An unexpected gift from a secret Santa arrived. My hands shook with  a light tremor as I unraveled the satin ribbon and opened the box. There it was. Lying on a white cotton kerchief, the very knife I used to stab a certain Mr. Victor Carroway. 


The shiny steel caught the light from the desk lamp and glinted as though it were taunting me. Every feature was identical: the ornate handle, the faint stain at the base of the blade where blood had previously dried before I meticulously cleaned it. My heart thudded in my chest, and my first thought was to slam the box shut and throw it in the fire.


But I did not.


Instead, I stared at it, my thoughts racing back to that night—the night I finally broke free from Victor's suffocating shadow. The golden boy, the family's pride, the man possessing everything I ever desired. Wealth, charm, and power—he controlled all with effortlessness, leaving me with scraps. 

 And so, on that stormy evening in his study, I took what was mine.

Or so I thought.

The knife was supposed to be gone. I’d buried it deep in the woods, far from prying eyes. My hands had bled from digging into the frozen earth, but I hadn’t cared. It was done, or so I believed.

Now it was back.

A folded card slipped from the edge of the box, falling onto the desk. My pulse quickened as I picked it up, unfolding it with trembling fingers. The words were scrawled in crimson ink, the strokes sharp and deliberate:

"Your secrets aren’t as buried as you think. Merry Christmas."

Cold sweat prickled the back of my neck. I looked around the small study, half-expecting to see someone lurking in the shadows, watching me. But I was alone—or so it seemed.

Who could have sent it? No one had seen me that night. I’d been careful, I was certain. The thought that someone knew was unbearable. Was it one of Victor’s business partners? One of his so-called friends? Someone who had been watching from the shadows, waiting for the right moment to strike?

The precinct came to mind. The investigation into Victor’s murder had stalled weeks ago, the police spinning theories but finding no leads. And now, this. My chest tightened.

Whoever had sent the knife wasn’t just taunting me. They were threatening me. And worse, they knew I wasn’t some random brother grieving his perfect sibling.

They knew I was the killer.