Chapter 3 - The Story Damian Had Believed
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Six months earlier, Damian had trusted Celia.
That was the part that sickened him most.
After his daughter Elena and her husband, Mark, died in a highway accident two years before, Lily had become the center of Damian’s life.
Elena had been Damian’s oldest child.
Celia was his youngest.
The sisters had never been close.
Elena was quiet, careful, stubbornly independent.
Celia had always wanted more.
More money.
More attention.
More control.
Still, Damian believed grief had softened her.
When Damian needed knee surgery in Chicago, Celia volunteered to stay at the mansion with Lily.
“I’m her aunt,” she told him.
“She needs family.”
At first, Damian was grateful.
Then came the calls.
Lily was screaming at night.
Lily had thrown food.
Lily had supposedly hit a housekeeper.
Lily had become “unmanageable.”
Celia sent photographs of overturned chairs.
Broken dishes.
A ripped curtain.
Damian spoke to Lily by video whenever he could.
But Celia always explained why the calls were short.
“She’s tired.”
“She’s medicated.”
“She’s with the therapist.”
Damian hated the word medicated.
Celia assured him it was only a mild pediatric prescription.
“Dad, stop acting like I’m poisoning her.”
He had apologized.
Now, standing in his study with the damaged camera unit on his desk, Damian remembered every apology.
Frank inserted the memory card into an offline laptop.
Folders appeared.
Dates.
Times.
Weeks of footage.
Celia hovered in the doorway.
“You don’t understand what you’re looking at.”
Damian ignored her.
Frank clicked the first file.
The video showed the party hall three weeks earlier.
Lily stood beside the same table.
Celia entered.
Lily immediately backed away.
Damian’s chest tightened.
On-screen, Celia held up a broken glass.
“You did this.”
Lily shook her head.
“No.”
Celia slapped the table.
“Say you did it.”
“I didn’t.”
Celia stepped toward her.
Lily began crying.
Then one of the bodyguards entered carrying a phone.
Celia turned toward him.
“Did you get the picture before she calmed down?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
Damian paused the video.
“What picture?”
No one answered.
He looked toward Bodyguard One, now seated against the wall while waiting for paramedics.
The man’s eyes dropped.
Damian pressed play.
Celia deliberately swept two glasses onto the floor.
Then she photographed the mess.
Damian stopped breathing.
Those were the exact pictures she had sent him.
Lily had never broken them.
Celia had staged everything.
Damian turned slowly.
“Why?”
Celia said nothing.
He took one step toward her.
“Why did you need me to believe Lily was dangerous?”
Celia’s eyes flicked toward the desk.
Not the laptop.
A sealed envelope beside it.
Damian noticed.
It had arrived from his attorney that morning.
He hadn’t opened it yet.
Celia had.
The flap had been sliced and carefully resealed.
And suddenly Damian understood one terrifying thing.
Whatever Celia was doing to Lily was connected to paperwork she was never supposed to see.
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👉 The next answer wasn’t hidden in the camera footage—it was inside an envelope Celia had already opened.
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