Fated To Not Just One, But Three - Chapter 448

Chapter 448: I didn’t Kill Her
Selene’s POV

The moment Olivia fainted, I couldn’t take it anymore. I couldn’t stand it; rather, I just ran out of the room. I was being suffocated, and if I didn’t leave, I might have passed out myself too. Before anyone could stop me, I turned and ran. My footsteps echoed down the long hallway, my heart pounding loudly. I didn’t know where I was going — I just needed air, space, anything that wasn’t that room. By the time I burst into the garden, the night air hit me hard. I stumbled forward, gripping a stone pillar as I tried to breathe. The moonlight bathed everything in silver, but it didn’t calm me. It only made the ache sharper.

Then I heard footsteps behind me — fast, urgent.

“Selene!”

I turned, and my stomach twisted. Frederick. He looked… wrecked. His usual calm was gone. His eyes were wide with worry as he reached for me. “Selene—”

“Don’t,” I hissed, jerking back. “Don’t touch me.”

He froze, his hand halfway in the air. “I just wanted to make sure you’re alright.”

“Alright?” I let out a broken laugh. “You think anyone in that room is alright?”

He looked down, guilt flickering in his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I didn’t come sooner. I didn’t know—”

“Stop.” My voice cracked as I cut him off. “Just stop lying.”

He frowned slightly. “Selene—”

“I hate you.”

He blinked, startled, his brows drawing together. “I know you’re angry,” he said softly, “but this isn’t the time—”

“No,” I interrupted, my voice sharper this time. “You don’t understand.”

His eyes met mine, confusion spreading across his face.

“I don’t mean I hate you because of what happened,” I said, shaking my head slowly. “I mean, I hate you. Truly. Deeply. And I don’t want to pretend anymore.”

He looked at me, completely lost. “What are you saying?”

My hands curled into fists. My chest rose and fell quickly as I took a shaky breath. “You remember a woman named Deborah?”

The name made him still. His eyes narrowed. “… Deborah?” he repeated carefully, as if the word were a ghost he hadn’t expected to hear. “You mean—”

“Deborah Voss,” I finished for him. “My mother.”

His face went pale.

“Yes,” I whispered. “I’m her daughter. The woman you killed.”

His lips parted, but no sound came out.

Frederick’s eyes widened slightly, his voice barely a whisper. “You’re her daughter…?”

I nodded slowly, my chest rising and falling. “Yes.”

For a moment, he actually looked… happy. His lips parted in disbelief, and for a split second something warm flickered in his eyes. “Selene,” he said quietly, as if tasting the name. “You’re that Selene? Deborah’s little girl?”

My jaw clenched. “Yes.”

He smiled faintly, almost in awe. “She spoke about you all the time. She—”

I cut him off coldly. “The Deborah you killed.”

His face went blank. “Killed?” he repeated, his tone shifting. “Deborah is… dead?”

My blood boiled, and before I could hold back my emotions, I slapped him hard across the face. “Don’t you dare pretend!” I shouted, my voice trembling with anger. “You know exactly what you did!”

He didn’t even fight back. He just looked at me — stunned, confused — as if my words made no sense.

I felt my throat tighten, but I pushed through it. “Before my mother took her last breath from the poison you gave her,” I said, each word shaking, “she told me everything.”

Frederick’s brows furrowed. “What—”

“She told me,” I spat, “that you sent one of your maids to deliver a drink to her — a glass of wine, a gift from you.” My voice broke. “She thought it was a peace offering, Frederick. A token of friendship. But it was poisoned.”

His lips parted slightly, but no sound came.

“She barely made it home alive,” I went on, tears burning my eyes. “I watched her collapse in front of me, coughing blood — and before she died, she said your name. She said you did it.”

I stepped closer, my voice trembling but fierce. “You killed her, your own student. All because she made a discovery that should have been hers — a discovery you wanted credit for.”

Frederick just stood there, staring at me like the world had stopped moving. His breathing slowed. His eyes darted back and forth between mine, searching for something — maybe truth, maybe denial.

“Tell me,” I said, my voice breaking, “was it worth it? Taking her work, her life, her name — was it worth it just to be called a genius?”

He stared at me like I’d lost my mind. For a second he didn’t say anything — just looked, like he was trying to read some secret I’d carved into my face.

“That’s not true,” he finally said, his voice low. “You’re saying things that aren’t real.”

I laughed, sharp and bitter. “Not true? Don’t lie to me.”

He ran a hand through his hair, the motion small and restless. “Listen,” he said. “Listen to me. I didn’t kill Deborah. I didn’t order anyone to poison her.”

“You expect me to believe that?” I spat. “You expect me to just swallow that and move on?”

He swallowed. “One morning I woke up and there was a letter on my desk. Deborah’s handwriting. She said she had an emergency and needed to return home. She said she would be back.” His eyes were hollow now, almost pleading. “After that — I never saw her again. I asked everyone. I searched. I had people look for her. I didn’t know where she was. I didn’t know who to ask.”

My laugh died in my chest and came out strangled. “You bloody liar.”

He flinched as though the words hit him. “Why would I poison her?” he said sharply. “Why would I—”

“Because you take what you want,” I snapped. “Because you steal people’s work and their names. Because you couldn’t bear someone else being brilliant without you stealing the glory.”

He looked as if I’d shoved him. “Why would I lie about something like this?” he demanded. “If I had done it, why hide? Why pretend? I will never hurt Deborah. She was dear to me—”

“You said that already,” I hissed. “You said a lot of things to get what you wanted. Charming words, promises. You were charming until you needed the knife.”

His face cracked then — not with anger, but confusion. “What are you saying? Why would I lie about this?”

“You should have died that night,” I said without meaning to hold back. The words came from somewhere dark. “I should have killed you when I had the chance. I came into your life to end you.”

Silence slammed down between us.

He blinked. For the first time his confusion gave way to something else — a raw, stunned fear. “You… you would have done that?” he whispered.

“I almost did,” I said. “You were just lucky.”

He took a step back, like my words pushed him. “Selene… I—”

“Don’t,” I cut him off. “Don’t say another lie.”

He looked lost, like he’d been thrown into a room without walls. “You’re telling me I killed her,” he said. “Tell me exactly what you want me to say. Say it.”

My hands were shaking. I didn’t feel brave. I felt small and too loud. “Tell me you’re sorry for what you did. Tell me you’ll pay for it. Tell me anything but that it was an accident.”

He closed his eyes for a breath. When he opened them, there was nothing pretty there — no charm, no calm control. Just a man who didn’t know how to fix the damage between us.

“I didn’t kill her,” he repeated, softer this time. “I wish I had answers. I wish I could bring her back. I didn’t order that. I didn’t know who did.”