Chapter four
1308 Words
The ride back to Damien’s penthouse was painfully silent.
Zara sat beside her husband in the back of the luxury sedan, her hands folded tightly in her lap.
Outside, the city lights blurred past the window.
Inside, the tension was suffocating. Damien hadn’t spoken a single word since they left the hotel.
Not one. Not after abandoning their first dance. Not after embarrassing her in front of hundreds of guests.
Not after acting as though she barely existed throughout the entire reception.
The silence made her feel invisible. She hated it.
Across from them sat Damien’s assistant, Marcus, reviewing something on a tablet. Even he seemed uncomfortable.
Every few minutes he glanced between them before quickly looking away.
The atmosphere was impossible to ignore. Finally, Marcus cleared his throat.
“Sir, tomorrow’s board meeting has been moved to ten.”
Damien nodded. “Fine.”
“Also, the investors from Singapore confirmed their arrival.”
“Reschedule.”
Marcus blinked.
“Reschedule?”
“I won’t be available.”
For the first time that evening, Zara looked at him. The statement surprised her.
Damien never canceled meetings.
Everyone knew that. Work always came first. Always. Yet tonight he was postponing appointments.
Why?
Before she could think about it further, the car stopped.
The driver stepped out and opened the door. Damien exited first. Without waiting for her. Zara swallowed her irritation and followed.
The penthouse occupied the top three floors of one of the tallest buildings in the city. Glass. Steel. Luxury. The kind of place featured in magazines.
A place most people could only dream about living in. Tonight it felt strangely cold.
The elevator doors opened directly into the penthouse.
The moment they stepped inside, the staff lined up to greet them.
“Welcome home, Mr. and Mrs. Blackwood.”
Home. The word felt foreign. Zara smiled politely.
Damien walked past everyone without acknowledging them.
A woman in her forties stepped forward.
“Congratulations, Mrs. Blackwood. I’m Evelyn, the house manager. If you need anything, please let me know.”
“Thank you.”
Evelyn’s smile was warm. Genuine. One of the first genuine smiles Zara had received all day. It eased some of the tension in her chest.
“Your luggage has already been moved upstairs.”
“Thank you.”
Evelyn hesitated. Then she lowered her voice.
“If you need anything at all, don’t hesitate to ask.”
The words sounded normal. Yet something about the way she said them felt deliberate. As though she wanted to say more.
Before Zara could ask, Damien’s voice cut through the room.
“Evelyn.”
The woman immediately straightened.
“Yes, sir.”
“That’s enough.”
The warmth disappeared from her expression.
“Of course.”
A strange look passed between them. Then Evelyn walked away. Zara frowned.
Everyone was acting strangely. The guests. The older woman. Her father. Now the staff.
It felt as though she had walked into the middle of a story everyone else already knew. Everyone except her.
“Your room is on the second floor.”
Damien’s voice pulled her from her thoughts. She stared at him.
“My room?”
His expression remained unreadable.
“The east wing.”
For several seconds she simply looked at him. Surely she had misunderstood.
“We’re married.”
“Yes.”
The answer was immediate. Cold. Matter-of-fact. A knot formed in her stomach.
“Then why do I have my own room?”
Damien loosened his tie.
“Because that’s where you’ll be staying.”
The realization hit her slowly. Painfully. Separate rooms. On their wedding night.
The humiliation from the reception suddenly seemed insignificant compared to this.
She laughed softly. Not because anything was funny. Because she couldn’t believe this was happening.
“You’re serious.”
“Yes.”
“Most married couples sleep in the same room.”
“We’re not most married couples.” The words stung.
Zara looked away.
She refused to let him see how much. The silence that followed stretched between them. Finally she took a breath.
“Did I do something wrong?”
The question escaped before she could stop it.
For the first time all evening, something changed in Damien’s expression.
A flicker of surprise. Then guilt. Then something else. Something darker.
“No.”
“Then why are you treating me like this?”
His jaw tightened. He looked as though he was fighting an internal battle. One she couldn’t understand.
“Get some rest, Zara.”
That was it. No explanation. No comfort. No apology. Just dismissal. Something inside her cracked. Not completely. Just enough.
She had spent years loving this man. Years believing there was more beneath the cold exterior. Years convincing herself that he cared. Tonight she wasn’t so sure.
“Fine.”
She turned toward the staircase. Halfway there, she stopped. The note inside her clutch suddenly felt heavier.
The warning. The older woman. The fear on her father’s face. The whispers. The missing dance. None of it made sense. She glanced back. Damien stood exactly where she’d left him. Looking exhausted. Not angry. Not annoyed. Exhausted.
As though he were carrying a weight no one else could see.
For a brief moment, she almost felt sorry for him. Then she remembered the separate bedrooms. The humiliation. The distance. The coldness.
Without another word, she walked upstairs. The guest room assigned to her was larger than most apartments. Elegant furniture filled the space. Fresh flowers sat on the bedside table.
A wedding gift from the staff, perhaps. Yet despite the luxury, it didn’t feel like hers. Nothing about this place felt like home.
Zara sat on the edge of the bed. Slowly, she removed the folded note from her clutch.
She stared at the handwriting. Something isn’t right. The words seemed even more unsettling now.
A knock sounded on the door. She quickly hid the note.
“Come in.”
Evelyn stepped inside carrying a tray. Tea. Cookies. A small gesture of kindness.
“Thought you might like something warm before bed.”
“Thank you.”
Evelyn placed the tray on the table.
For a moment she seemed reluctant to leave.
As though she wanted to say something.
Zara noticed immediately.
“What is it?”
The older woman hesitated.
Then she sighed.
“Nothing.”
“You can tell me.”
Evelyn glanced toward the hallway. Making sure they were alone.
When she looked back, her eyes were troubled.
“Mrs. Blackwood…” She stopped.
The hesitation only increased Zara’s curiosity.
“Yes?”
Evelyn swallowed.
“If anyone tries to tell you something about the past…”
A chill swept through Zara.
“…make sure you hear the entire story before you decide who to trust.”
The room suddenly felt colder.
“What does that mean?”
But Evelyn’s face had already closed off. Professional. Guarded.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.”
Before Zara could stop her, she turned and left.
The door clicked shut. Silence filled the room. Zara stared at the empty doorway. Her pulse quickened.
The note. The mysterious woman. Now Evelyn.
Three warnings in a single night. Three. And none of them made any sense. She stood and walked toward the window.
Far below, the city glowed beneath the darkness.
Everything looked peaceful. Normal.
Yet deep inside, she knew something was terribly wrong. Her gaze drifted downward. Toward the entrance of the building.
A black car had just pulled up. Someone stepped out. A woman. Tall. Elegant. Familiar. The moment Zara saw her, her breath caught.
The woman from the balcony. The one who claimed to know her mother. The woman who seemed afraid of her father. She wasn’t leaving. She was coming inside.
And judging by the way the doorman greeted her, she had been there before.
- Writer
