Chapter 4 - The Diary of Ash
Once the stylist left and Clara retreated to her study, Elara locked her door and unfolded the note Marcus
had slipped her. Written in Julian’s hurried, familiar handwriting, it read: "The proof is closer than you think.
Leo kept a physical diary. He called it his 'Diary of Ash.' He knew your mother monitored his digital footprint,
so he wrote everything down by hand. It's hidden in the old pool house, behind the loose brick near the
filtration system. Find it, Elara. It's our only shield."
Elara’s mind raced. The old pool house had been abandoned since Leo’s death. Clara had ordered it
locked, claiming the memories were too painful, but Elara knew it was because she wanted to bury everything
associated with that era of their lives. Getting to the pool house wouldn't be easy; the estate was heavily
patrolled by private security, and Clara’s cameras covered almost every square inch of the grounds.
She had to wait until nightfall. She spent the remaining hours of daylight studying her new hair. Marcus
had managed to turn her butchered locks into a sharp, edgy pixie cut. It made her look fierce, older, and
entirely different from the delicate, compliant girl Clara had spent years cultivating. When she looked in the
mirror, she no longer saw a victim; she saw a rebel.
At 2:00 AM, the mansion fell into its deep, uneasy sleep. Elara slipped out of her room, wearing dark,
quiet clothes. She knew the blind spots of the security cameras—she had mapped them out as a teenager when
she used to sneak out to meet Julian. She crept down the service stairs, avoiding the creaky third step, and
slipped through the side kitchen door into the chilly night air.
The grass was wet with dew, soaking her sneakers as she darted from the shadow of the rose bushes to the
stone path leading to the pool house. The structure loomed ahead, a dark, gothic silhouette against the starry
sky. The glass windows were covered in grime, reflecting the moonlight like dead eyes.
She reached the side door. It was secured with a heavy brass padlock, but Elara had prepared. She pulled
a hairpin from her pocket—a trick Julian had taught her years ago. Her hands shook as she worked the lock,
the metallic clicks sounding like gunshots in the quiet night. With a satisfying snap, the padlock yielded.
She slipped inside, the air thick with the smell of dust, mold, and stagnant water. Using the dim light of
her flashlight, she navigated around the covered pool, her footsteps echoing softly. She found the filtration
room in the back corner, a cramped space filled with rusted pipes and old machinery.
She knelt by the brick wall near the main filter. Her fingers searched the cold, damp stone until she felt a
slight wobble. She pried at the loose brick, her nails scraping against the mortar. Slowly, she pulled the heavy
brick free, revealing a dark, hollow cavity behind it.
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Inside lay a small, leather-bound book, wrapped in a thick layer of plastic to protect it from the dampness.
It was Leo's diary.
Just as her fingers closed around the package, the overhead lights of the pool house flared to life, blinding
her. Elara gasped, dropping the brick. She spun around, shielding her eyes from the glare, only to find Clara
standing in the doorway, flanked by two burly security guards.
"I must admit, Elara, your resilience is almost admirable," Clara said, her voice dripping with
May you like
disappointment. "But did you really think I wouldn't notice you leaving your room? Hand it over."
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