Chapter 2 - The Man Who Watched The Truth
The first thing I noticed the next morning was that nobody came into my flower shop.
That had never happened before.
Brooks & Bloom was not a huge business.
It was not the kind of place where celebrities walked in wearing sunglasses and ordering hundreds of roses.
It was small.
Warm.
Personal.
People came because they trusted me.
They knew my name.
They knew I remembered their favorite flowers.
They knew I would stay late if someone needed a last-minute anniversary bouquet.
But that morning, the bell above my door barely moved.
The street outside was busy.
Cars passed.
People walked by.
But nobody stopped.
I stood behind the counter holding a cup of coffee that had already gone cold.
Kayla walked in carrying her phone.
Her expression told me something was wrong before she even spoke.
"Amelia."
I looked up.
"What?"
She hesitated.
Then she placed her phone on the counter.
Another video.
Another post.
Another lie.
The edited clip from Bellamy & Rowe had spread overnight.
Thousands of views.
Hundreds of comments.
Most of them from people who had never met me.
People who knew nothing about me.
People who had decided exactly who I was after watching thirty seconds of a fake story.
"She attacked a store manager."
"People like this always play the victim."
"She should be banned from businesses."
I stared at the screen.
Not because the comments hurt.
They did.
But because I understood something.
Someone had worked very hard to make sure the world saw me as the villain.
And that meant someone was afraid of the truth.
Kayla sat down.
"Amelia, maybe you should close today."
I shook my head.
"No."
"Your face is still bruised."
"I know."
"People are talking."
"I know."
She looked frustrated.
"Then why are you acting like nothing happened?"
I looked around my shop.
At the flowers waiting to be delivered.
At the handwritten notes attached to arrangements.
At the little wooden sign my father built before he passed away.
BROOKS & BLOOM.
Something about that sign reminded me who I was.
"I didn't do anything wrong."
Kayla became quiet.
Then she nodded.
"Okay."
But I could tell she was worried.
And honestly, so was I.
Because the problem was no longer Vanessa Clark.
The problem was whoever was standing behind her.
Later that afternoon, Officer Ramirez came into my shop.
She looked tired.
Like she had spent the entire night fighting a battle nobody else could see.
"I need to show you something."
She placed a folder on the counter.
Inside were screenshots.
More posts.
More fake accounts.
"They started appearing within an hour after the incident."
I frowned.
"That fast?"
She nodded.
"Too fast."
I looked at her.
"What does that mean?"
"It means this wasn't random."
The words stayed between us.
I opened the folder.
One account had posted the edited video.
The account was created two days earlier.
No profile picture.
No history.
No friends.
A fake account.
Officer Ramirez pointed at another document.
"This person also contacted your bank."
My stomach tightened.
"What?"
"They sent them the same edited footage."
I slowly sat down.
Someone had gone from embarrassing me to attacking my business.
My flower shop.
The thing I had spent years building.
"Can you find them?"
She shook her head slightly.
"Not yet."
The answer bothered me.
Not because she was failing.
Because whoever did this was prepared.
Before she left, Officer Ramirez stopped at the door.
"Amelia."
I looked up.
"Be careful."
It was the way she said it.
Not like a warning.
Like a fact.
After she left, I locked the door earlier than usual.
For the first time since opening Brooks & Bloom, I was afraid to be alone inside my own shop.
That night, I received an unknown call.
I almost ignored it.
But something made me answer.
"Hello?"
Silence.
Then a man's voice.
Deep.
Calm.
"Are you Amelia Brooks?"
I stood up.
"Who is this?"
"My name is Adrian Moretti."
The name meant nothing to me.
Not at first.
"I'm sorry, do I know you?"
"No."
A pause.
"But you know my mother."
My hand tightened around the phone.
"Isabella?"
"Yes."
I looked toward the dark window of my shop.
"Is she okay?"
"My mother is fine."
His voice changed slightly.
Not softer.
More serious.
"But you are not."
I frowned.
"What does that mean?"
"It means someone tried to make you look guilty because they needed you to disappear."
I felt a chill.
"I don't understand."
"You will."
I heard papers moving on the other end.
Then he said:
"I have the original security footage from Bellamy & Rowe."
My breath stopped.
"The real footage?"
"Yes."
"And?"
"And it proves what happened."
I closed my eyes.
For the first time in two days, someone had said something that sounded like the truth.
"Why are you helping me?"
There was a pause.
Then Adrian answered.
"Because you protected my mother when nobody else did."
I didn't know what to say.
I had helped an elderly woman because it felt like the right thing to do.
I never expected anything in return.
Especially not from someone like Adrian Moretti.
"You don't know me," I said.
"No."
His voice became quieter.
"But I know enough."
The call ended a few seconds later.
I stood there holding the phone.
Trying to understand why a stranger with access to hidden footage had decided to involve himself.
The next morning, a black car stopped outside Brooks & Bloom.
I saw it through the window.
A man in a dark suit stepped out.
Then another.
My first thought was that I had made a mistake.
That maybe Adrian Moretti was not someone I should trust.
The door opened.
The bell rang.
The man walked inside.
He was tall.
Calm.
His eyes immediately found mine.
"Amelia Brooks?"
I didn't answer.
He placed a small envelope on the counter.
"Adrian Moretti asked me to give you this."
I looked at the envelope.
"What is it?"
"Evidence."
My fingers moved toward it.
But before I touched it, the man stopped me.
"There is something you need to know first."
I looked at him.
"What?"
His expression changed.
For the first time, I saw something close to concern.
"The person who ordered the attack on your reputation wasn't Vanessa Clark."
My heart started beating faster.
"Then who was it?"
He looked toward the locked front door.
Then back at me.
"Someone who already knows everything about you."
I slowly opened the envelope.
Inside was a photograph.
A photograph of me.
Standing in front of Brooks & Bloom.
Taken three weeks earlier.
But on the back was a handwritten message.
Five words.
I read them once.
Then again.
Because I knew that handwriting.
It was impossible.
May you like
The message said:
"Ask your father about Isabella."
