Page 165 of Porcelain Lies

I take a deep breath, choosing my words carefully. “I’m still here… with Aleksei, and—”

“That slimy bastard,” she mutters. “If he’s done anything to you, I’ll—”

“No! It’s nothing like that,” I say quickly. Because aside from being locked up here, I’m not being mistreated in any way. Quite the opposite, actually. “I need you to look into something for me.”

“Okaaay,” she draws the word out. “Tell me what you need.”

I take a deep breath. “Look, I need you to help me find out the real reason behind my dad’s death.”

“Your dad’s death? But you said he died in an accident.” She pauses. “You think there’s more to it?”

“I do,” I admit. “My mother always said it wasn’t an accident. Nobody would believe her, Han.” It breaks my heart to say it because I was one of them. “It pushed her to the edge eventually.” I swallow hard. “It’s why she killed herself.”

“Oh God, Stella. I’m so sorry.” Hannah’s voice is husky. “You never said much about it, and I always just assumed…”

“Maybe it’s my fault. I should have listened to her.” My voice breaks slightly.

“No, don’t do that to yourself, Stell.” Her tone grows firm. “Suicide is a terrible thing, and it’s never anyone’s fault. I don’t care what people say. She made that decision herself. And there was probably more to it. Your parents were always so close.”

“I know,” I sigh. “They were inseparable.” I remember how we’d always joked about Mom and Dad being joined at the hip. Even with all his drinking problems, it was clear my father adored her.

“Alright, I’ll see what I can dig up,” Hannah says. “Leave it to me,” she assures me. “I have some contacts that might be able to help.”

Relief washes over me. “You’re a lifesaver.”

“Hey, what are best friends for?” she quips lightly. “Just promise me you’ll stay safe.”

“I will.”

“Good. And Stella… if you need anything else, anytime, call me.”

“Thank you, Han,” I say again, my voice soft.

We end the call, and I carefully hide the phone, tucking it away. Just as I close the drawer, a light knock sounds at the door.

“Stella?” Diana’s voice drifts through. “May I come in?”

I smooth down my pajama top, taking a steadying breath. “Yes, of course.”

She enters gracefully, a tray in her hands. “I thought I’d have breakfast with you today. If you don’t mind.”

I offer a small smile. “I’d like that.”

She sets the tray on the small table by the window. The morning sunlight casts a gentle glow, and for a moment, the tension eases.

“How are you feeling?” she asks, her gaze appraising.

“Fine,” I lie. “Just a bit tired.”

She nods, folding her hands elegantly in front of her. “It’s important to rest. Stress isn’t good for the baby.”

“I know,” I reply, taking a seat at the table. The meal is modest — oatmeal with fresh berries and a side of herbal tea.

Diana takes a seat opposite me, reaching for a bowl and drizzling honey over the contents. “Aleksei mentioned you had some problems?”

I stir the oatmeal slowly. “He said he’d handle it.”

Her lips press into a thin line. “He can be… quite protective.”

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