Ellen's Point of View
The campus archives sit at the farthest end of the Humanities block which is such a sacred
place where students only visit when they're academically dying.
Of course that's where he wants to meet.
I feel my nerves wrecking as I walk the path, like I'm walking into a mouth waiting to swallow
me.
The moment I push open the door, an old-paper smell engulfs me and for a moment, I sneeze.
The lighting is dim, just enough to see shadows.
I almost pull my phone out to alert him of my presence but my fingers hover over the text board.
Just at that moment, a voice slices through the quiet.
"I told you not to knock.
"
Is he speaking in parables? Cause I didn't even knock just now.
My entire body goes still in shock.
Fucking son of a—
He steps out from behind a tall shelf looking so composed, leather gloves in hand, sleeves
rolled to his forearms like he owns the entire building.
Of course he's already here.
"What do you want from me?"
My voice is steadier than I feel.
He studies me in silence before he answers.
"No. The better question should be, what do you want from me?"
I swallow hard.
"I want to know why you texted me. Why you deleted my messages. Why you—
"
His voice interrupts me, smooth and unhurried.
"I needed to confirm something. And now I have.
"
I blink.
"What?"
"You're reckless.
"
He says it in such a steady tone that I preferred if he yelled it instead.
My hands curl into fists.
"I'm not reckless,
" I snap.
He steps closer and I instinctively back up, heart racing hard. I'm not sure if I'm breathless from
our conversation, or because of the sudden close proximity.
"You ran into the archives. Do you even know who has access to this building?"
"I don't care.
"
"You should.
"
His voice drops.
"Someone could lock that door behind you and no one would notice until
Monday.
"
My pulse kicks hard.
We are in a room with no cameras or humans.
He tilts his head slightly, studying me.
"You're not afraid of me.
"
I don't mean to answer, but my mouth betrays me.
"I'm not.
"
Something cold flickers in his eyes? I can't tell.
"You should be.
"
The tone is firm, like a warning.
He turns away suddenly.
"Come.
"
He doesn't wait for me to follow; he walks deeper into the archives like he expects obedience. I
hesitate, then trail after him, passing aisles of dusty thesis papers and records.
I try to keep pace with him, weaving through stacked crates and ancient bound journals.
He's such a piece of work and I fucking hate him.
We walk for a bit then he unlocks a metal door I've never noticed before.
A basement door.
The stairway disappears into pitch black.
"No,
" I whisper harshly.
"Absolutely not.
"
He looks over his shoulder.
"You wanted answers.
"
"Not in a freaking murder basement!"
His lip twitches and I cannot tell if he's annoyed or he's suppressing a laugh.
The old bulbs flicks on as we step further into the basement.
At the bottom of the stairs is something I never expected.
It is a mini archive room of photos, newspaper clippings, and police reports, all pinned like an
obsessive web.
Every headline has one recurring name:
DUMAS.
My stomach turns.
He said he was going to give me answers.
But this…
This is a full blown investigation.
And he just got transferred to this university. How the hell did he have access to a basement like
this? And how is he so sure nobody else has access to this place?
"You're stalking my family.
"
"I am investigating your family.
"
"That's the same thing!"
"No.
"
He turns, face expressionless.
"It becomes stalking only if I care.
"
I step closer to the wall, eyes scanning clipped headlines.
UNSOLVED FIRE IN PRIVATE RESIDENCE
CASE CLOSED DUE TO LACK OF WITNESS
DUMAS LOSES WIFE IN ACCIDENT
My chest tightens.
My mother's death.
My voice breaks.
"Why do you have this?"
Ardito doesn't move toward me, but the air shifts around him.
"I took over from Clara.
" He simply states.
Pain slices through me.
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"She was the one in charge of this basement, and she was investigating your family before her
death.
"
My family? Why?
I clutch my chest tight.
Clara investigating my family? She had access to a private basement on school grounds? How
the hell did I miss all of this when she was alive?
He reaches into a folder and pulls out a photo.
He holds it out without stepping closer.
My hands shake as I take it.
A woman smiling at the camera, standing under sunlight.
Her hair is like mine.
Her eyes are soft.
My breath catches.
"That's your mother,
" he says.
My vision blurs for a moment.
She looks… happy.
"How did you get this?"
My hands begin to tremble cause I feel I'm getting sucked into more confusion.
What is the relation between Ardito and Clara? And now my family?
"I don't disclose my sources.
"
"You don't have the right—
"
"I warned you. Once you entered this room, you gave me access to truth. Not emotions.
"
I stare at him.
"I'm not a project.
"
"You are a key.
"
My heart stutters.
"A key to what?"
His tone is clean, precise. Professional.
"Your friend did not die randomly.
"
I turn to face him, voice shaking.
"Clara committed suicide.
"
His eyes narrow slightly.
"That's the official narrative.
"
Anger rises in me.
"What are you insinuating?"
"That people who are silenced never get to tell their version of the truth.
"
He walks closer to the web of documents.
"Clara was looking into something. Something connected to this family.
"
I step back.
"Stop saying family like you know anything about mine.
"
"I know your father has sealed records in multiple countries.
"
He motions to the space behind him,
"And I know your mother's death isn't what the reports claim.
"
The room tilts.
"My mother died in an accident when I was three,
" I whisper.
"No.
" he answers calmly.
My pulse roars in my ears.
"Why are you doing this?"
He studies me in silence.
"Because I want the truth. And so do you.
"
I stare at him, breath uneven.
"You think you know what I want?"
He steps closer and gauges my eyes.
"I know you're suffocating in that house, pretending you're safe.
"
My heart stutters.
"I looked into Clara because she didn't deserve to die without a voice. Now I'm offering you
something I don't offer anyone.
"
He pauses,
"An alliance.
"
The word slices through the air.
"Work with me,
" he says.
"We uncover the truth together. About Clara. About your family. About
why you are being silenced.
"
My pulse trembles between excitement and horror.
"What do you get out of it?"
"Justice,
" he says simply.
And beneath that word, something darker.
Revenge.
"So?"
He waits.
"Do we begin?"
I open my mouth.
A part of me wants to believe he is truly as clueless as I am, but another part of me feels he is
playing my head and might be the chief architect of Clara's death.
What if he also wants me silenced? And dragging me in his path is the only way to achieve it?
"No.
"
His expression doesn't crack. He just started blankly.
"You don't trust me,
" he says.
The hell am I supposed to trust him? He's stalking my family here and for what is worth, he
might be lying about a lot of things too.
"I don't even know you.
"
"You want to know the truth,
" he replies,
"but you're afraid of the cost.
"
I swallow.
"That's not why—
"
He cuts me off.
"It was a one-time offer.
"
He turns away, and the shutters go down behind his eyes.
Cold.
Indifferent.
"Leave.
"
My heart jerks.
"What?"
"You heard me.
"
His voice is a blade.
"I just—
"
"This conversation is over.
"
He walks to the desk, pulls out papers, and begins writing.
As if I'm not standing here.
As if none of this happened.
"You're unbelievable,
" I whisper in a cracked voice.
He doesn't look up.
"You're dismissed.
"
Heat rushes behind my eyes. My throat tightens. The version of him in the café, in the archives
which was unreadable, is now gone.
This version is worse.
Emotionless.
I turn toward the stairs, soft tears streaking my face.
"You don't have to be cruel.
"
He doesn't even move.
When I reach the door, his voice finally cuts through the silence.
"Ellen.
"
My breath catches. I turn back enthusiastically.
He doesn't look up from his papers.
"The rules don't change because you pretend they don't exist.
"
What?
I leave before he can see me break further.