The Shadow of St. Jude
The stone walls of St. Jude’s Orphanage were thick enough to swallow a thousand screams.
E.g. ：My mother-in-law exposed my husband's secret child during Christmas dinner.
- 1、The Shadow of St. Jude
- 2、A Ritual of Erasure
- 3、The Voice from the Fog
- 4、The Impossible Ribbon
- 5、The Truth in the Garden
- 6、A Deadly Bargain
Sister Mary had lived within those walls for seven years, ever since the night of the Great Fire at the Valois Estate.
To the other nuns, she was a silent, hardworking woman who spoke only in prayers and whispers.
No one suspected that the humble nun was actually Lady Elara, the disgraced governess who had vanished the same night the Valois family was massacred.
She had arrived at the orphanage with a bundle in her arms and a lie on her lips.
She told the Mother Superior that the infant was an abandoned foundling she discovered on the road.
In reality, the child was Sophie, the sole survivor and legal heir to the massive Valois fortune.
The green ribbon Mary clutched was the only proof of the girl's bloodline, a fragment of the family’s ceremonial crest.
For seven years, Mary had played the role of a holy woman to protect the child from the greedy relatives who wanted the girl dead.
But the "Black Suits," the family’s private investigators, were getting closer every day.
A Ritual of Erasure
The rose garden at the back of the orphanage was a place of decay and forgotten beauty.
Thorny vines strangled the stone angels, and the air always smelled of damp earth and old stone.
Mary knew that as long as Sophie kept the green ribbon, the danger would never truly vanish.
The child was obsessed with the scrap of silk, claiming it was the only thing that felt like "home."
Mary decided that for Sophie to live, the heiress had to die completely.
She waited until the purple twilight settled over the grounds, casting long, distorted shadows across the lawn.
She carried a small shovel and the bundle containing the girl's original birth certificate and the green ribbon.
She knelt in the center of the garden, between two massive rose bushes that bloomed with blood-red flowers.
The soil was soft, yielding easily to her frantic digging.
"No one will ever find you," she whispered to the dirt, her heart pounding against her ribs.
She wasn't just burying a ribbon; she was burying the ghost of the woman she used to be.
The Voice from the Fog
The evening crickets suddenly went silent, replaced by the heavy thud of Mary’s own heartbeat.
A low, volumetric fog began to roll in from the forest, swallowing the bases of the stone statues.
Mary smoothed the dirt over the shallow grave, her breath hitching in her throat.
She felt a strange sense of relief, believing the evidence of Sophie’s royal blood was finally hidden forever.
Then, the silence was shattered by a soft, rhythmic crunch of footsteps on the gravel path.
"Mama, what are you doing?"
The voice was light, innocent, and terrifyingly close.
Mary’s entire body spasmed with a jolt of pure adrenaline.
She turned her head so fast she felt a snap in her neck, her eyes searching the gloom.
Standing five meters away, near the base of a weeping angel statue, was Sophie.
The seven-year-old girl looked ethereal in her glowing white lace dress, her long blonde hair catching the faint moonlight.
But it was the expression on her face that made Mary’s stomach drop—it wasn't one of confusion, but of cold realization.
The Impossible Ribbon
Mary tried to find her voice, but her throat felt like it was filled with dry sand.
"Sophie, darling, you should be in the dormitory," Mary finally managed to choke out.
The girl didn't move; she just tilted her head slightly to the side, her eyes fixed on the freshly turned earth.
"I saw what you put in the hole, Mama," Sophie said, her voice devoid of its usual childhood warmth.
Mary stood up, trying to shield the grave with her black habit, her hands shaking uncontrollably.
"It was just some old trash, sweetheart, nothing for you to worry about."
Sophie stepped forward into the light, and Mary’s breath left her lungs in a sudden gasp.
The girl was holding her hands at her sides, and tied around her waist was a vibrant, shimmering green ribbon.
Mary looked down at the grave, then back at the girl, her mind reeling in a chaotic spiral.
