The next morning, the house felt heavier.
No one spoke much during breakfast.
Her father avoided her eyes.
Her mother kept smiling too much.
And Velora noticed everything.
"You're not eating," her mother said gently, placing more food on her plate.
"I'm not hungry."
Her father looked up at that. For a second, their eyes met.
There was fear there.
Not anger.
Not guilt.
Fear.
It confused her.
Later that afternoon, Velora heard something that made her blood run cold.
Police had received an anonymous tip.
Her location.
Exact details.
Someone from inside had informed them.
Her mind immediately replayed last night.
Her father.
The secret call.
"If she gets hurt, I won't forgive you."
Was he protecting her?
Or setting her up?
Across town, Ghost slammed his fist against the table.
"I checked the call logs," one of his men said nervously. "The information was leaked from her residence."
Ghost's eyes darkened.
"From who?"
"There are only two possibilities."
He didn't say the names.
He didn't have to.
Ghost closed his eyes for a moment.
He didn't want to believe it.
But suspicion had already entered his mind.
And once suspicion enters—
It never leaves quietly.
That evening, Velora confronted her father.
"Were you the one who called them?"
Silence filled the room.
Her father stared at her, shocked.
"Velora—"
"Just answer me!"
Her voice broke.
He stepped closer.
"I would never harm you."
That wasn't an answer.
Her chest tightened.
"You didn't deny it."
Before he could speak, her mother entered.
"What is happening?" she asked softly.
Velora turned toward her.
"Ask him."
Her mother looked between them, then sighed sadly.
"Your father has been under pressure lately. Don't jump to conclusions, beta."
She placed a hand on Velora's shoulder.
"Trust your family."
Her father looked at her mother.
Something unspoken passed between them.
Tension.
Warning.
History.
Velora noticed.
And for the first time—
She felt alone in her own house.
That night—
Another flash.
Rain again.
Louder this time.
Someone shouting her name.
A body falling.
Warm liquid on her hands.
She looked down—
Red.
She gasped and woke up again.
This time with tears in her eyes.
Why does it feel like someone died?
Why does it feel like it was because of me?
Downstairs—
Her mother stood near the window, phone pressed to her ear.
"Yes," she whispered calmly. "She's starting to doubt him."
Pause.
"No. She doesn't remember anything yet."
A faint smile curved on her lips.
"Soon… everything will fall into place."
From the hallway—
A shadow moved.
Her father.
He had heard everything.
And his face—
Was shattered.