He Framed Me To Protect His Apprentice

Violet hadn’t spoken loudly, but after the explosion, her appearance had already drawn everyone’s attention. Her words caused a stir. After all, everyone knew Duncan favored Ella.

"Could it be true? Did Director Morris really throw Violet under the bus to protect his girlfriend?"

The whispers grew louder—a rising symphony of doubt and speculation—but she pushed forward, keeping her voice steady. "This has nothing to do with me. I could never—"

Duncan cut her off, his tone measured. "I know my concern for Ella over the years has built up resentment in you, but that’s between us. If you want to yell at me or hit me, do it in private. But Ella is still young. Can you really live with yourself if you throw her under the bus? When you noticed the equipment malfunction, you hurried out and tricked Ella into going in to check the records. Did you think that would make everyone blame her?"

His words landed like a physical blow. Each accusation was more absurd than the last. Duncan pressed on. "You think you can save face by blaming her? But someone saw everything."

Panic washed over her as her defenses crumbled under his accusations. How far would Duncan go to pin this disaster on her? She had never imagined how much effort he would put into making the blame stick to her.

Duncan sighed in defeat and stepped forward. "These details should’ve stayed private, but your unfounded accusations leave me no choice, Violet. I can’t stand by and let you go astray."

He turned away and walked toward Ella, who had been waiting at the end of the corridor for some time. Violet wanted to shout that it wasn’t true, that this was all a twisted lie, but her voice was gone—like her throat had been stuffed with cotton. She wanted to run after Duncan.

Suddenly, a shout cut through the crowd. "Violet Morris, I’ll kill you!"

Instinct kicked in. She turned just in time to see an unfamiliar man rushing past Duncan toward her with a knife. The blade found its mark in her abdomen.

In that searing moment, as pain tore through her, she saw it clearly: Duncan shielding Ella, not even sparing her a second glance. As she hit the ground, Ella glanced back over her shoulder with a smug grin—one meant only for her.

When Violet woke up, her abdomen was wrapped in layers of bandages. Any movement sent sharp waves of pain through her body, but she struggled out of bed, desperate to see whether her mother had regained consciousness.

A young nurse approached and urged her to stay in bed, but she grabbed her hand, desperation threading through her voice. "Did my mom wake up?"

The nurse hesitated, sadness flickering across her face. "Miss Morris, the surgery was unsuccessful. Your mother has lost all will to live. The doctors... they tried everything. I’m so sorry."

The strength drained from her limbs, and she collapsed onto the floor. "Did she... leave any message for me?"

The nurse shook her head gently. "You’re severely injured. Focus on healing; it’s the best thing you can do."

Violet let the nurse help her back into bed. Her chest ached with grief, but she couldn’t shed a single tear. A bitter laugh escaped her before she could stop it. Her mother had fiercely opposed her marriage to Duncan, insisting he wasn’t right for her. Yet in the end, her mother had trusted Duncan and believed his nonsense.

How could Violet tell her mother the truth? That she wasn’t responsible for anyone’s death—not even her brother Rohan’s?

She dug her nails into her palms. Only after she spat out a mouthful of blood did her head clear for a moment. She had to divorce Duncan. She had to report the true events to the organization. There was no time to waste.