"Yes, yes, I will tell you, but please let me live."
Her body went rigid.
It was him.
No mistaking it.
She froze, tablet clutched tight. She had expected the recording to be bad, but hearing his voice, right there, like he was in the room, made her chest ache.
Another voice answered. It was muffled, distorted, like it had been put through a filter. But she could make out most of the words if she focused.
"If I'm satisfied with your explanation, then I might let you go."
Her stomach twisted. She already knew who it was. She didn't need to hear it clearly. That voice had been burned into her memory since the moment she saw her father lying dead.
'Raven.'
The conversation went on. Her father started talking about some project. Weapons. Energy. Experiments. She didn't understand half of the technical stuff.
But even without catching every word, she recognised the tone — controlled, careful, the same one he used whenever he tried to sound reasonable while doing something unforgivable.
There was no remorse in his voice. Only justification. Like explaining a difficult decision rather than a crime.
The muffled voice cut in here and there, impatient, almost mocking. Amelia's skin prickled. She tried not to picture Raven sitting across from him, calm and cold, because the image made her want to scream.
Her father's words kept coming. Then he said it.
"Your father was one of those people who did notice… so for the betterment of the country, we had to do what we had to; to keep this a secret."
Amelia blinked, her brain tripping over the words.
'What!?' She rewound it, just to be sure. The line played again, stabbing deeper the second time
He was talking about Raven's father. And he didn't even try to deny it.
Her mouth felt dry. She shifted on the couch, almost dropping the tablet.
The other voice came back, sharper now. "You killed him due to your greed for power…" the sentence blurred into heavy distortion, as the filter had suddenly deepened. A few broken sounds slipped through, nothing clear enough to make sense of.
She frowned, leaning closer to the tablet as if that would make the words unscramble. It didn't. 'Whoever had edited this had buried the rest under layers of static… It had to be Raven.'
Her chest felt heavy.
'What did you say, Raven? What are you hiding?'
Her father started pleading. He blamed the prime minister. Said it wasn't his choice. She had heard that tone before, the one he used whenever something was about to slip out of his control.
She hated hearing it now.
It made him sound weak.
It made her feel… small.
The rest blurred together…
Raven's voice growing sharper, her father begging, the sound of something heavy hitting the floor. She could hear the pain in his voice, the fear. Even through the distortion, she could hear the satisfaction in Raven's replies.
Her hands were shaking. She set the tablet down beside her and pulled her knees up, hugging them to her chest.
Her father's voice lingered in her ears even after the audio stopped. Smooth, cold, practical. The same voice that used to order her to stand straighter for photos, to smile wider for guests, to represent the Ivanov name with dignity.
It was not the voice of a man who had once held her hand at her mother's funeral. It was the voice of a man who could talk about killing families like it was a necessary errand.
Amelia's throat burned.
She thought back to childhood memories, the kind that never left her. Her father's hand on her shoulder, heavy but never warm. Her face on television, commercials and posters she never wanted to do. Her mother's laugh, fading faster than it ever should have, while her father kept telling the world they were fine.
She had hated him for so long. Hated him for never listening. Hated him for turning her into a prop. Hated him for being absent while her mother died.
And still… he had been her father. The only family she had left.
Her nails dug into her palms until they ached.
Maybe it was edited. Maybe it was someone else with his voice.
But deep down… she knew. She had always known.
'So he really was that man. Cold. Corrupt. Ruthless.'
'I should have known.'
'-I did know.'
The recording only confirmed what she had suspected deep down for years — that he was not a good man. Not a protector. Not even really a parent. Just another politician who believed power gave him the right to treat people like tools.
She wanted to scream. To smash the tablet. To undo the part of herself that still longed for him, even after everything.
Her stomach twisted.
And then came the other. Raven's.
The memory of him standing over her father's broken body was burned into her eyes. The weight of his presence. The absolute certainty in his voice when he said he didn't care.
She hated him more than anything.
For killing her father.
For making her doubt her own feelings.
And even more so for being the only one left in this wreckage that is her life.
A part of her just wanted to run, not just from Raven, but away from life itself.
Still, the thought of being completely alone terrified her more.
Her head fell into her hands.
'I hate you. I hate both of you. But I can't… I don't want to be alone. Not now.'
The tablet's screen had gone black. Her reflection stared back at her with red, swollen eyes and tear streaks glistening on her cheeks.
She curled on the couch, hugging her knees to her chest until the air finally steadied in her lungs.
Her voice broke in a whisper only the empty room could hear.
"I hate him… but I don't even know what to do."
"I just… don't want to be alone"
The words tasted sickening, but ultimately they were true.
And with that bitter truth, Amelia decided to stay.
…
An unknown amount of time passed, but her mind wouldn't stop spinning.
Her tears had dried, and outwardly, she looked less like an emotionally broken girl compared to earlier.
The silence in the room felt heavier now.
She reached for the tablet again, half-tempted to replay it just to be sure she hadn't imagined parts of it. Her finger hovered over the screen before she pulled it back.
She couldn't.
Not right now.
She stared at the blank TV, trying to push the sound of her father's voice out of her head. It didn't work. Every line kept coming back, circling in her mind, each one making her chest feel tighter.
Her thoughts slid to Raven.
'That bastard had this recording the whole time. He had released it but hadn't shown me. Of course, he hadn't. He wanted me to stay in the dark and probably even enjoyed the idea of me finding out like this.'
'What do I even w…'
But then her head snapped up at the sound of footsteps outside. She fumbled to close the tablet and tossed it onto the couch, forcing her face into something neutral.
The door opened.
Raven stepped inside, a plastic bag in one hand. He closed the door with his usual calm, no rush, no wasted movement.
He crossed to the table, set the bag down, and began pulling things out. Bread. A jar of something she didn't recognise. Smoked meat.
"You didn't leave," he said, not looking at her.
She kept her voice steady. "You told me not to."
He glanced at her once before turning back to the food. "Eat."
She moved to the table and sat, careful not to meet his eyes. Her hands felt sluggish as she tore off a piece of bread and took a small bite.
She barely noticed the taste.
The silence stretched. Heavy. She was aware of him in it, of the way his attention drifted back to her even when he pretended not to watch.
'Don't let him see that I know.'
She swallowed and took another bite, keeping her expression flat even as everything inside refused to settle.
Her father's voice lingered where it shouldn't have. Raven followed close behind. The way it had all ended replayed in pieces she didn't want to line up.
The truth pressed at the edges of her thoughts, dense and unwanted. She tried to push it back, to make it smaller. Easier.
Raven killed her father.
That was what she'd been holding onto. The shape of it. The part that still made sense.
But the recording wouldn't leave her alone. Her father's words stayed lodged in her head. He had done it. He had ordered it. And Raven had made sure the world heard every second.
Her jaw tightened.
No.
She wasn't ready for that. Not yet.
She tore off another piece of bread and chewed harder than she needed to, focusing on the motion, the pressure, anything that wasn't her thoughts.
She kept eating.
For now, she kept her head down and let the quiet stretch between them, letting the moment pass without looking up.
From the outside, it was just a meal.
Inside, nothing had settled at all.