CHAPTER 230: BLOOD

Anna returned to her room, but the moment she stepped inside, Betty rushed toward her with urgency written all over her face.

"It’s Shawn," she said, eyes sharp with meaning as she handed over the phone.

Anna’s heart skipped. She snatched the phone quickly.

"Did you find anything?"

Ever since Mariam had told her about Kira’s shady involvement with dangerous people, Anna hadn’t been able to rest. She needed to know everything. And with Shawn tailing Kira for days now, they had learned more than she expected—Kira’s double life, her wild nights drenched in drugs and alcohol, the reckless money she burned like she had an endless supply.

But what mattered most was the person backing her.

"I saw Kira talking to some guy outside her house," Shawn said, recalling every detail. "I can’t say if he’s the same man we’re looking for, but during the entire conversation, she looked... tense. Stressed."

Anna’s brows knitted together.

"Have you found out who he is?"

"Not yet. I’m working on it," he replied. Then a pause—too long, too heavy. "But I did find something."

Anna’s stomach tightened. "Shawn, what is it?"

He hesitated, and that alone made her pulse spike.

"That man lives in the same neighborhood and—"

"And?" she snapped, the tension crawling up her spine.

"...and it’s the same house your mother visited a few days ago."

The world seemed to drop out from under her. Anna’s shoulders slumped as her lips parted soundlessly, like a fish gasping for breath. Her mind reeled, trying to wrap around his words, but they kept echoing:

Her mother. That house. That man.

Everything suddenly felt far more dangerous than she had imagined.

Shawn was never supposed to know anything about Roseline. But while digging through Kira’s movements, cross-checking every camera around her neighbourhood, he had stumbled onto something Anna wished had stayed buried—footage of her mother walking straight into the same house.

"Shawn, I want you to find out everything about that man," Anna said in a single rushed breath, adrenaline flooding her voice. "His name, age, what he does—and what are his intention towards Kira. I want every detail."

"Okay," he replied firmly, and the line clicked dead a second later.

Anna stood frozen. A heavy weight pressed against her ribs as she tightened her grip around the phone, knuckles turning white. She had brushed off her mother’s visit before—told herself it must be related to charity work, just another one of Roseline’s social obligations.

But now... now those comforting assumptions shattered.

Shawn’s discovery clawed at her mind, whispering doubts she couldn’t silence.

If the man Kira met was the same person her mother had visited...

Then what on earth was Roseline doing there?

Why was she involved with someone connected to Kira’s dangerous world?

A cold shiver chased down Anna’s spine as the realization sank deeper—this wasn’t just about Kira anymore. This was bigger. Messier. And somehow, her mother was in the thick of it.

***

The rest of the day passed in a blur, Anna moving through it on autopilot. When she finally packed up to head home, her mind kept circling back to the same chilling thought—her mother walking into that house.

Halfway through the drive, she abruptly changed her mind.

Instead of going home, she pulled out her phone and dialed her mother. She needed answers, needed to see Roseline’s face when she asked the questions clawing at her chest.

’Come on... pick up,’ she muttered under her breath as the phone rang.

But the call didn’t connect.

She frowned and tried again—once, twice, three times. Each attempt ended the same way: no response, no ring, nothing but a cold silence on the other end.

A knot formed in her stomach.

Roseline’s phone was never unreachable. Not unless something was wrong... or unless she didn’t want to be found.

The longer Roseline’s phone was unreachable, the more Anna’s felt the void increas in her chest.

***

Meanwhile, inside the Golden Plaza Hotel, the atmosphere buzzed with celebration. Roseline stood at the center of it all—surrounded by committee members, applauding guests, and several key investors who had come specifically to honor her dedication and hard work. Laughter, clinking glasses, and warm praise filled the decorated hall.

But not everyone shared the joy.

In a shadowed corner, a certain someone watched with a tight smile that didn’t reach her eyes. The moment yet another group walked past her to congratulate Roseline, Ester’s expression twisted. She scoffed under her breath, tossed back the rest of her champagne in one sharp gulp, and walked out.

Storming through the doors and into the cool night air of the garden, she sucked in a deep breath, her frustration clawing at her throat.

She had tried everything tonight—carefully chosen words, an extravagant gown, forced laughs, even subtle hints about her own contributions. All in the hope of overshadowing Roseline. To shine. To be seen.

But instead, she had been ignored. Invisible in a room filled with people who preferred Roseline’s effortless grace and sincerity.

"I should’ve never come here," Ester muttered bitterly. "This place is more suffocating than my own house."

Ester might have been a well-known socialite, respected in name, but that respect never followed her home. In her husband’s eyes, she was still a disappointment—never achieving enough, never earning the admiration she desperately craved.

Tonight only added salt to the wound.

Not only had she failed to get into Roseline’s good graces, she had also brought shame upon herself by being the reason their plan to marry Fiona to Daniel had been exposed. A failure in social circles and within her own family.

Her jaw clenched as she stared at the glittering hall through the glass. The applause inside seemed to mock her.

Always Roseline. Always someone else. Never Ester.

She balled her hand into a tight fist, ready to storm out of the garden entirely, when something—or rather, someone—caught her eye in the shadows.

A figure moving quickly, almost furtively.

Ester’s brows knitted together. She squinted, trying to see clearly through the dim lights filtering from the hall. When recognition finally hit, her throat went dry.

"Roseline?" she whispered, stunned.

There was no mistaking her—elegant dress, familiar posture, but her steps were hurried, almost frantic. She wasn’t heading toward any exit that led back into the party. She was moving deeper into the darkened side of the garden, away from the crowd, away from the applause that had been showering her minutes ago.

What is she doing?

Wasn’t Roseline supposed to be basking in the spotlight? Accepting praise, smiling for photos, enjoying the night that had been arranged in her honor?

Where is she running off to?

Ester muttered under her breath, confusion and curiosity swirling dangerously together. For a moment, she considered minding her own business—but her instincts tugged hard. Something about Roseline’s urgency felt wrong.

And Ester’s conscience—or perhaps her desperation for relevance—pushed her forward.

Quietly, she began to follow her, careful to maintain some distance. Her heels clicked softly against the stone path, and once, she stumbled on an uneven tile, catching herself just in time before she made any noise that would give her away.

The more she watched, the more certain Ester became—something was definitely wrong with Roseline. The woman wasn’t just stepping out for air; she was rushing, almost as if she didn’t want anyone to see where she was going.

But then, in the blink of an eye... she was gone.

"Huh?" Ester froze, eyes widening in disbelief.

Roseline had been just a few steps ahead of her, her silhouette clear even in the dim garden lighting. But now—nothing. Not a shadow, not a rustle, not even the sound of her footsteps.

Where did she disappear to?

She spun slowly, scanning the garden, the hedges, the darkened path beyond. Roseline was nowhere. Ester’s heart thudded as she realized she must have let her attention slip for a second—just a second—and in that short distraction, she’d lost track of her completely.

"How...?" she whispered to herself, a ripple of unease sliding down her spine.

Something wasn’t adding up. But even with confusion prickling her skin, Ester forced herself to keep walking. Maybe Roseline had simply taken another path. Maybe she would spot her just around the bend.

She turned the corner—

—and nearly jumped out of her skin.

A figure dressed in black burst out of the shadows, sprinting past her so fast the air whooshed against her cheek.

"Ah!" Ester screamed, stumbling back as her heart exploded in terror. The person didn’t stop, didn’t look at her—just brushed past with violent urgency, something slipping from their hand as they fled.

Ester’s breath hitched. Her gaze dropped to the ground.

A metallic glint.

Her stomach twisted.

"K-Knife..." she whispered.

She bent down instinctively but froze midway when she saw the dark smear staining the blade. Blood.

Cold dread crawled up her spine.

Before she could think, she spun and ran in the direction the figure had come from. Her heels scraped hard against the stone, but she didn’t feel the pain—only the rising panic choking her.

She skidded to a halt a few steps later.

Her world collapsed.

"R–Roseline..." she choked.

Roseline lay sprawled on the ground, unmoving, her elegant gown stained, her skin too still, too pale.

Ester’s heart plummeted. Terror seized her entire body, turning her scream into pure, raw instinct.

This time she didn’t hold back— she screamed her lungs out, the sound tearing through the quiet garden and drawing everyone’s attention in seconds.