Chapter 4 The Threatening Note

Case File #04

Victim: Ophelia Ashby

Primary Suspect: Maverick Beaumont

Witness: Azalea Ashcroft

Location: St. Jude’s Academy, Dorm Room 304 & Main Corridor

The air inside Room 304 turned cold in an instant.

Azalea stayed frozen against her desk, her knuckles white where she gripped the edge of the wood. Her gaze darted back and forth between the crimson wax seal resting on her notebook and the key ring dangling from Raphael’s fingers.

Raphael took a cautious step past the threshold, setting his lantern on the nightstand. His eyes swept over the torn drawers, overturned textbooks, and the spilled tea into the rug.

"Lea, what happened here?" Raphael’s voice dropped into a tense, protective register. He moved toward her, stopping just far enough away to keep from crowding her. "Are you alright? Did someone break in?"

"I... I came back from the library," Azalea stammered, her voice barely a whisper. She pointed a trembling hand toward the desk. "The lock wasn't broken, Raphael. The door was just resting on the latch."

Raphael stepped toward the table and looked down at the parchment paper. His eyes scanned the message—Keep your mouth shut, or you're next, Ashcroft.

A sudden, sharp anger flared in his eyes—a stark departure from his usual gentle composure. His jaw set tight as he crumpled the parchment slightly in his fist.

"This is witness intimidation," Raphael said, his tone low and furious. "Someone on this campus knows you were near the South Tower tonight."

"Why do you have master keys, Raphael?" Azalea asked, unable to keep her voice from shaking. The question hung in the quiet room like a thin sheet of glass.

Raphael blinked, looking down at the key ring in his hand before offering a sad, understanding nod. He didn't raise his voice or act defensive. Instead, he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his official gold monitor badge.

"I’m the Senior Student Monitor for the North Wing, Lea," he explained softly, taking a step back to give her space. "After the police took Maverick away, Headmaster Vance put the entire residence block under lockdown. The monitors were given master passes to check every corridor and make sure students were locked in safely. I saw your door resting open when I turned the corner."

Relief washed over Azalea. Raphael wasn't the intruder; he was the only person on campus who had always shown her genuine kindness without an ulterior motive.

"We need to call Detective Hale back right now," Raphael insisted, stepping closer and placing a warm, steady hand on her shoulder. "This note is direct proof that the threat hasn't passed."

"No!" Azalea gasped, her hand shooting out to grasp his sleeve. Terror spiked in her chest. "Raphael, please. If the killer finds out I gave this note to the police, they won't just threaten me next time. Look at my room... they bypassed the locks. They can get to me anywhere."

Raphael stared down at her trembling frame, his eyes swimming with conflict. He hated the idea of keeping evidence quiet, but the sheer panic in her eyes made him hesitate. After a long silence, he let out a heavy sigh and nodded softly.

"Fine," Raphael murmured, his thumb gently brushing the back of her hand. "We won't go to the police tonight. But I’m staying right outside this door until Zoe gets back, and I'm putting a monitor post at the end of this hall."

True to his word, Raphael stayed in the hallway until Zoe returned. Zoe took one look at the trashed room and burst into tears before helping Azalea clean up.

By 3:00 AM, the room was restored to an uneasy order, but sleep was impossible as rain lashed against the glass.

The next morning, St. Jude’s Academy felt like a pressure cooker waiting to explode.

Pale gray fog clung to the Gothic spires of the main building, and the central courtyard remained off-limits, surrounded by yellow police tape. The third-floor main corridor was packed with students whispering in nervous clusters.

Azalea stood in front of her metal locker, her face pale and her eyes with dark circles. She inserted her key into the lock, her hands still slightly stiff from the cold.

"Did you see the morning forum updates?"

Zoe appeared beside her, holding two paper cups of dark coffee. Her eyes were wide behind her black-framed glasses, her true-crime obsession working in overdrive despite the real-world danger hovering around them.

"I didn't open my phone today," Azalea said quietly, opening her locker door with a low metallic click.

"As you remember, Detective Hale found Maverick’s family crest cufflink right in Ophelia’s fingers," Zoe whispered, leaning against the neighboring locker and taking a sharp sip of her coffee. "It’s practically a closed case, Lea. But the thread comments are getting wild. Half the school thinks Maverick acted alone, but the senior board members are hinting that Ophelia had blackmail material on half the elite families here."

Azalea kept her eyes fixed on her textbooks inside the locker. "Zoe, we shouldn't speculate on things we don't know."

"I'm not just speculating!" Zoe protested in a low, sharp hiss, stepping closer. "My dad's friend in the precinct said the police are treating this as a high-stakes premeditated hit. Think about it—a dark party, a sudden breakup argument in public to create a distraction, and then a fall from the tower? It fits the classic narcissistic sociopath pattern perfectly. Maverick thought his family's money would cover his tracks."

Zoe paused, her expression turning dead serious as she looked at Azalea. "And honestly... seeing how shaken up you were last night? It freaks me out. What if the person who trashed our room wasn't just looking for something, Lea? What if they were testing how fast they could get to you?"

Azalea felt a cold, sharp shiver run down her spine. She reached into her wool coat pocket, her fingers brushing against the folded parchment note she had hidden there from the night before.

Keep your mouth shut or you're next.

"Zoe... what if Maverick isn't the only one involved?" Azalea whispered, turning her head slightly to look down the crowded corridor.

Elite students in tailored blazers walked past them, laughing softly or exchanging gossip, completely unbothered by the terror suffocating Azalea. Any one of them could belong to the secret inner circles Ophelia had threatened. Any one of them could be holding a duplicate key.

"What do you mean?" Zoe asked, her brow furrowing in confusion.

Before Azalea could answer, the doors at the end of the main corridor swung open.

The low chatter in the hallway died down instantly. Every head turned toward the entrance as two security guards stepped inside, followed by a tall figure dressed in a tailored black blazer.

Azalea’s breath caught violently in her throat.

It was Maverick.

He walked into the main hall with effortless, unbothered grace, his dark hair neat and his jawline sharp. He wasn't in handcuffs. He wasn't in a police station. He walked through the halls of St. Jude's with the quiet, dangerous confidence of a king returning to his throne—and his cold, dark eyes were locked directly on Azalea.