Shadows of deceit : The Augustus secret

Chapter Twenty-Five

Stefan

Something feels off. I can't quite place it, but it's there—an unsettling weight in the air, like the moment before a storm breaks. I'm not accustomed to feeling this kind of unease. Alarm without cause. Suspicion without clarity. And yet, here I sit, across from a woman cloaked in age and mystery—Lady Agatha.

She's settled into the chair across from my desk like she owns the room, eyes roaming over the walls, the old clock ticking by the window, the worn books lined neatly on the shelves. The scent of aged paper and faint lavender fills the space, disturbed only by the occasional creak of the wooden floor beneath her heels.

I watch her, trying to predict what she'll say, but I'm drawing blanks. What truth could she possibly bring that I don't already know? For all I've found about Lady Agatha—and I've searched meticulously—she shouldn't even exist. No mention in the family's legal documents. No photographs. No letters. Nothing. Just a name we supposedly share, and even that might be a lie.

Still, I find myself following her lead, listening carefully, walking at her pace, as if she's holding a thread to something buried deep beneath the surface of everything I thought I understood.

"You said you wanted to talk—so talk," I said, sharper than intended, but the questions circling in my mind were growing louder by the second.

She gave me a knowing smile, tilting her head ever so slightly. "You know... you remind me so much of your dear father, Henry."

God. Kill me now.

Her voice dripped with nostalgia, like she was savoring a memory I had no access to. "He was lovely. So sweet. But also quick-tempered, always buried in business."

Lovely? Sweet? Who the hell is she talking about? Because it sure as hell isn't the Henry Augustus I knew. If this was her way of softening me up, it was already failing miserably.

"Quick-tempered, you say?" I asked, leaning back in my chair, eyes fixed on her. "And when exactly did you witness my father losing his temper—around you, of all people? I'm curious."

She paused, gathering her thoughts deliberately, as if reciting a well-rehearsed memory. "I can see you're not entirely convinced I'm your father's aunt," she said softly, her eyes narrowing just enough to hint at something unspoken. "But I watched him grow up alongside David. I saw him carve his path—become the man everyone would come to know."

A faint smile touched her lips, her gaze drifting as if pulled into a distant memory. "I'll never forget the day I married Joseph Augustus. This family, well, not exactly known for being sentimental... but Joseph—he was different. Kind, gentle... such a rare thing in the Augustus bloodline. A pity he never lived long enough for you to know him." Her voice lingered on that last note.

I let out a noncommittal hum, unsure how to respond—and frankly, unwilling to indulge in another nostalgic tribute to a long-gone Augustus. I leaned forward slightly, cutting through the haze of sentiment. "Let's skip the reminiscing, Lady Agatha. What is it that you really came here to tell me?"

She shifted in her seat, the flicker of annoyance crossing her face too quickly to mask. Clearly, I wasn't playing along with her carefully rehearsed nostalgia. "Well," she said, smoothing the fabric of her coat with slow precision, "that's the trouble, isn't it? There's not much I'm meant to say—because everything that needed saying was already spoken... to your father."

"I'm not sure I'm following," I said, my voice flat, though every part of me was alert.

She gave a soft sigh, as if this was all terribly inconvenient for her. "Alright then," she said, folding her hands delicately in her lap. "I'll try to explain without... breaching the terms." A pause. "Your father—Henry—and I had an understanding. Let's call it a business arrangement, one kept strictly between us. And now that he's gone, well..." She leaned forward just slightly, her eyes narrowing with intent. "You're the head of the family. Which means that agreement—by rights—should now continue... with you."