Chapter five
1184 Words
Zara didn’t sleep. She tried. For nearly an hour, she lay in bed staring at the ceiling, replaying the events of the day. The abandoned first dance. The anonymous note. The strange warnings. The woman from the balcony.
And now that same woman had entered Damien’s building as though she belonged there. None of it made sense.
At half past midnight, Zara finally gave up on sleep.
She slipped out of bed and wrapped a silk robe around herself. The penthouse was quiet. Most of the staff had retired for the night.
Only a few lights remained on downstairs. Carefully, she made her way toward the staircase.
She wasn’t even sure what she was looking for. Answers, perhaps.
Or maybe proof that she wasn’t imagining things.
As she reached the first floor, voices drifted from the study. She froze.
The door wasn’t fully closed. Light spilled into the hallway.
One of the voices belonged to Damien. The other belonged to a woman. Zara’s pulse quickened.
Slowly, she stepped closer. She recognized the second voice immediately. It was the woman from the balcony.
“I told you this was a mistake,” the woman said.
Her tone was tense. Frustrated. Damien sounded equally unhappy.
“You shouldn’t have approached her.”
“I didn’t have a choice.”
“Stay away from my wife.”
The possessiveness in his voice surprised Zara.
For a brief moment, warmth spread through her chest. Then the woman laughed bitterly.
“Your wife?”
Silence followed. An uncomfortable silence. The kind that made Zara’s stomach twist.
“Do you really think this ends well?” the woman asked quietly.
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It matters to her.”
The conversation stopped. Zara leaned closer. The floor creaked beneath her foot. A tiny sound. But loud enough. The voices inside immediately fell silent. Her heart jumped.
A second later, the study door opened. Damien stepped into the hallway. His dark eyes locked onto hers.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then his gaze dropped to her bare feet.
“What are you doing awake?”
Zara’s mouth went dry.
“I couldn’t sleep.”
His expression remained unreadable.
Behind him, the woman emerged from the study.
The moment she saw Zara, regret flashed across her face.
“Mrs. Blackwood.”
“Who are you?” Zara asked.
The question came out sharper than intended. The woman hesitated.
“I think we already met.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
The silence stretched. Damien’s jaw tightened.
“That’s enough.”
“No, it isn’t.”
Zara looked between them.
“I’ve spent the entire day feeling like everyone knows something I don’t.”
Neither answered.
“I deserve an explanation.”
The woman looked away first. That alone told Zara something. Not what was happening. But that something definitely was. Finally, the woman forced a smile.
“My name is Victoria.”
“Victoria who?”
Another hesitation.
“An old family friend.”
The answer sounded rehearsed.
Zara knew it instantly.
And judging from Damien’s expression, so did he.
“Family friend?” she repeated.
Victoria nodded.
“Your mother and I were close once.”
“My mother died when I was ten.”
Pain flashed across Victoria’s face.
“I know.”
The reaction felt genuine.
For the first time, Zara believed at least that part.
“What exactly do you want from me?” Victoria opened her mouth. Then closed it again.
A look passed between her and Damien. One that irritated Zara more than she cared to admit.
They were communicating without words. And she was being shut out. Again.
“You should get some rest,” Damien said.
The dismissal ignited something inside her.
“No.”
Both of them looked surprised. Zara rarely raised her voice. Tonight was different.
“I am tired of everyone telling me to rest.”
She looked directly at Damien.
“You left me standing alone at our wedding.”
His expression darkened.
“You gave me a separate bedroom.”
Silence.
“You disappear whenever I ask a question.”
Still silence.
“And now I’m standing in my own house with a stranger who clearly knows something about my family.”
Her chest rose and fell rapidly.
“I want answers.”
For a brief moment, Damien actually looked conflicted. Not angry. Conflicted. As though he wanted to tell her something. Then the wall returned. Cold. Solid. Untouchable.
“Not tonight.” The words landed like a slap.
Zara stared at him. Then she laughed softly. A humorless sound.
“Of course.”
She should have expected that.
Without another word, she turned and headed back toward the staircase.
“Zara.”
Damien’s voice stopped her.
For one foolish second, hope flickered. Maybe he had changed his mind. Maybe he would finally explain. Slowly, she looked back.
His expression softened slightly. Only slightly.
“Be careful who you trust.”
Her heart sank. Another warning. Another mystery. Another answer that wasn’t actually an answer.
“Goodnight, Damien.”
She walked away before he could say anything else.
Back in her room, Zara locked the door. For several minutes she stood motionless. Then she pulled out her phone.
There was only one person she trusted completely.
Her father. Her thumb hovered over his number. Part of her felt ridiculous. She was twenty-six years old. A married woman.
Yet all she wanted was to hear her father’s voice.
Finally, she pressed call. The line rang twice. Three times. Then connected.
“Zara?”
His voice sounded breathless. Almost alarmed.
“Dad.”
Relief flooded through her.
“Is everything alright?” he asked immediately.
The question struck her as odd.
“Why wouldn’t it be?”
Silence. Too much silence.
“Dad?”
“I’m here.”
Something was wrong. She could hear it. Feel it.
The same nervousness she’d noticed at the reception.
The same tension.
“Dad, do you know someone named Victoria?”
The silence on the other end became absolute. A horrible feeling settled in Zara’s stomach.
When he finally spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper.
“Where did you hear that name?”
Her grip tightened around the phone. So he knew her.
“Dad—”
“Listen to me carefully.”
The urgency in his tone startled her.
“If that woman contacts you again, stay away from her.”
Fear prickled down her spine.
“Why?”
Another pause. Then:
“Because some ghosts should stay buried.”
The call ended. Just like that. No explanation. No goodbye. Nothing.
Zara stared at her phone in disbelief. A moment later, it vibrated. A new message had arrived from an unknown number.
Her heartbeat quickened. Slowly, she opened it. There was no text. Only a photograph. An old photograph.
The image showed two young women smiling at the camera.
One of them was unmistakably her mother. The other was Victoria.
Written across the bottom in black ink were five chilling words:
Ask your father the truth.
- Writer
