Selene's POV

Something inside me trembled—not because I believed him, but because a part of me wanted to. I pushed him away hard, my hands flat against his chest.

"Don't," I snapped. "Don't ever touch me again."

Frederick stepped back, his jaw tightening. I could see the flicker of pain in his eyes, but he didn't move closer. "Selene—"

"What do you want to show me?" I cut him off sharply, folding my arms to keep my hands from shaking. "You didn't drag me out here just to play games."

He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "Just answer one question first."

I frowned. "What question?"

He looked at me carefully, his voice calm but serious. "How was the relationship between your father and your mother before she died?"

The question caught me off guard. I blinked. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Just answer me," he said quietly.

I hesitated. "They weren't close. My mother was kind, but Father—" I stopped. "He was… strict. Controlling. Why are you asking this?"

Instead of replying, he pulled his phone from his pocket and handed it to me. "Watch this."

I looked at the screen. It was a video—shaky, recorded in a dim room. A woman appeared, sitting in front of the camera. She looked to be in her late forties, her eyes red like she'd been crying.

Then I saw him—Frederick—sitting across from her, his face calm but stern. "Tell her," he said in the video.

The woman's voice trembled. "I… I did it. I poisoned her."

My blood ran cold.

Frederick's voice came again in the video. "Why?"

She broke down, tears spilling. "Because your father paid me to."

My hands shook as I stared at the screen. "No…" I whispered. "No, that's not true."

Frederick's voice in real life was quiet. "It is."

I looked up at him, my voice cracking. "You told this woman to lie. You forced her to say that."

His expression stayed steady. "I didn't."

"You're lying!" I shouted, shoving the phone back into his chest. "You expect me to believe that my father killed my mother?"

Frederick met my eyes—hurt flashing across his face, but not anger. "I knew you wouldn't believe me," he said softly. "That's why I brought more proof."

"Come with me," Frederick said suddenly. His tone changed. "I know a witch. She can help you… see your mother. Just for a minute. I paid her a lot to do this."

My breath caught. "What?"

He stepped closer, his eyes fixed on me. "You don't have to believe me. But if you talk to her—if you talk to your mother—you'll know I'm not lying."

I shook my head slowly. "That's impossible. My mother's gone."

"She's not alive," he said quietly, "but her spirit hasn't fully crossed over. The witch can make the connection for a short time."

My heart twisted painfully. The idea was crazy… but the thought of hearing my mother's voice again made my throat tighten. "No," I said quickly, backing away. "This is insane. I'm not doing this."

Frederick sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Selene, please. I wouldn't risk this if it wasn't real. You have to see her. It's the only way you'll believe me."

I stared at him, torn between anger and desperate curiosity. His eyes—those stormy gray eyes—looked raw and honest. I hated that it made me want to trust him.

Finally, I whispered, "You're crazy."

A faint smile tugged at his lips. "Maybe. But so are you for meeting me out here."

He wasn't wrong.

I took a deep breath and muttered, "Fine. Just… one minute. Then we're done."

Frederick's shoulders dropped in relief. "That's all I need."

He led me to his car parked behind the old conservatory. I hesitated by the door, glancing at him one last time. "If this is a trick—"

He cut me off gently. "You'll be armed. You can kill me yourself."

I didn't answer, but I slid into the passenger seat. The engine started with a low growl, and the road ahead stretched into darkness.

Neither of us spoke during the drive. The air felt thick with questions I wasn't ready to ask. My fingers brushed the dagger strapped to my thigh, just in case.

After nearly twenty minutes, Frederick turned down a dirt path leading into a dense forest. The car bumped over roots and rocks until we reached a small wooden cabin. Smoke curled from the chimney, and faint lights flickered through the windows.

"This is it," he said, parking the car.

I stepped out slowly, the air colder here, heavier. "You're sure about this?" I whispered.

He nodded once. "Yes. She's expecting us."

My heart pounded. Every instinct screamed that this was a bad idea—but still, I followed him toward the witch's door.

As we approached, the door creaked open on its own. Candlelight spilled across the floor.

A woman stood inside, wrapped in dark robes, her silver eyes glowing faintly under the flickering flames.

She smiled—a slow, welcoming smile. "Ah," she said softly. "You must be Selene."

My breath hitched.

"Come in, child," she said softly, her voice smooth yet echoing strangely, like two people speaking at once.

I froze at the doorway, my hand tightening on the dagger hidden beneath my coat. Frederick gently touched my elbow. "It's alright," he murmured. "She won't hurt you. I won't let that happen."

The witch smiled faintly. "I only hurt those who are evil, and child, you are not."

That didn't help. I didn't trust her or Frederick himself.

The inside of the cabin smelled like herbs and smoke. Candles flickered on every surface, their wax dripping down into messy rivers. Jars of strange liquids filled the shelves—some glowing faintly, others so dark I couldn't tell what was inside.

In the center of the room stood a small table covered with runes and a silver bowl filled with water.

"Sit," the witch said, pointing to a wooden chair beside the table. "Let's begin."