the hand, thrashing wildly.
Suddenly, the room was flooded with light. I froze as I heard a shrill scream. Alina stood by the door, her face twisted in rage.
“Dean!” she shouted. “What the hell are you doing?”
Dean scrambled off me, but the damage was done. I sat up, disheveled and confused, as Alina stormed into the room. She didn’t stop at Dean. Her furious gaze locked onto me.
“What is going on here?” I demanded, my voice shaking.
“You little slut!” Alina hissed, marching toward me. Before I could react, her hand connected with my cheek in a sharp slap that left my skin stinging. “You dare bring a man into this house, under this roof, after your husband was murdered?”
“What are you talking about?” I stammered, still reeling from the slap. “I didn’t bring anyone here!”
“Oh, really?” Alina sneered. “Then why was he in your room? And what’s this?”
She yanked open one of the drawers of my bedside table. My heart stopped as she pulled out a gun—the same gun Dean had shown her earlier.
“That’s not mine!” I cried, standing up. “I’ve never seen that before!”
By now, Bianca, Jenny, and several of the house staff had gathered outside the room, drawn by the commotion. Their shocked whispers filled the air as Alina brandished the gun like a trophy.
“Don’t even try to deny it,” she spat. “You’ve been sneaking around with Dean, plotting God knows what while pretending to mourn Finn.”
“That’s not true!” I shouted, my voice cracking with desperation. “I don’t even know why Dean is here!”
Dean, who had been silent until now, stepped forward with a smirk. “Oh, come on, Lia. Don’t act like you didn’t invite me. I have the texts to prove it.”
My blood ran cold. “What texts? I never—”
Before I could finish, Alina cut me off. “Save it for the police,” she snapped. “They’re on their way, and you’re going to rot in jail for what you’ve done.”
Panic clawed at my throat as I looked around the room, searching for someone—anyone—who might believe me. But all I saw were faces filled with suspicion and judgment.
Dean’s smirk widened, and Alina stood triumphant, the gun still clutched in her hand. The walls of the room seemed to close in around me as the weight of the accusations pressed down on my chest.
I was trapped. And for the first time, I wasn’t sure if I could find a way out.
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