Edwin continued climbing the stairs, revolver in his left hand. His eyes locked on Lance with a cold, piercing stare—no rage, just something… emptier. Bloodless. Calculated.
Lance felt his stomach twist. That stare—like he was already dead.
His breathing hitched. As Edwin reached the top of the stairs, he raised his right hand.
Okay… this is it.
Lance brought both arms in front of himself, bracing for impact. In the few seconds Edwin took to close the distance, Lance’s mind raced. His plan? Block the shot with one arm—if he was lucky—and then lunge in to grab the gun with the other.
Not the smartest strategy, but hey… better than doing nothing.
Just as he braced himself for the bang—
CLANK!
The sound of metal hitting wood echoed through the stairway. Lance slowly lowered his arms and stared.
The revolver lay on the floor.
Edwin stood above it, breathing heavily, chest rising and falling. His cold stare remained, but the fury had melted—replaced with something quieter.
Regret.
“Help Carla,” Edwin said, voice low and steady. “Find the maids on the second floor. Tell them to hurry. Ariel might still be alive... And tell them to wear gloves.”
Without waiting for a reply, Edwin turned and started walking back down the stairs.
Lance stared at his back. He dropped the gun… on purpose. He glanced down at the revolver. Trying to earn my trust? Or just too tired to pull the trigger?
He didn’t stick around to question it. Lance darted down the hallway, throwing open doors, checking every room. Finally, he found three maids gathered in a staff quarters. “Come quick! Ariel’s hurt—bad! And bring gloves!”
The maids followed without hesitation. Back at the bottom of the stairs, they carefully lifted Ariel and carried her into the kitchen. They laid her gently on the table and began tending to her wounds, trying to slow the bleeding.
Meanwhile, Carla’s voice rang out sharp and loud behind Edwin.
“You’re just going to walk away? KILL HIM!”
“I don’t see any reason to,” Edwin muttered, not even turning back. “And we shouldn’t act without proof.”
Carla’s voice cracked. “I SAW him do it! I saw him push her down with my own eyes! I watched her eyes roll down the stairs one by one after he—he dropped them! Do you not trust your wife?! Has your daughter’s death blinded you?!”
“Stop calling her dead,” Edwin snapped. “And I’m calling the police. They’ll decide what happened.”
He walked to the phone booth, picked up the receiver, and made the call. Carla stood frozen, trembling with fury.
Lance returned with the maids, breathless, as they worked on Ariel. The clock ticked slowly.
The police arrived twenty minutes later.
After examining Ariel’s body, they came forward with the report.
“There’s only one fingerprint on the girl,” one officer said. “It belongs to her mother. No other prints. No visible signs of a weapon. Her eyes were removed, but there are no fingerprints on them either.”
Carla stared at the report. “That’s impossible…” she whispered, her voice cracking. “I saw him push her. I saw it. I watched her eyes fall from his hands. I watched them bounce down each step… They landed right in front of me.”
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
Lance sat in silence in the report room, watching the officers. He caught Edwin’s eye and subtly shook his head—it’s all a lie.
Edwin gave a faint nod. I know.
Carla noticed the silent exchange. “Have you lost your mind?!” she screamed, turning on her husband. “I am your damn wife! You’re taking his side over mine?!”
Edwin said nothing.
“You think this is some kind of joke?!”
Carla tore off one of her heels and stormed across the room, arm raised high. Lance didn’t have time to react—she was only inches away, ready to bring the sharp heel crashing into his skull—
—but Edwin’s hand caught her wrist mid-swing.
The heel dropped to the floor. Carla collapsed down with it, panting. She glared at Lance from the floor, venom in her eyes.
“I don’t know how you did it. But you will pay for your crimes. In this life, or the next.”
Lance wanted to say it—“Ma’am, you’ve already been caught. No fingerprints, no logic, your story doesn’t even add up. You seriously think I ripped out her eyes without leaving a trace?” But this wasn’t the time.
An officer stepped forward. “There is some good news. The girl is alive. She’s breathing again. But…unfortunately her chances of waking again are very slim or.”
Everyone fell silent.
“We’ll provide security for the next few days,” the officer added. “When she wakes up, contact us. She’s the only one who can confirm what happened.”
“Thank you,” Edwin said, walking the officers to the door. Lance followed, not wanting to be left alone with Carla a second longer.
As Edwin waved goodbye to the patrol car, he looked at Lance. His face looked older somehow. Tired.
“I’m sorry, kiddo… but I’m gonna have to ask you to pack your bags and head back to the orphanage. After what’s happened—I’m afraid. I don’t want anyone near my daughter… not after this. Not even you.”
He tried to keep it firm. But his voice cracked near the end. Tears followed.
Lance stepped closer and opened his arms. “It’s okay. You’re fine. But you can’t think like this. Wait until Ariel wakes up. Let her speak before you accuse anyone.”
Edwin wiped his eyes and gave a small nod. “Thank you. Maybe… maybe there’s still hope for this family.”
Lance stayed at the mansion for two more days as police continued their questioning. Ariel hadn’t woken up. Carla locked herself away in her room. Edwin barely moved from the living room couch, watching sports in silence.
Lance had already sent his luggage back to the orphanage by train.
The day of his departure finally came.
He entered the TV lounge, where Edwin sat with a beer in one hand, football playing in the background.
“You ready?” Edwin asked.
“Yeah.”
“Well, we have to say goodbye here,” Edwin said, standing. “Police said I can’t leave the house. Neither can Carla. Not until Ariel wakes up.”
Lance frowned. “Then who’s gonna drive me? One of your men?”
“Not a chance I’d let them near my car.” Edwin chuckled bitterly and pulled $500 from his pocket. “Here. This should cover the trip—and a little something for being dragged into all this.”
Lance wanted to decline. But instead, he gave Edwin a firm handshake and nodded.
As he walked away toward the main gate, he glanced back. Edwin stood at the door, waving goodbye from inside. He wasn’t allowed to step out—not even into his own garden.
Lance shivered. Something felt off.
Is someone watching me?
His eyes moved to a window.
Carla. Of course. Still watching. Still pretending. Why is she still playing this role after getting caught? Just wait until Ariel wakes up…
But then something else itched at his brain.
Why was her act so convincing? It’s like… she believed it. Like she really saw me do it.
He kept walking toward the bus station, rubbing his temple. A strange buzzing started in his ears. Louder. Louder—
His knees gave out.
Then everything stopped.
When Lance opened his eyes… he was sitting on a pink couch floating in the sky. Clouds drifted below. The sun was setting in the far distance.
“What the actual fuck is going on?!”
“Relax. You won’t fall.”
Lance spun his head left. A woman, no older than 30, sat calmly on the other end of the couch—legs crossed. Pink-red hair. Deep green eyes. A purple necklace around her throat, a black shirt, pink skirt.
“Who the hell are you?! Where are we?! Is this magic?! Am I dead?! What is happening?!”
The woman giggled. “That’s way too many questions. Let’s talk about the real issue—Ariel.”
Lance stared. “How do you know her name?!”
“It’s… complicated. Magic. Let’s go with that.” She looked out at the setting sun. “Now, tell me. Who do you think attacked her?”
Lance didn’t hesitate. “Carla.”
“Wrong.”
“Edwin?!”
“Still wrong.”
“Then—who?!”
The woman raised her hand. A bubble formed from her palm, expanding into the size of a basketball. Images swirled inside.
Lance leaned in.
It was the staircase.
He saw Ariel—falling.
Someone had pushed her.
Then, another image: a hand dropping her eyes. They bounced down the stairs, landing at Carla’s feet.
Then came the face.
The attacker’s face.
His face.
Lance.
Smiling.
His body locked. Cold flooded through him.
“What? No… I don’t remember this. I never—”
“This is Carla’s memory,” the woman said calmly. “This is what she saw.”
“She wasn’t lying,” she continued. “Everything she said was true.”
Lance stared into the bubble.
And his mind—
Went completely blank.
