All too late novel

Chapter 6 

In early autumn, the yard was blanketed with fallen leaves. I sat under a tree, listening to music, when my phone buzzed with several incoming messages. 

When I answered, I was first startled, then increasingly confused. I had been home since my discharge, never leaving the house, so a call from the police was unexpected. They informed me that, half a month ago, I had allegedly killed someone during an argument and disposed of the body. They wanted me to come in for 

questioning. 

Initially, I dismissed the call as a scam. But my skepticism vanished when the police arrived at my door, accompanied by Orion and Soren. It 

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became clear that Elara was the one who had committed the crime, her fear driving her to contact the authorities. The idea of disposing of the body was Orion’s and Soren’s, and they had manipulated the situation to frame me. 

Despite the evidence they fabricated and the 

clear traces of my life that disproved their 

claims, Orion and Soren’s moral intimidation 

continued. 

Under the watchful eyes of the people, Orion, half–kneeling before me, whispered, “Aria, you said you would repay me. I don’t want your repayment; I just want you to plead guilty.” His eyes were full of a cold, calculated resolve. 

I shook my head repeatedly. “Have you forgotten who donated a kidney to you when 

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you were suffering from kidney failure?” 

Orion’s disappointment was palpable as he shook his head. “Maybe I should have listened to myself back then. I shouldn’t have brought you home.” 

With those words, Orion turned his back on me, 

his voice cold. “Since you’re unwilling, don’t blame your brother for being ruthless.” 

I didn’t fully grasp what he meant by “ruthless” until the day of the court hearing. As I stood at the defendant’s stand, Orion brought my father -who had suffered from mental illness and was, for the moment, lucid–to the courtroom. When questioned by the judge, my father pointed at me and said slowly, “Your Honor, this is a recording of my daughter’s murder.” 

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Tears streamed down my face as I listened to the recording. It was from a week ago, during a visit to my father when his illness had worsened. I had been there only to comfort him, but now he had been manipulated into condemning me, driving me deeper into despair. 

As the gavel struck, sealing my fate, I was sentenced to death with a two–year reprieve. 

The finality of the verdict hit me like a ton of 

bricks. 

In a desperate cry, I shouted, “Orion, I’m your own sister, and you still did this to me!” My voice cracked with anguish. 

Their only response was their unnervingly 

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indifferent expressions. My fiance and my own brother were the ones who escorted me away. and the weight of their betrayal was almost unbearable. 

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