Barren Heiress Returns With Quadruplet

Ellen’s POV

As I sat in the car, I remained lost in my own thoughts. My mind was still consumed with thoughts of what Liz had said.

Was Liz truly losing her mind, fractured by the turnout of events? I couldn’t deny the chill that ran down my spine at the thought, the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end as I considered the possibility of Kamille’s vengeful spirit lurking in the shadows, biding its time until it could exact its revenge upon us.

But no such things exist. Kamille’s spirit was dead with her and there is nothing that could be done to change that. I turned to Ava who had positioned herself at the extreme corner, away from me.

“Why are you there?” I asked, my tone unconvincingly calm and gentle.Têxt © NôvelDrama.Org.

“Uhhh…. Nothing Ma’am.” Ava stuttered as she repositioned her glasses to suit her eyes better.

“Good.” I replied. Suddenly the ringing of my phone startled me.

Ava, my assistant hesitated for a moment, clearly taken aback by the tense atmosphere in the car, before tentatively speaking up.

“Excuse me, Miss Ellen.” She said, her voice a little shaky. “Your phone is ringing.”

I snapped at her without thinking, my nerves frayed by the news of Liz’s warning and the uncertainty of our situation. “Who the hell is that?” I demanded, my tone sharp and biting.

Ava flinched at my outburst, her eyes wide with apprehension. “It’s your father.” She replied timidly, holding out the phone to me.

With a frustrated sigh, I snatched the phone from her hand and answered the call. “Father, is everything alright?” I asked, my voice tinged with concern.

But before I could get a response, my father’s voice cut through the line, his tone urgent and commanding. “Ellen, where are you? Come home right now!”

Confusion and alarm surged through me at his words, a knot forming in the pit of my stomach. “I’m already on my way.” I assured him, my heart racing with apprehension. “What’s going on?”

“Gabriel has been arrested!” He stated, his words hanging heavy in the air between us. “I’m expecting you in five minutes.” And with that, father hung up.

What the hell is that about?

My heart began thudding against my chest as I fumbled for my phone, I quickly unlocked the screen and began scouring the internet for any information on what had transpired.

My fingers flew across the screen, tapping furiously as I navigated through news articles and social media feeds, desperate for any clue as to the events that had led to Gabriel’s arrest.

The news was everywhere. Gabriel had been arrested on multiple cases of sexual assault. The evidence was well detailed and swirling in a chaotic whirlwind.

As I kept scrolling my phone, my mind went blank and uncomprehending of anything until I realized the barrage of evidence detailing his alleged assaults on multiple women and Kamille, come from the same blogger’s page who released Liz’s videos to the public.

On a normal day, Gabriel deserved this. But today felt and smelt like hell.

I scrolled through the comments and responses to the posts, many of the women who had been victimized by Gabriel’s actions were now stepping forward, emboldened by the courage of that blogger. They were sharing their own stories, speaking out against the injustices they had endured at his hands.

“Injustice?” I said out loud. Then a sudden wave of hysteria washed over me, bubbling up from deep within as I processed the severity of our predicament.

I began laughing hysterically. “Kamille’s spirit must really be after our family.” I muttered through fits of laughter, the words tumbling from my lips in a manic frenzy.

The events of the past few days had been nothing short of a nightmare, and the thought of Kamille’s spirit haunting us from beyond the grave sent a shiver down my spine but what was more frightening was the laughter that coursed through my lungs.

I laughed, long and hard, until tears streamed down my cheeks and my sides ached with the effort. I noticed Ava shaking her head pitifully, her eyes filled with concern and empathy.

But before I could process her reaction, a surge of defensiveness washed over me, my emotions and feelings destabilized by the tumultuous events unfolding around us.

“What?” I snapped at Ava, my voice sharp and biting. “Do you think I’m crazy? I’m not fucking crazy!”

The words spilled from my lips with an intensity that surprised even me, a desperate attempt to assert control over the chaos that threatened to consume me.

But beneath, I could feel the cracks beginning to form, the weight of the world pressing down on me with an unbearable force.

Ava recoiled at my outburst, her expression a mix of surprise and concern. “No, ma’am, of course not.” She stuttered, her voice trembling with uncertainty.

With a shaky breath, I turned away from Ava, my gaze fixed on the road ahead as we continued our journey home.

Have I become crazy like Liz?

Arriving home, I hastily exited the car without waiting for Ava to open the door, my heart racing with anticipation and dread.

Rushing into the room, I found my mother hunched over on the couch, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs as tears streamed down her face. “Mother.” I called out, my voice thick with emotion as I crossed the room to her side.

Wrapping my arms around her, I pulled her close in a tight embrace, offering whatever comfort I could in the midst of her distress. “It’s okay, Mom.” I murmured.

But as I tried to console her, my father’s harsh words cut through the air. “Stop crying! It’s not going to solve any damned thing!” He barked, his voice, sharp and angry, clashed with her tears.

“Father, please.” I pleaded, casting him a pleading glance. “She’s upset. Can’t you see that?”

But my father’s gaze remained cold and unyielding, his anger simmering just beneath the surface. “She needs to pull herself together.” He retorted, his voice laced with frustration. “We can’t afford to fall apart now.”

My father then put a call across to Mr Finley and once he picked, my father’s voice boomed through the phone, sharp and demanding, as he grilled Mr. Finley.

“What the hell is going on? Why haven’t you been able to catch the blogger? And who is the one supplying this person with evidence?” His frustration was palpable, echoing my own inner turmoil.

“I’m sorry Sir. We’re working on it. The blogger seems to know how to cover his tracks well.” Mr Finley said.

Wrong answer.

“Well, if you want to maintain your head and job,” My father’s voice turned menacing, “You had better find that blogger and his acquaintance. Otherwise, you’ll find yourself looking for a new job.”

“Understood Sir.” Mr Finley replied.

“And make sure to take down all those videos and evidences. Don’t let any survive the night.” Father barked.

Mr. Finley’s response came swiftly, but it offered little reassurance. “Sir, I’ve been trying to bring down the post, but it’s already been circulated by the citizens. It’s out of our control.”

I could feel the tension mounting in the room as my father clenched his jaw, his frustration boiling over. “Damn it, do what you must. We need to find that blogger, no matter what it takes.” His words hung heavy in the air.

He hung up and turned to look at me. “Be prepared. You might be the next.”