The Heiress Who Married Her Enemy

chapter 4

**IRINA'S POV**

4

Today was my parents’ death anniversary.

Every year, the date arrived with the same heaviness in my chest, as though I was taken back to that day, reminded of the lives that were taken from me. Sadly, that day was also the day I was born.

The white lilies in my hand were still fresh. My mouth hadn’t ceased with prayers as I came closer to the cemetery. But this year, it wasn’t only about mourning.

It was about answers.

Ever since the day I caught sight of Eric Rowlings and the necklace he wore, my thoughts hadn’t known peace.

The apple pendant I had was split in half down the center, the jeweler told me it was a single piece before it was separated. And now, that half seemed to be glinting against the chest of a man who shouldn’t have it.

The curiosity gnawed at me until it became unbearable. I had given in to the temptation of using means and power to run a background check on Eric. What I discovered nearly drove me mad.

His family and mine were once best friends. Their names had appeared side by side in photographs, society archives, and charity galas. They attended vacations together, parties, holidays. More than that, they lived in the same neighborhood, practically across the street from each other. Everyone knew. Everyone except me.

I was never around since I was born.

After my parents’ death, even after I got the necklace, I didn’t do anything until ten years ago. Of course I checked their mutual friends, but there were many. I didn’t even know who they were, so I dropped that angle of investigation and began to run checks on the pendant instead.

Maybe that was why the discovery burned me deeply. All this time, people had known what I should have been the first to know. And Eric Rowlings carried the proof around his neck.

I had promised myself I would get closer to him. I would take small walks—coffee here and there, a casual meet out. This was until I would be able to stand before him and ask—why did you have that necklace?

But the universe had decided to mock me on that.

Days stretched into weeks, until a full blown month passed. And Eric Rowlings vanished. Not even a single encounter with him, I hadn’t run into him by chance. Not a glimpse of him at the two social events I had attended since reclaiming my inheritance. The only thing that assured his existence was his personal assistant, who wasn’t ready to give answers to where Eric was.

It seemed Eric had swallowed himself up and disappeared from the earth.

And here I was, on the day of the year I couldn’t escape. I was standing on the brink of grief, with lilies clutched in my hand.

The car slowed as we neared the cemetery gates. I pulled my phone out and dialed my grandmother’s number.

She picked at the second ring. “Grandma,” I said when she answered, my voice tight in my throat. “Where are you?”

For someone who lost her only son, she was cheerful. She had me after all. “I am on my way, baby. You know these knees kill me as I grow older. Don’t rush me, please.”

I leaned back against the seat, eyes stinging with unshed tears. “I just… I didn’t want to be there alone this year.”

“You’ve never been alone, child,” she whispered. “I am here even though I am a little late, and your mama and papa are with you too.”

I swallowed hard. Her words were meant to comfort me, soothe me, but they only widened the hollow ache that was inside me.

“And… happy birthday to you, you are blessed.” She prayed.

I ended the call quickly, tucking the phone back into my bag, and nodded for the driver to continue.

Happy birthday? Hell, my birthday was a death day.

I stepped out of the car, the bouquet in my hand. The path to the graves was familiar even with yearly change around the area. I could even walk there if I was blindfolded.

But halfway down the lane, I froze.

Someone was already there.

I saw the back of a man kneeling beside my parents’ tombstones. His shoulders trembled as though breathing would take his life. From where I stood, I saw a bouquet of white roses with him.

I simply stood there, unable to move or speak. I suddenly felt like the intruder—as if I wasn’t supposed to be here at all. I felt I had interrupted a private moment that would never be mine.

“Hello?” I called, moving closer. My shoes were soundless with each step.

The person stiffened, but didn’t turn. Curiosity and restlessness fought to take control of me when I got close enough to see whoever it was.

The dark hair stood out, then the facial features. I had seen it; I had spent almost every night studying the lines that defined this person’s face. I had been obsessed with knowing where he was, what he had done, what he was doing, what he would do.

Eric Rowling.

Then he turned, tears streaked down his cheeks, raw and unhinged. His eyes were red and puffy. His eyes met mine, wide with shock. He wasn’t expecting the person who said “hello” to be me.

The pendant flashed faintly against his chest. I wore mine, but had tucked it tightly under my black turtle neck gown.

My breath caught. My grip on the lilies trembled. “Eric…?” I whispered.

His throat bobbed as he swallowed past the lump in his throat. He looked at me as though I were a ghost. His eyes held answers I fought to demand from him at that point.

And at that moment, I realized this wasn’t just a coincidence.

There was a reason he was here.

But before I could speak, he pushed me out of his way and ran.

“Eric!” I called, running after him.