When Ella Stopped Being Ella

When Ella Stopped Being Ella

Joy Brown · Completed · 7.6k Words

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Introduction

Sebastian is dead.

And I'm the prime suspect.

I thought Lucy was the only one on my side, but there's always panic in her eyes. Black stockings showing up in my closet, red marks on my wrists I can't explain, texts sent from my phone that I never wrote...

The evidence keeps piling up, choking me.

My memory's slipping, the same broken nightmares on repeat. Strange perfume, cruel words, and the name "Leah" that won't leave my head.

Who is lying? Who's pulling the strings?

I can't tell what's real anymore. All I know is everyone's lying to me.

I need to find who's behind this before it destroys me.

Chapter 1

Ella's POV

"Ella White? This is Detective Marcus Rossi from the police department."

My heart clenched, fingertips turning ice-cold in an instant. A police call in the dead of night never meant good news.

I gripped the receiver, my voice trembling uncontrollably. "Yes, that's me. What happened?"

"Is Sebastian Cole your husband? He's dead." Rossi's voice was flat, emotionless. "Found in the warehouse at his private dock. No pulse. Come down to the station now. We need you to cooperate with the investigation."

I didn't hear anything after that. The receiver buzzed with static, mixing with the rain and pounding in my skull.

Sebastian was dead?

I stood frozen until Rossi called my name repeatedly on the other end. Only then did I choke out a sob and hang up.

I grabbed my coat, snatched an umbrella, and rushed out. My mind was chaos—Sebastian's face everywhere. His smile when he sweet-talked me, his fury when he screamed, his promises to take care of me forever. It all crashed together, suffocating me.

The dock was already cordoned off with police tape. Red and blue lights flashed through the rain, casting eerie shadows on the slick ground.

I rushed forward but was stopped by an officer. After tearfully giving my name, he reluctantly let me through.

A man in a dark trench coat stood by the warehouse entrance, smoking. The rain immediately dampened the smoke as it left his cigarette. He turned—eyes sharp as knives. Detective Rossi, no doubt.

"Ms. White, holding up?" He stubbed out the cigarette, his tone softer than on the phone, but those scrutinizing eyes didn't ease up one bit.

I shook my head and stared at the warehouse door, wanting to rush in. He blocked me with one arm. "Can't go in there. We'll talk here." He pulled out a notebook and pen. "Between eight and ten tonight, where were you? What were you doing?"

"I was home grading essays, waiting for him to come back." I tried to steady my voice, but it came out broken. "He said he was going to the warehouse to check inventory. Didn't say when he'd be back."

"Anyone who can verify that?"

"I live alone." I paused, my mind foggy. "Lucy came by in the afternoon, left around six."

Rossi scribbled in his notebook, the scratch of pen on paper unnaturally loud in the rain. "Why did he go to the warehouse at night? Who was he meeting?"

"I don't know." I bit my lip as tears finally spilled over. "He never told me about work stuff. Just said he had a shipment that had to be cleared tonight."

Just then, hurried footsteps approached. Lucy ran over with a pink umbrella, immediately throwing her arms around me when she saw me, squeezing so tight she nearly crushed me. "Ella! I came as soon as I heard—I'm so sorry I'm late!" Her voice was thick with tears and concern. "Don't be scared. I'm here with you."

I collapsed into her arms, sobbing. She was my only friend in Harper Harbor, my only support. She rubbed my back, murmuring comfort.

"Ms. Green," Rossi's voice cut in, interrupting us. "Where were you after six tonight?"

Lucy kept her arm around my shoulders as she turned to face him, her expression a mix of grief and anger. "I went home! Straight home after leaving Ella. My neighbors can vouch for that. Who did this to Sebastian? This is horrible!"

Rossi didn't respond, just nodded and asked me more questions about Sebastian's social circle. I shook my head to all of them.

I knew nothing about his world. He never introduced me to his friends or clients, just kept me at home.

By one in the morning, Rossi finally let us go.

Lucy supported me—I was limp as a rag doll—and hailed a cab back to the apartment. Opening the door, everything was exactly as I'd left it. But the person who always came home late would never return again.

Lucy poured me hot water and ran a bath. "Take a bath and get some sleep. I'll handle everything." She sat beside me, holding my hand, her eyes impossibly gentle.

I nodded numbly and went to the bathroom. The hot water eased the chill from my body, but the ache in my heart didn't lessen one bit.

Eyes closed, Sebastian's face and Rossi's stare kept flashing through my mind. I had no idea when this nightmare would end, or who had killed him.

After bathing, I went to the bedroom to change. Opening the dresser drawer, a pair of black stockings lay conspicuously next to my cotton socks.

They weren't mine. I never wore things like that, especially not tight black stockings.

I reached out to touch them. The moment the cool, smooth fabric met my fingertips, a sharp pain shot through my head, my stomach churning violently.

Fragments flashed before my eyes—dim lights, nauseating perfume, Sebastian's cold voice cursing in my ear. I shook uncontrollably, nearly losing my balance.

"Ella? What's wrong?" Lucy heard the commotion and rushed in. Seeing me staring at the drawer, deathly pale, she glanced at the black stockings. Her eyes flickered with panic for a split second—so fast it might have been my imagination.

"Whose are these?" I pointed at the stockings, my voice hoarse.

Lucy walked over and picked them up, putting on a look of sudden realization. "Oh, they're mine! I left them here last time I stayed over. Thought I'd lost them."

She quickly stuffed the stockings into her bag and shut the drawer. "Come on, get changed and sleep. Stop overthinking. I'm here."

I watched her back, doubt gnawing at me.

Lucy didn't wear black stockings either. She only ever wore light-colored cotton socks. And her last sleepover was a month ago—she was only remembering to look for them now?

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