THE MAN SHE BURIED
673 Words
CHAPTER 3:
The man who was supposed to be dead.
“Move,” she snapped, shoving past two guests near the staircase.
Her heels clicked sharply against the marble steps as she ran upward, heart pounding harder with every second.
By the time she reached the balcony—
No one was there.
Only the night wind.
And an empty glass of champagne resting on the rail.
Liana gripped the metal so tightly her fingers hurt.
“No…”
“He’s gone.”
She spun around.
Adrian Vale stood a few feet away, jacket open, expression unreadable.
“You followed me?”
“I stopped security from following you,” he said calmly. “You’re welcome.”
Her eyes flashed.
“Did you plan this?”
“If I wanted to embarrass you, I’d do it privately.”
“You think you’re funny?”
“No.” He stepped closer. “I think you’re in danger.”
Liana laughed once, bitter and sharp.
“From who? You?”
His jaw tightened.
“You always assume the easiest answer.”
“And you always avoid the honest one.”
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
The city lights glowed below them. Music drifted faintly from inside. But on that balcony, the air felt charged.
Liana held up a shaking finger.
“That message said to ask you what happened to my father.”
Adrian’s gaze darkened.
“Not here.”
“Now.”
“Liana—”
“Don’t say my name like you know me.”
Something in his face changed at that.
A flicker of anger. Or hurt.
“I know enough,” he said quietly. “Enough to tell you your father was not the man you worshipped.”
Her hand moved before she thought.
The slap cracked across his face.
He didn’t flinch.
Didn’t touch his cheek.
Didn’t even blink.
Liana’s chest rose and fell rapidly.
“Say one more thing about him,” she whispered, “and I’ll forget this is a public event.”
Adrian slowly looked back at her.
“You came here for revenge,” he said. “But you don’t even know the truth.”
She turned away.
If she stayed one more second, she might scream.
Or worse—
Listen.
Later That Night
Rain had started again by the time she reached her apartment.
A small rented place. Temporary. Forgettable.
Exactly how she wanted it.
She locked the door behind her and leaned against it, finally breathing.
Then she froze.
The room was wrong.
A drawer hung open.
Cushions were on the floor.
Cabinets half-open.
Someone had been inside.
Liana grabbed the metal lamp from the side table.
“Who’s there?”
Silence.
She moved carefully through the living room, then bedroom.
No one.
But everything had been searched.
Fast. Desperate.
Her suitcase lay overturned on the bed. Clothes scattered.
She rushed to the hidden compartment beneath the lining.
Still there.
Passport. Cash. Fake IDs.
Untouched.
Then what were they looking for?
Her eyes moved to the dresser.
The wooden jewelry box was open.
Empty.
Her breath caught.
“No…”
She dropped the lamp and knelt, searching frantically.
Nothing.
The necklace was gone.
The only thing her mother had left her.
A silver pendant with no name, no stone—just an odd symbol engraved on the back.
Worthless to anyone else.
Priceless to her.
Her phone rang.
Unknown number.
She answered immediately.
“What do you want?”
A man’s voice replied, rough and low.
“You should have stayed away.”
“Who are you?”
A soft chuckle.
“Ask Adrian Vale why your mother wore that necklace the night she died.”
The line went dead.
Liana stared at the phone, pulse racing.
Then another sound came from behind her.
The creak of a floorboard.
She spun around.
A tall figure stood in the dark hallway of her apartment.
Watching her.
Watching quietly.
Rainlight flashed across his face.
It was Adrian.
And in his hand—
Her mother’s necklace
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