Chapter 2: The Midnight Accusation
872 Words
"Cut the act," he growled, his voice breaking with raw emotion as he leaned down, his face inches from mine through the gap in the door. "I spent the last three hours checking every database in Paris, Aria. You don't exist. Now tell me the truth before I break this door down... Elena."
Hearing my real name escape his lips after three long years felt like a physical blow to my chest. For a split second, the ghost of the terrified, broken girl I used to be wanted to scream, to cry, to beg him to believe me.
But that girl died in a prison cell.
I forced my heart rate down, letting a cold, mocking mask settle over my features. I didn't flinch. I didn't blink. Instead, I slowly unlatched the security chain, swinging the heavy oak door wide open.
Xavier stumbled back half a step, surprised by my sudden compliance. He stood in the doorway, his tuxedo tie completely undone, his white shirt unbuttoned at the collar, and his dark hair wildly messy. He looked dangerous, desperate, and utterly unhinged.
"Mr. Vance," I said, my voice dripping with smooth, Parisian ice. I crossed my arms, leaning against the doorframe as if he were nothing more than an annoying late-night distraction. "Are you drunk, or is it a habit of yours to harass your international consultants at one o'clock in the morning?"
"Stop playing with me!" Xavier roared, stepping into my suite and slamming the door shut behind him. The loud thud echoed through the room. He advanced on me like a predator closing in on its prey, stopping so close I could feel the frantic heat radiating from his body. "I know it’s you. I know that scent. I know those eyes. You can change your clothes, your hair, and your name, Elena, but you cannot hide from me."
I let out a soft, sharp laugh, stepping back just enough to look him up and down with utter disdain.
"Elena?" I repeated the name, tilting my head as if trying to recall a distant memory. "Ah... the thief your mother mentioned at the gala. The one who is supposedly dead to you." I took a step closer, my eyes locking onto his fierce intensity. "Look at me closely, Xavier. Do I look like a penniless thief to you?"
Xavier’s jaw clenched, a muscle ticking violently in his cheek. His eyes swept over my silk robe, the luxury suite, and the absolute lack of fear in my posture. Elena he knew would have been trembling. Elena he knew would have been weeping.
"My background is highly classified because I handle multi-million-dollar corporate restructurings, Mr. Vance," I lied smoothly, my voice unwavering. "If your little internet search failed to find my credentials, it is because your security clearance isn't high enough. Not because I don't exist."
He stared at me, his chest heaving, his dark eyes tearing through me, searching for a single crack in my armor. For a long, breathless moment, the only sound in the room was his ragged breathing. The tension between us was a live wire, burning with a dangerous, unspoken chemistry. He wanted to hate me, but he was drowning in his own obsession.
"You're lying," he whispered, his voice suddenly cracking with a devastating wave of pain. He reached out, his large, warm hand hovering just inches away from my cheek, trembling. "Elena... please. If it's you... tell me."
seeing the raw vulnerability in the eyes of the man who had abandoned me nearly broke my resolve. But then I remembered the heavy metal of the handcuffs. I remembered his silence as I was dragged away.
I ruthlessly suppressed the pain in my heart and replaced it with pure fire.
"If you ever touch me, or call me by that criminal's name again, Mr. Vance, I will pack my bags, return to Paris, and let your family’s diamond empire crash and burn," I whispered, my voice dangerously calm. "Now, get out of my room."
Xavier’s hand dropped. The warmth in his eyes instantly froze over, replaced by a cold, dark fury. He straightened his shoulders, pulling his distant, arrogant billionaire mask back on.
"Tomorrow morning. Eight o'clock," he said, his voice entirely devoid of emotion now. "My driver will be downstairs. Do not be late, Miss Rose."
He turned on his heel and walked out, shutting the door behind him with a quiet, menacing click.
The moment he was gone, my legs gave out. I collapsed onto the edge of the sofa, my hands shaking uncontrollably as a cold sweat broke out across my skin. That was too close. He was already suspicious, and his mother would be hunting for answers by sunrise.
I looked down at the glass coffee table, and my heart completely stopped.
The heavy leather folder—the one containing my forged documents and the blueprints to destroy the Vance empire—was gone.
In its place was a sleek, black business card with gold lettering.
I picked it up with trembling fingers and turned it over. Written on the back in Xavier’s sharp, elegant handwriting were just five words:
I’m watching you, my ghost.
- Writer
