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Chapter_203
The old professor examined the video frame by frame, his eyes narrowed in unwavering concentration. He leaned closer, observing every subtle movement with the precision of a surgeon. After a long silence, he finally spoke, his voice calm but lined with quiet authority.
“This isn’t an act of harm,” he said. “The needle placements… the angle, the rhythm—this is therapeutic. Whoever did this was trying to relieve pain, not cause it.”
Ludwik froze. The words echoed in his head like a thunderclap. The footage Elaine had given him had felt like irrefutable proof—Whitney, caught on camera, apparently tormenting his mother. But this analysis upended everything.
His throat tightened.
“If it wasn’t to hurt her,” Ludwik muttered, “then… what the hell was Whitney doing there?”
Parker, who had been watching him closely, leaned forward. “That’s the real question, isn’t it? Do you still think she was behind the kidnapping?”
Ludwik’s hand clenched around the table’s edge. Anger, confusion, betrayal—they swirled inside him like a storm. The narrative he’d clung to, the justification for his rage, was unraveling. The certainty that had guided his fury was now in question.
“I don’t know anymore,” he admitted, his voice low, almost defeated. “This changes everything.”
Parker gave a slow nod, not surprised. “I thought you might say that. Sometimes people get caught in a web of assumptions—and it’s easier to hate than to understand. But just because someone’s present during a crime doesn’t mean they orchestrated it. Maybe Whitney’s role wasn’t what it seemed.”
Ludwik exhaled, dragging a hand through his hair in frustration. “If she wasn’t trying to hurt my mother, then why the lies? Why did she run from me? Why was she even there in the first place?”
“Because maybe she’s stuck,” Parker said, voice pointed. “Caught between protecting you and being used by Keegan. You know how he operates—how deep his reach goes. Whitney might not be an enemy. She might be collateral.”
Ludwik’s expression faltered.
He had hated Whitney for so long, hated her for that night, for every cruel word, every cold expression. But now… now he saw something else. A woman fighting battles he hadn’t been willing to see.
“So, you’re saying… she’s the one being played?” he asked.
“It’s a possibility you need to consider,” Parker replied. “If she tried to help Natalie after the abduction, even under Keegan’s thumb, that changes the story. She’s a doctor, Ludwik. Healing people is her instinct.”
Ludwik sat in silence, mind racing through everything he thought he knew. Was his fury a mask for guilt? Had he been punishing the wrong person all along?
Back at the mansion, Elaine was a volcano of barely contained rage.
Her plan had been unraveling thread by thread. Parker’s investigation had unearthed doubts—dangerous doubts—and Ludwik was starting to falter. She had spent months sculpting the perfect image of Whitney as a monster, feeding Ludwik lies until they became his truth. But now?
Now the cracks were showing.
“Lyra,” she snapped, pacing like a caged animal. “Make sure Whitney doesn’t leave her room. I don’t care if she starves or freezes—no one opens that door unless I say so.”
Lyra gave a silent nod, though her eyes lingered on Elaine with unease. The bitterness in Elaine’s voice, the desperation—it was growing heavier with each passing day.
Elaine turned away, her mind already shifting to damage control. She couldn’t afford to lose Ludwik now. Not after everything she had done. Whitney had always been the obstacle, the shadow over her dreams—and Elaine would make sure she stayed buried.
At the police station, Ludwik remained seated long after the professor had left, eyes fixed on the paused video screen. Whitney’s face was frozen mid-movement, her expression unreadable. For so long, he had only seen that face through the lens of betrayal. But now…
Now he wasn’t so sure.
Parker placed a steady hand on his shoulder. “You need a clear head, Ludwik. Don’t let your anger do the thinking for you. The truth will come out—just be ready for it, whatever it is.”
Ludwik gave a faint nod, but his chest felt heavy.
Could it really be that everything he believed about Whitney had been wrong?
Or worse—had he destroyed the only real thing he ever had because of a lie?
