Chapter 5

"This can't be true," Mom whispered, collapsing onto the edge of the bed. "Absolutely impossible."

"She was lying there so quietly, not making a sound. How could she be hurt that badly?" Mom muttered to herself. "Meanwhile, Freya was rolling on the ground in agony from her twisted ankle after Cecilia made her fall."

She suddenly stood up, pacing the room restlessly. "They're all lying. They have to be."

Before she finished speaking, she rushed downstairs toward our dance studio.

Mom pushed open the studio door, her eyes frantically scanning every inch of the polished floor. The room was spotless. Not a drop of blood, not a sign of disturbance.

"Nothing!" she exclaimed, dropping to her knees to examine the floor more closely. "Look at this—immaculate! If someone really died here, where's the evidence?"

"This is the proof," Mom said, standing up with renewed determination. "They're all part of this ridiculous charade. Cecilia is probably afraid we'll find out she deliberately tripped Freya, so she doesn't dare come home."

She strode back upstairs and grabbed her phone, dialing Megan's number again.

"Megan, I just checked the dance studio," she said the moment the call connected. "There's absolutely no evidence of any accident. No blood, no disturbance—nothing!"

Megan's weary voice came through: "Mrs. Winter, perhaps someone cleaned up—"

"Don't give me that nonsense!" Mom snapped. "Where is my daughter really hiding?"

"Please, just come to the hospital morgue," Megan pleaded. "See for yourself—"

"I won't participate in this ridiculous game!" Mom hung up angrily.

She stormed into the living room, where Freya and Liam were laughing together like a couple.

"Richard, they're trying to make me believe Cecilia is dead," Mom announced. "But I just checked the dance studio—completely clean. Not a trace of any accident."

"What?" Grandmother Elma looked up from her teacup.

Dad frowned. "Dead? That's absurd. What would be the point of such an elaborate lie?"

"Exactly!" Mom's voice grew stronger. "Look at the evidence—or rather, the complete lack of evidence. If someone really suffered a fatal head injury in that room, there would be signs."

Freya shifted uncomfortably. "Maybe... maybe she's worried I'll blame her if I get hurt and can't compete. But I wouldn't—it was just an accident when she tripped me."

"That vindictive little bitch," Grandmother Elma spat. "She probably got that doctor to help her with this twisted prank."

They actually had the balls to cook up such ridiculous bullshit to fool themselves.

"Think about it logically," Mom continued pacing. "Cecilia disappears immediately after causing Freya's injury. Then suddenly someone claims she's dead? Too convenient. She wants us to forgive her jealousy."

Liam, who had been quietly listening the whole time, finally spoke up, "Cecilia has always loved her family. She wouldn't just run away for no reason."

Dad said, "When she decides to come home, she's going to pay dearly for putting us through all this."

"Agreed," Mom said. "Tomorrow morning, I'm going to that hospital to expose this hoax. When they can't produce a body, everyone will see the truth."

They weren't just unwilling to believe I was dead—they were actively constructing an elaborate explanation for why I would fake my death.

In their minds, I wasn't the quiet, introverted daughter who never caused trouble. I was a manipulative attention-seeker capable of orchestrating a fake death to hurt them.

"She's always been jealous of how we care for Freya," Elma added with satisfaction. "This is just her latest attempt to sabotage our family's happiness."

Mom nodded grimly. "Well, she's failed. We won't fall for it."

Then I saw Freya smile softly. Did she think her scheme had succeeded?