Chapter 70: 70
"The one who gave me the key... is the same person who built the lock to keep me in."
The screen flickered. The video stuttered, then began to play.. grainy at first, like a memory too damaged to be whole.
Voices echoed faintly through the speakers, one calm and calculated. The other is familiar. Damian’s.
She didn’t blink.
In the footage, he stood beside the scientist, their conversation laced with precision, not hesitation. There was no sign of guilt, no flicker of regret. Just... plans.
Her chest rose slowly. Once. Then still.
Whatever she thought she knew... dissolved.
This wasn’t betrayal.
It was designed.
"Our families could have been the most powerful in the dynasty," Damian’s voice echoed from the recording, "and you’d rule while my wife and I toured the world. But no, you had to ruin everything."
Damian visibly tensed, holding his breath as the video played.
"I ruined everything?" the scientist snapped back into the footage. "Don’t call yourself righteous, you devil. What did you do when I gave you another chance to amend things?"
"Amend?" Damian laughed bitterly. "Sometimes I wonder if your brain is like a system that needs an update. You sent the person I wanted dead to the same place I was. Did you forget why I was locked up there?"
"You could have used your... talents on him. After all, you love turning human bodies into art pieces."
"And what then? Kill him and lose my right to compete as heir? Don’t put all the blame on me. You’re at fault too. If only you had injected him with that concoction or whatever you created,then he would have gone insane, and the blame for the hospital deaths would have been pinned on
Another video began.
Ella’s blood ran cold.
The footage crackled to life and there he was again. Damian. But this time, holding a gun. Pointed straight at her.
"You little rat... you’ve been in touch with Nix Dean and dare pretend you don’t know where Carmela is?"
His voice thundered from the speakers, venom laced in every word.
"Damian, listen.. I sincerely don’t.."
"Shut up!"
Even in the safety of the present, Ella’s body trembled. Her breath came shallow. Her fingers curled around the edge of the seat.
"Since you’ve been working with him," Damian growled, "Then he must know I’m the one who killed those students .. and the people at the hospital ..but pinned it on him. And..." He staggered back in the video, pressing both hands to his head as if caged by panic. "What if he tells Carmela the truth? That I’m the one who killed her adoptive grandmother? She wouldn’t think twice before ending me.. No ... I won’t let that happen. But first I have to deal with you."
Her voice in the video was barely audible, as she felt her heart about to fall off from her chest
"You... you can’t. The scientist wouldn’t spare you; he considers me his daughter." the shaky hope she clinged on to cracked in her throat but Damian only laughed low, cold and merciless.
"The scientist?" he spat. "He doesn’t even care about his real daughter, let alone you.. A substitute." He leaned in toward the camera.
"You want the truth? He ordered the hit on his wife and daughter. You were just a replacement. And guess what? He approved of your death, too."
"It’s not true," she gasped.
"Oh, but it is. Your entire family? Slaughtered by his real daughter. On his command. Then he adopted you. A perfect little puppet. And you still think he’d care?" he scoffed looking at her like she had lost her mind well yeah, she actually had lost her mind hearing those statements from him
"You... you can’t do this to me. You can’t.."
Bang.
The screen flared white with the gunshot. Her words ended in a choked cry. Then came the second.
The third...
The fourth...
Ella in the footage dropped, blood blooming like petals across her chest as she crumpled.
And then,silence followed
The screen faded to black. The hall, to stillness and then seconds began to stretch into minutes.
Before a slow, deliberate clap echoed across the room. From the woman in the hat.
"Well," she said, lips curved in something that wasn’t quite a smile, "I do love a twisted reunion... What a lovely wedding." Her voice dripped with mockery, each syllable a blade. "Bloody vows, shattered veils ..how romantic."
Damian staggered forward, pale, desperate, eyes darting between the woman in white and the face he’d sworn he loved.
"Baby... Carmela... it’s all fake. I... I never.."
A sound cracked through the silence of Ella’s palm, across his cheek. He reeled, not just from the impact, but from the look in her eyes. Not pain. Not confusion.
But rage.
She tore the veil from her head like it burned her, the lace scattering like ash. Her bouquet hit the ground with a hollow thud.
"Carmela.."
"I’m not Carmela." Her voice was calm. Too calm. "I’m Ella."
A ripple moved through the crowd like the chill before a storm.
Damian blinked. "What do you mean you’re.."
"Editor Damian." The words struck like a gavel.
Carmela finally stepped forward slowly, deliberately peeling off her hat and sunglasses. The real Carmela. Her eyes gleamed with ice and fury.
Gasps echoed. As the fingers of the press clicked continuously on their cameras with an intent to capture everything and not leave out any detail.
Two women. Same face. Different fire.
"Two... Two Carmelas?" Damian stammered, his voice cracking. "How..?"
Carmela laughed. But it was hollow,and joyless. "Are you dense, or just willfully blind?" Her heel clicked once against the marble floor. "She’s Ella. I’m Carmela. Ever heard of plastic surgery?" Her smile twisted. "We made sure you fell for her and you did. Like a moth to your own damn fire."
Damian’s lips trembled. His hands raised in protest, but no words came.
"I never thought it would end like this," Carmela said, voice low, dangerous. "But now... watching you fall apart this is better than justice. This is art."
Damian lunged forward again, fury reigniting, but his arms were seized by Sophie before he could take another step.
"Mr. Damian," she said flatly, snapping the cuffs onto his wrists, "you are hereby under arrest for mass murder... and the attempted murder of Miss Ella."
As the handcuffs locked, he thrashed. "Lies! You’re all lying! This isn’t real!"
Ella’s eyes didn’t leave Carmela. The fury had cooled but not faded. There was still unfinished business, still ash to be scattered. And Carmela was part of it.
Carmela still hadn’t looked at him. Her hands trembled now, as her eyes darting toward the exits, and the shadows that laid along side it, She whispered something barely audible.
"Where is he...?"
Ella turned, watching her not with sympathy, not with scorn but with chilling stillness.The fire in her hadn’t burned out.
It was waiting.
"Damn it... he ran," Carmela muttered, spinning on her heel. Nix and Zamiel followed without question, their footsteps steady but urgent. "Where would he go without the antidote?" Nix asked.
Carmela’s head snapped toward him. "Antidote?"
Zamiel’s voice cut through like steel. "There was no poison. Just an overdose of sedatives. He’ll stay alive long enough to panic."
No emotion flickered in his face, only precision, like a machine already calculating the scientist’s next move.
A motorcycle screeched to a halt in front of the gates.
"He’s heading for the airport!" Amina shouted, tossing Carmela her keys.
Carmela caught them mid-stride, not slowing. Amina gave a brief nod as Carmela tore the lower half of her gown, the silk ripping like paper, and tossed it aside without a glance.
Revealing what she wore beneath. A black tactical corset hugged her torso, laced tight over a matte leather catsuit that molded to her like second skin. Twin holsters strapped to her thighs gleamed under the streetlight, and her heeled, armored boots hit the pavement with precision. A crimson-lined trench coat fluttered behind her, and as she mounted the bike, her visor helmet clicked into place, hiding the storm in her eyes. She didn’t look back.
Zamiel suddenly spoke up flatly, already typing into his phone. "I’ll inform Sophie Tchiani. Nix.. stay on her."
Tom tossed Nix the car key he was holding and a beat later, both vehicles roared into the city.
The dust hadn’t even settled when Amina and Tom were left standing in silence.
Amina exhaled, slow and uncertain. "What do you think happens now?"
Tom hesitated. "I guess... things return to normal."
Her eyes didn’t leave his face. And her next question sliced between them.
"And your feelings for her? Will those go back to normal too?"
Tom couldn’t answer. He didn’t even try. The silence between them turned thick and almost unbearable.
Then, with a voice like ice over fire, Amina said,
"Where are you going to find the antidote... to your own poison?"