A Wicked Facade

The grand iron gates of the Vanguard residence parted in silence. Kaelen’s sleek motorcade glided onto the sprawling estate, the tires crunching over the immaculate paved driveway. Inside the lavish living room, bathed in the warm glow of a massive crystal chandelier, Cassian’s long-time personal doctor, Rhys Mercer, paced the hardwood floor. Giselle sat rigid on the edge of the velvet sofa. Beneath her flawless makeup and designer dress, she was seething. Her blood boiled over her wasted opportunity. She had orchestrated the perfect scenario to dispose of the mute boy without leaving a single trace. Now, all her meticulous planning had gone down the drain.

The heavy front doors swung open. Kaelen strode into the foyer, holding Ronan firmly in his arms. He walked straight past the extravagant decor and handed the boy over to the stunned physician.

"Something amazing happened to Cass today. He can speak now. Please help him upstairs to do a full body check-up."

Rhys adjusted his glasses, his jaw dropping in shock. He had spent five grueling years trying to treat Cassian. Every respected doctor and child psychologist in the world had failed to break through the boy's deep psychological trauma. The barriers in Cassian's mind were supposed to be impenetrable. Yet, a mere day missing in action had miraculously cured a five-year muteness. It defied every law of modern medicine.

"Are you serious?" Rhys gasped.

Ronan offered a stiff nod. "Yeah!"

He drew out the syllable with feigned reluctance, knowing he needed to maintain the precarious ruse. He felt confident his healthy body could deceive any standard medical exam. He just needed to play the part of a traumatized child returning home.

Rhys placed a gentle hand on the boy's shoulder, leading him toward the sweeping grand staircase. As Ronan followed the doctor, he paused. His sharp eyes caught sight of the woman on the sofa. She glared daggers at him, her hostility clear despite her attempts to mask it. He tilted his head, studying her icy demeanor. Was this hostile stranger his hateful father's new wife? She had to be his evil stepmother.

Returning her focus to the grand living room, Giselle felt panic rising in her chest. Kaelen took a seat on the couch and crossed his long legs. He discarded his black coat and rolled up the sleeves of his crisp white shirt, radiating an intimidating aura. Giselle sat uneasy beside him. Terrified that the vocal boy would reveal her involvement in pushing him down the steep hill at the cemetery, she needed to control the narrative. She pictured the sheer drop of that precipice, the sickening thud of the child's body hitting the rocks. How had he survived? More importantly, how much did he remember? She feigned a mask of tearful maternal concern. Reaching out, she touched Kaelen's sleeve.

"What happened to Cass, Kaelen? Who was the terrible woman who abducted him? How did he learn to speak in just a day? It's impossible. Something weird is going on, we have to be careful."

Kaelen closed his eyes, a muscle feathering in his jaw. Annoyed by her whining probing and exhausted by the bizarre events of the day, he brushed her hand away.

"I know exactly what to do. It's late. You should head home and get some rest."

Giselle swallowed her pride, desperate to remain in the house. She needed to keep a threatening eye on the boy to ensure he kept his mouth shut. Furthermore, she wanted to close the emotional distance with her aloof fiancé. They were supposed to marry soon, yet he treated her like a nuisance. She clasped her hands together, looking at him with pleading eyes.

"Can I stay for the night, Kaelen? I'm so worried about Cass."

Kaelen lacked the patience to entertain her willful behavior. He leveled a cold, definitive glare at her.

"Go home!"

Giselle knew the man was on the verge of an explosive outburst. Humiliated and fearful of pushing him too far, she rose to her feet and retreated from the estate.

Giselle marched to her luxury car in the driveway. The moment the heavy doors sealed shut, her tearful facade morphed into an ugly scowl. She hurled her designer bag against the dashboard. Her assistant, Gideon Vane, flinched from the driver's seat.

"What the hell is going on? Didn't you swear to me that the punk was thrown down the steep hill? Why does he look fine?"

Gideon gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white.

"Our hired men pushed the boy off the precipice, Ms. Giselle. I also checked on the hospital incident. The mysterious woman had nothing to do with the rescue. It was just a terrible coincidence."

Giselle grit her teeth, struggling to process the infuriating anomaly. The boy was a walking time bomb. Before she could demand further investigation, Gideon hesitated. He looked at her through the rearview mirror, dread pooling in his eyes.

"There is another matter, Ms. Giselle."

"What is wrong now?"

"The organizers of the charity dinner informed us that you have been blacklisted from all future events. The news has been announced on various websites, and it is trending on social media."

Giselle snatched her tablet from her purse. She swiped through the screen, her eyes scanning the brutal headlines.

Breaking news! Oakhaven's charitable princess, Giselle Hawthorne, is a fraud!

Discover Giselle Hawthorne's true identity!

The liar has been blacklisted from charity events!

A toxic mix of rage and panic seized her. She gripped the leather seats, her manicured nails digging into the upholstery. She knew she was guilty of every accusation. She had spent years exploiting the deceased Alistair's name to perform fake acts of charity. She despised helping others and believed the common people deserved their suffering. However, the fabricated halo had earned her devoted supporters and gained her unearned favor with the Vanguard family.

"I want to know who is responsible for this right now!"

Her voice cracked with raw fury.

"Do not worry, Ms. Giselle. I have already sent out men to find the culprit."

Giselle glared at the back of his head, her breathing ragged.

"Contact the organizers. Use whatever funds necessary to reinstate my name on the exclusive guest list. I must attend that dinner no matter what."

She had made a strict pact with Kaelen. They would only marry once she was crowned the World Ambassador for Benevolence. She desperately needed that title to secure her marriage to him. She silently vowed to eliminate anyone who stood in her way. She would crush them, just as she had disposed of the old man and her sister Seraphine five years ago.

Back at the quiet, sterile hospital room, the real Cassian lay motionless on the bed. His small, bruised frame was trapped in a stabilized, monitored coma, surrounded by a tangle of IV lines and sensors. The rhythmic, monotonous beep of the heart monitor echoed in the dim light, serving as a constant reminder of his fragile state. Seraphine sat elegantly by his side, her legs crossed. She held her laptop, scrolling through the escalating online backlash against Giselle. A deep, icy satisfaction warmed her chest, a sharp contrast to the grief she felt for her injured son. A smirk touched her lips as she watched the netizens relentlessly tear down her sister's fake halo comment by comment.

It has been five years since we last met, Giselle Hawthorne. I hope you love my little welcome gift.

She stared at the glowing screen, her eyes glinting with dangerous intent.

This is just the appetizer. I will make sure you know exactly what it feels like to be abandoned, humiliated, and hurt by the very person you love.

Without looking away from the laptop, Seraphine slowly raised a slender hand. She signaled to Silas, who stood in the shadowed corner of the ward.

"Proceed to the next step, one hour later."