"I always felt something was wrong,remember when you told me my mother died when I was ten but how did you know such personal information" georgina asked madison with a face of suspiscion while madison tried to avoid the conversation "There is no time for this, did you not see everything that just happened and yet you want to talk now" Madison was going to avoid the topic but Georgina did not give in that easily so she pressured her until she had to talk "mum planned it all from the beginning

At once, Georgina’s chest tightened. She had grown up believing her mother was dead. That was what Father had always said, and what her stepmother repeated so often it became a script Georgina recited whenever someone asked. She died when I was very little.

“What about them?” Georgina asked cautiously.

Madison leaned closer, her voice dropping low. “You know how my mom—your stepmother—used to be your father’s secretary?”

“Yes,” Georgina said slowly. “She never lets me forget it. She loves to remind me how she went from taking notes for him to… managing the entire household.”

“Well, she wasn’t just his secretary,” Madison said with deliberate slowness. “She was his… temptation. And she tempted him so well that he fell for her—while your mother was still around.”

Georgina blinked. “That’s not possible. Father said—”

“Father lied,” Madison cut in, eyes gleaming as though savoring every word. “He didn’t tell you the full story, Georgina. Your mom didn’t die. She was… erased. Pushed out. My mother swayed him, convinced him to hide her away. He told you she was gone forever, but really, she was alive all along.”

The words struck Georgina like a slap.

Alive? Her mother? All the nights she had prayed to a grave she had never seen, all the years of mourning a woman whose face she only knew from a faded photograph—it had all been based on a lie?

“That’s not true,” Georgina whispered, though her voice trembled with doubt. “You’re just trying to hurt me.”

Madison shrugged. “Believe what you want. But if I were you, I’d start asking questions. Especially about why my mother is suddenly so nervous these days. You notice it, don’t you? The way she’s always checking the gates. The way she storms into rooms uninvited. She’s worried… about someone.”

Before Georgina could reply, a loud, deliberate knock shattered the silence.

Both girls froze.

The door flung open without waiting for permission. Standing there was her stepmother—tall, sharp-featured, her perfume too strong, her presence suffocating.

Her eyes swept the room like a hawk’s. “Did anyone come in here?” she demanded, her voice clipped and cold.

“No,” Georgina said quickly, forcing her tone to sound steady.

Her stepmother narrowed her gaze. “You’re lying. Someone’s been here. I can smell her.”

Her?

Georgina’s heart stuttered. Did she mean… her mother? The thought made her dizzy.

The stepmother’s heels clicked against the polished floor as she entered, each step heavy with arrogance. She scanned the corners of the room, the window, even the wardrobe. Madison shifted uneasily but kept her mouth shut, watching with a mix of curiosity and amusement.

“You know,” the stepmother said slowly, “a dangerous woman is on the loose. She was supposed to be… taken care of years ago. But some ghosts refuse to stay buried.”

Georgina gripped her hands tightly together in her lap, nails digging into her skin. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Her stepmother’s eyes, dark and piercing, locked on her. “If you see her… if she dares approach you, you will tell me. Immediately. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Georgina whispered, though her chest was screaming No.

The stepmother prowled further into the room, her eyes flicking toward Georgina’s desk. A sudden bolt of panic shot through Georgina. She had forgotten—the photograph.

A single picture she had found tucked in an old drawer weeks ago. A picture of her mother, smiling, holding a baby—her. Across the bottom of the photograph, written in hurried handwriting, were the words: I’m still alive.

Georgina had stared at that picture night after night, hiding it carefully between books or beneath her pillow. It was the only proof she had that her entire life had been built on lies.

“Stay away from my room,” Georgina said quickly, trying to distract her stepmother. “I have homework—”

But it was too late. The stepmother’s hand closed around the frame. She lifted it slowly, her expression hardening as her eyes scanned the message scrawled across it.

The silence in the room grew unbearable. Madison’s smirk faded. Georgina’s heart thudded against her ribs like a trapped bird.

Finally, the stepmother raised her gaze, pinning Georgina with a look so sharp it could cut through bone.

Her voice was soft, but laced with venom.

“So… she’s been here.”