The grand chandelier in the main hall glittered like fractured stars, but Angela hardly noticed as she slipped into one of the quieter corridors. The hallway was a labyrinth of dim lighting and muted whispers. Angela moved through it with purpose, her footsteps echoing faintly against the marble floors. The shadows seemed alive, coiling around her as if to mock her growing unease.

　　Elena's words echoed in her mind, each syllable a dagger carving doubt into her thoughts. The weight of confusion and anger was too much to bear. She needed answers, real ones, not the evasions Julie always offered. Her heels clicked against the polished floor as she searched, her heart pounding harder with every step. At the far end of the hallway, she spotted her mother, leaning against the wall with her phone pressed to her ear.

　　Julie's usual composure seemed frayed; her voice was sharper, more impatient. The faint glow of moonlight softened her mother's silhouette, but it did nothing to temper Angela's rising frustration. For a moment, Angela hesitated, watching the woman she had idolized for so long.

　　Angela waited until Julie ended the call before stepping forward. "Mom, we need to talk."

　　Julie turned, her expression instantly shifting from irritation to a carefully crafted mask of warmth. "Angela, darling, Shouldn't you be enjoying the gala? What's wrong?"

　　"Don't pretend like you don't know," Angela stepped closer, her arms crossing defensively. "I think we're past pretending everything is fine. I just spoke to Elena."

　　Julie's smile faltered, a flicker of something unreadable crossing her face. "Elena? What could she possibly have to say to you?"

　　Angela narrowed her eyes. "Enough to make me start asking questions. Real ones. Ones you've been avoiding for years. She told me things that don't add up. About you. About Michael. About everything."

　　"That woman is trouble. I told you to stay away from her," she said, her tone dripping with disdain.

　　"Why?" Angela's voice rose, her frustration boiling over. "Because she might actually tell me the truth? God knows you won't."

　　Julie's expression hardened, but her voice remained calm. "Angela, this isn't the time or place…"

　　"Don't," Angela interrupted, her voice trembling with barely restrained anger. "Don't brush me off. Not this time." She took a step closer, her gaze piercing. "I want to know the truth. About you. About Michael. About why everyone around me seems to know more about my life than I do."

　　Julie's eyes flashed with anger, but she quickly reined it in. She stepped closer, lowering her voice. "You don't understand the stakes, Angela. The things I've done, the choices I've made, they were all to protect this family. To protect you."

　　"Protect me?" Angela's laugh was sharp and bitter. "Is that what you call it? Lying to me my entire life? Manipulating everyone around you? What are you hiding, Mom? What aren't you telling me?"

　　Julie stepped forward, her voice low and measured. "Michael is... complicated. He's a necessary evil in this world, Angela. One I've had to tolerate to keep our family intact."

　　Angela stared at her, incredulous. "Intact? What family? The one built on lies?"

　　Julie's facade cracked, a flicker of vulnerability flashing across her face. "You don't know what you're saying."

　　"Then tell me!" Angela's voice rose, echoing through the empty hallway. "What are you hiding? What aren't you telling me about my father?"

　　Julie froze. For a moment, Angela thought she wouldn't answer, but then her mother's shoulders slumped ever so slightly.

　　"You were never meant to know," Julie said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

　　Angela's heart raced. "Know what?"

　　Her expression was carefully blank. "Angela…"

　　"Don't," Angela interrupted, her voice breaking. "Don't lie to me. Not about this."

　　Julie's mask slipped, and for the first time, Angela saw something raw and vulnerable beneath. "Your father…" She paused, as if the words were too heavy to speak. "Your father wasn't the man you think he was."

　　"What does that mean?" Angela demanded, her heart pounding.

　　"It means…" Julie hesitated, then shook her head. "It's complicated. And it's not something you need to worry about right now."

　　"Stop deciding what I need to know!" Angela shouted, her tears spilling over. "Just tell me the truth!" Julie reached out, but Angela stepped back, her voice trembling. "You're just like Michael. You use people, lie to them, control them. I'm done being your puppet."

　　Julie stepped closer, her expression softening. "I loved him, Angela. But he wasn't someone I could build a life with. He… he was dangerous. I thought keeping the truth from you was the right thing to do."

　　Angela staggered back a step, her mind reeling. "You thought lying to me was the right thing to do?"

　　But Julie said nothing more, and Angela turned and stormed down the hallway, leaving Julie standing alone, her mask of composure slipping for the first time that evening.

　　Edmund sat in the dimly lit office, the glow of a desk lamp casting sharp shadows across his face. Across from him, a man with a neatly trimmed beard and a demeanor as sharp as his tailored suit. A thin folder lay open on the desk between them, its contents stark and damning.

　　"You're not going to like this," the investigator said, tapping a photograph.

　　"This is her?" Edmund asked, his voice low.

　　The investigator nodded. "Elena Moreno. Journalist, yes, but with a skeleton or two in her closet. This one could ruin her career. Maybe even her life. This was five years ago."

　　Edmund's gaze didn't leave the photograph. "That's your silver bullet?"

　　The investigator shrugged. "Call it leverage. Use it however you see fit. But if you're serious about neutralizing her, this is your best shot. It's not just the case. She's made enemies, stepped on toes. People like her always have skeletons."

　　Edmund leaned back, the weight of the decision pressing down on him. "And if I use it?"

　　"That depends," the investigator said, his tone pragmatic. "If she doesn't backoff, she's finished. Her reputation, her career, it all goes up in flames. She won't be able to touch you or your family."

　　Edmund's fingers drummed against the desk. "And Angela?"

　　The investigator hesitated. "Angela doesn't need to know. You're doing this for her, right?"

　　Edmund's jaw tightened. "She's already questioning everything. If she finds out I've done this…" He trailed off, his gaze darkening. The thought of hurting Angela, of breaking the fragile trust they'd started to rebuild, made his stomach turn. But the alternative, Elena exposing everything was unthinkable.

　　The investigator leaned forward, his tone dropping. "You have the ammunition. The question is, will you pull the trigger?"

　　Edmund stared at the photo for a long moment, his mind racing. "And destroy her in the process?" His voice was quieter now, almost to himself. "I'm not sure I'm willing to cross that line."

　　The investigator sighed, closing the folder. "That's a choice only you can make. Else you'd better find another way. But be quick about it. Elena isn't going to wait. So, you need to decide fast."

　　Later that night, Edmund found himself in the garden, the crisp night air offering a brief respite from the chaos. He stood by the fountain, its gentle trickle a soothing contrast to the storm inside him. His usual air of calm confidence was replaced by something heavier, more contemplative.

　　Angela found Edmund in the garden. She hesitated at first, unsure if she wanted to face him after everything, but the pull was undeniable. Slowly, she approached, the sound of the fountain masking her footsteps.

　　"Edmund?"

　　He turned to see Angela approaching, her expression a mix of exhaustion and vulnerability. For a moment, neither of them spoke.

　　"Angela, shouldn't you be inside?"

　　She shook her head, sitting down beside him. The cool night air wrapped around them, carrying the faint scent of jasmine.

　　"I needed to get away," she admitted, her voice barely audible.

　　Edmund nodded, his gaze drifting to the water. "I know the feeling."

　　"I feel like I can't breathe in there. Everyone's lying, hiding something. I don't even know who to trust anymore."

　　Her voice cracked, and Edmund's chest tightened. "Angela… You can trust me," he said softly, his voice steady but heavy with unspoken guilt.

　　She met his gaze, searching for something, anything that felt real. "Can I?"

　　"Yes," he said firmly, his hand brushing against hers. The contact sent a jolt through her, and for a moment, the world seemed to still.

　　Neither of them moved, the unspoken tension between them thickening. But before either could act on it, Angela pulled her hand away, the moment breaking like glass.

　　"I don't know what to believe anymore," she whispered, standing abruptly.

　　Edmund rose with her, his expression conflicted. "Believe this, Angela. No matter what happens, I will always protect you."

　　"Do you ever feel like you're drowning in lies?" she asked, her voice tinged with sadness and her eyes searching his.

　　Edmund's lips curved into a bittersweet smile. "Every day," he admitted, his voice low. He turned to her, "But I'd drown a hundred times over if it meant keeping you safe."

　　Angela's breath hitched, and she looked away, her thoughts a chaotic tangle. "I don't even know who I am anymore. Everything feels like it's falling apart."

　　"You're stronger than you think," Edmund said, stepping closer. "Stronger than any of them realize."

　　Angela looked up at him, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "I don't want to be strong. I just want to know the truth."

　　For a moment, the space between them felt impossibly small. Edmund reached out, brushing a tear from her cheek. His touch lingered, and Angela didn't pull away.

　　"Whatever happens," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, "I'll be here. For you."

　　Their eyes locked, the unspoken tension crackling like static. She stared at him, the weight of his words sinking in. But instead of comforting her, they only added to her confusion.

　　"Do you plan to leave after the gala ends?" Angela asked in a soft tone, looking straight into Edmund's eyes.

　　"Only if you want me to." He brushed a hair off her face and tucked it behind her ear. "What do you want?"

　　She was quiet for a while before looking up again. "I know you never said you love me. But I love you. Can you make me forget everything for the night? Can you be mine and only mine for the night?"