Chapter 8 — Hidden Files
721 Words
Marina barely slept that night.
The shadows on her bedroom walls twisted like old memories—ones she couldn’t quite remember but still feared. Her body ached from the weight of unspoken truths, and every creak of the floorboards outside made her heart skip.
What if he came back?
What if Dominic Voss wouldn’t stop?
She sat up in bed and stared at the small locked drawer in her nightstand. She hadn’t opened it in eight years. Not since the hospital in West Virginia.
Not since they handed her the bag they found with her—burnt, torn, and containing only one item.
A flash drive.
She never plugged it in.
Until now.
The flash drive was hidden in the lining of an old makeup pouch. The metal was cold to the touch as she slid it into her laptop’s USB port. Her breath caught when the screen flickered.
Accessing...
One folder.
No name.
No password.
Just one video file.
Her fingers hovered over the touchpad.
Click.
The video was grainy, the camera tilted slightly like it had been hidden. A woman sat at a long mahogany table, dressed in a white dress. Her hair was tied back, her eyes wide and uncertain.
Marina leaned closer.
It was her.
Juliette.
Me.
Dominic’s voice came from offscreen.
“This is just protocol. Legal recording, nothing more.”
“I know,” Juliette said softly. “Three years. I play the part. I make you look good. Then we walk away.”
“With no strings.”
“No strings.”
Marina’s heart thudded in her chest.
“Unless,” Juliette added, lifting her chin, “I decide I want something else.”
“Like what?” Dominic’s voice was amused, low, indulgent.
“A kiss.”
The video ended.
That was it.
Three minutes of her old life.
But it unraveled everything she’d told herself for years. She hadn’t just woken up in a hospital with no past. Someone wanted her to forget. Someone hid this for a reason.
Why?
Across town, Dominic stared at the photograph Levi had just sent him.
A West Virginia hospital admission form.
Name: Jane Doe
Injuries: Severe trauma, memory loss
Date: Eight years ago, to the day.
Attached photo: Woman with bandaged face and shoulder scars.
It was her.
The cheekbones. The eyes.
Even buried under bruises, it was Juliette.
But the name wasn’t.
He scrolled through the next image—a staff report.
“Patient shows signs of trauma-induced amnesia. Claims no recollection of past events. No known relatives. Released to outpatient care three months after admittance.”
Dominic leaned back in his chair, stunned.
She wasn’t running from him.
She didn’t know she was running.
Until now.
The next day, the bookstore was quiet.
Marina sat at her desk, laptop open but forgotten. The video replayed in her head on a loop—her voice, the cold contract, the way she had looked at him.
Not just as an employee.
As a woman falling in love with a man who never truly saw her.
The door chimed.
She looked up—and froze.
Dominic stood there, again. This time, with something different in his eyes.
Not suspicion.
Not anger.
But a flicker of knowing.
“I know who you are,” he said softly, stepping closer.
“I told you—”
“You were in a hospital in Charleston. West Virginia. You had no ID, no memory. You were labeled Jane Doe. That was you, wasn’t it?”
She stood, panic rising. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He stepped closer.
“I think you were in an accident. I think you lost everything. And someone let you believe it was better to forget.”
She backed into the bookshelf behind her. “Why are you doing this?”
“Because I never forgot you. And now that I know you’re alive, I won’t walk away again.”
Her throat tightened. “You think I planned all of this?”
“I think someone did,” he said, his voice quiet but full of tension. “And I think we were both played.”
She stared at him, heart pounding.
Was he right?
Had this all been more than a faked death… more than a lie?
End of Chapter 8.
- Writer
