Somewhere else, in the quiet corners of the Smith estate, Camilla Robbinson sat comfortably, sipping from a delicate glass of wine. Her lips curled into a knowing smile as she leaned back, twirling her ring around her finger. She already knew.
She had known from the moment Jillian stepped into the hospital. She had known the second that foolish nurse hesitated, debating whether or not to hand over the document. And most importantly, she had already ensured that Jillian's proof would vanish before she could ever use it.
By morning, Jillian would wake up to an empty drawer where she thought she had hidden the document. No sign of the paper. No evidence. No proof.
And worse, if she tried to speak out now, she would sound exactly as Camilla had painted her—a grieving, paranoid girl desperately trying to blame someone for a tragedy that had already passed.
The war was over.
And Camilla had already won.
Meanwhile, Camilla Robbinson was already planting seeds of doubt in Harlond's mind.
Sitting beside him in the study, her expression carefully composed, she sighed as she placed a gentle hand over his. "Harlond, I'm worried about Jillian." Her voice was soft, laced with concern, but there was a dangerous undertone beneath it. "She's not handling Lillian's death well. I know grief can be overwhelming, but… she's starting to act irrationally."
Harlond frowned, rubbing his temples. "She's been distant, I'll admit, but that's natural. She lost her mother."
Camilla nodded, her face full of false sympathy. "Of course, but it's more than that. She's becoming… obsessed. She's been sneaking around, questioning people, acting paranoid. I even heard she went to the hospital last night." She sighed deeply, shaking her head. "I think she's looking for someone to blame, Harlond. And I think she's starting to resent you for moving on."
Harlond's expression darkened. "She hasn't said anything to me."
"She won't," Camilla whispered. "Not directly. But she's losing herself in anger. I'm scared she's going to do something reckless."
Harlond exhaled sharply, standing up and pacing the room. His grief was still fresh, his heart heavy, and now, doubt was creeping in. Camilla's words made sense. Jillian had been distant. She had been tense. And if she really had gone to the hospital… what exactly was she looking for?
Camilla hid her smirk behind a sorrowful expression. It was working.
That night, she took things even further. She began subtly turning the staff against Jillian, making small comments about how "unstable" she was becoming. When Jillian entered a room, whispers would stop, and glances would be exchanged. She was being isolated, little by little.
And then, Camilla struck her first direct blow.
Jillian returned to her room that evening, exhausted and frustrated. But the moment she opened her drawer to check on the document—it was gone.
Her heart stopped. She tore through her belongings, searching frantically, but there was nothing. No paper. No proof. Nothing.
And then, Camilla appeared in her doorway, leaning against the frame with a smirk. "Looking for something?"
Jillian's blood ran cold. Camilla knew.
"You stole it," Jillian whispered, fury rising in her voice.
Camilla chuckled, stepping forward. "Stole what? A piece of paper that never existed? You're really not well, Jillian. Maybe you should get some rest."
Jillian's hands clenched into fists. "I know what you did."
Camilla tilted her head, her smile widening. "Even if you did, what can you do about it?" Her voice lowered, taunting. "No one will believe you. Not your father. Not the staff. Not a single soul. In fact…" she stepped closer, voice dripping with venom, "I'd be careful, Jillian. If you keep acting out, your father might think you need… help."
Jillian's breath caught. She wasn't just being targeted. She was being erased.
After a few days of Camilla orchestrating a plan to make Jillian Smith leave the Smith family, she finally succeeded. A trap was set, and Jillian never saw it coming.
It started with a scream.
Jillian was in the library when she heard the sharp, panicked cry echo through the house. Her heart lurched as she bolted from her chair and rushed toward the source of the sound. As she neared the grand hall, she saw Camilla clutching baby Celeste in her arms, her expression one of utter horror. The infant wailed, her tiny face red with distress.
Then, Harlond appeared. His face was grim, his eyes already filled with accusation as he turned toward Jillian.
Camilla's voice trembled with emotion as she rocked Celeste in her arms. "Jillian… how could you?"
Jillian froze. "What? What are you talking about?"
Camilla's face twisted with grief and fury. "Don't pretend! I walked in and saw you! You were shaking Celeste—hurting her!" Her voice cracked, and tears welled in her eyes. "You… you snapped, didn't you? You're angry, and now you're taking it out on an innocent child!"
Jillian's breath caught in her throat. This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening.
"That's a lie!" she protested, stepping forward, but Harlond raised a hand, stopping her in her tracks.
"Enough," he said, his voice cold. "I warned you, Jillian. I gave you space, I gave you time, but this?" He motioned toward Celeste, who was still wailing in Camilla's arms. "I can't ignore this."
Jillian's hands trembled. "I didn't do anything! Camilla is setting me up! You have to believe me!"
Harlond's gaze was unreadable, but there was doubt in his eyes. That was what crushed Jillian the most. He didn't believe her. Not fully.
Camilla shook her head, holding Celeste closer as if protecting her from Jillian. "Harlond, I don't want to do this, but… maybe Jillian isn't safe here anymore." She turned toward him, her voice soft but firm. "She needs time away. Maybe she should go live with her grandmother in the countryside for a while. Until she… gets better."
Jillian's stomach twisted. This was her plan all along. Camilla wasn't just trying to ruin her—she was trying to get rid of her entirely.
Harlond was silent for a long moment. Then, he exhaled sharply. "Pack your things, Jillian."
Jillian's eyes widened. "No, please—"
"I don't want to hear it." His voice was distant. Final. "Tomorrow morning, you're leaving for the countryside."
Camilla let out a breath of relief, her lips curving into a triumphant smile as she gently rocked Celeste.
Jillian felt her world crumbling around her. She had lost. And Camilla had just won again.
The following morning, Jillian Smith stood in her father's study, her eyes pleading, her voice raw with desperation.
"Please, Father, don't do this." Her hands trembled as she reached for him, but he remained distant, standing near the window with his back to her. "I swear, I didn't hurt Celeste. Camilla is lying! She's manipulating you—can't you see that?"
Harlond exhaled sharply, his shoulders tense. "Jillian, I've made my decision." His tone was firm, unwavering. "This isn't a punishment. It's for your own good."
For her own good? Jillian felt her heart clench. "You're sending me away because of a lie!" she cried. "I'm your daughter! Why won't you believe me?"