The tension in the Harper mansion had never been so thick. An eerie silence had settled in, like the calm before a violent storm. Desmond paced in his study, Caroline's old journal spread open on his desk. The same journal Cinderella had once clutched to her chest in tears. Every page screamed of betrayal he'd failed to see — and now, he could no longer ignore it.
Rebecca's lies weren't just about cheating or manipulating—this was deeper. More sinister. Caroline had suspected something long before her death. Desmond had waved off her fears, convinced she was just emotionally fragile, but now… the guilt threatened to crush him.
He picked up his phone and dialed.
"Yes, I need to speak to Detective Harris," Desmond said into the receiver. "It's urgent."
---
Rebecca was in the parlor when Desmond emerged from his study. She had sensed the shift in the air. He hadn't spoken to her all morning. Not since the disastrous dinner party where Stephen's sabotage had exposed more than just petty jealousy — it revealed a deeply fractured family. And now, Desmond's silence chilled her more than any insult.
"You've been quiet," she said, trying to sound casual.
Desmond didn't respond immediately. He simply walked to the bar, poured himself a glass of water, and turned to face her.
"I made a call today," he said calmly.
Rebecca's eyes narrowed. "To whom?"
"The authorities."
She stiffened. "For what?"
"Caroline's accident," he said slowly. "I want a proper investigation opened. Into everything. Into you."
Her mask of indifference cracked. "You can't be serious."
"I am."
She stood abruptly. "After all these years, you're going to dredge up something that was ruled an accident?"
"Was it?" Desmond's voice was quiet, deadly. "Because the more I read, the more I realize it wasn't just fate that took Caroline from us. It was you. Your manipulations. Your ambition. Your need to control everything."
Rebecca's voice shook. "You don't have proof."
"Not yet," he said, stepping closer. "But I will. The way you crept into this house, into my life, the way you played me — I was a fool. But I'm done being fooled."
---
Upstairs, Cinderella stood by the hallway railing, listening.
She closed her eyes. This was it. The beginning of the end. Rebecca had ruled over the household like a queen. But now, her crown was cracking, and Cinderella would be there when it fell.
Later that day, Desmond called a private investigator and handed over everything Cinderella had found — the copies of Caroline's journal, the photos from the private files, the hidden correspondence, and most damning of all, the anonymous tip she had unearthed from a former housemaid who had left just after Caroline's death.
There was enough to warrant suspicion.
The authorities agreed to reopen the investigation.
---
The next few days were tense. The mansion was under quiet observation. Officers discreetly came and went. Rebecca, though clearly rattled, tried to maintain her composure. But her usual sharp tongue had dulled. Servants noticed. So did Cinderella.
Rebecca had tried, once more, to talk to Desmond in private.
"You're making a mistake," she said. "You're letting her poison you."
Desmond didn't look at her. "You poisoned yourself the moment you started playing games with lives."
"I loved you," she snapped.
"Then you never understood what love meant," he said coldly.
---
Meanwhile, Cinderella continued building her final case.
She met privately with Detective Harris and provided a voice recording — a secret conversation she had once overheard between Rebecca and Penelope. In it, Rebecca had slipped, implying she had "taken care of the problem" when referring to Caroline.
It wasn't a confession. But it was a crack.
And Cinderella knew… all cracks eventually widened.
---
Desmond sat on the balcony that evening, watching the sun set beyond the estate. His heart felt like it was breaking open with every revelation. He remembered Caroline's laughter. Her warm hands. The way she smelled of lavender and mint. He remembered the pain in her eyes during the final months — pain he had ignored, dismissed.
He wept quietly.
Not just for her.
But for himself. For Cinderella. For every moment lost to pride and blind trust.
His fists clenched. "I'll make this right, Caroline," he whispered. "I swear."
---
The next morning, Detective Harris returned.
"We've begun pulling traffic cam footage and revisiting the reports from the night of the accident," he said. "There are… inconsistencies. Things we didn't catch the first time because we weren't looking."
Desmond nodded, heart thudding. "Keep going."
"There's one more thing," Harris added. "We'd like to interview Rebecca formally. Not an arrest—yet. But she needs to come to the station."
"I'll make sure she does," Desmond said.
---
That night, Desmond called for a family dinner. Rebecca, sensing something was coming, dressed cautiously but didn't protest. Stephen and Penelope, now quieter than usual, kept their eyes low.
Cinderella arrived last.
The table was set, the candles lit, but no one touched their food.
Desmond looked around the table and spoke with a calm, but firm voice.
"This family has been through a lot. But tonight, we begin a cleansing. The lies stop here."
Rebecca tried to smile. "Desmond—"
"No," he cut in. "You will be going to the station tomorrow for a formal questioning regarding Caroline's death."
Penelope gasped.
Stephen looked like he might explode.
"You can't be serious!" Rebecca said, standing.
"I'm more serious than I've ever been."
She shook her head. "You're letting her ruin this family!"
"No," Cinderella said softly, "you did that all by yourself."
---
The dinner ended in silence. Rebecca stormed off, slamming her door. Stephen followed, dragging a confused Penelope behind.
Cinderella remained at the table, her fingers wrapped around a glass of untouched wine.
Desmond sat across from her. He looked tired. Broken. But there was resolve in his eyes.
"Thank you," he said.
Cinderella looked up.
"For not giving up. Even when I didn't deserve your patience."
"I wasn't patient," she said. "I was persistent."
A faint smile touched Desmond's lips. "That too."
They sat in the quiet.
And though the mansion was filled with shadows… the truth had begun to shine.