A Shadow in The study
1116 Words
Chapter Four
The next morning, I woke up before Damon. His arm was still around me, warm and heavy, but my heart was as cold as ice. I slipped out of bed quietly, careful not to wake him. Every little sound made my heart race, but I made it out of the room safely.
I padded down the marble stairs of the mansion in my bare feet. The house was silent. The ocean breeze swayed the curtains softly as I made my way toward the one room Damon always kept locked—his private study.
I had watched him enter the room many times. And once, I’d seen where he kept the key.
He always left it in a flower vase near the bookshelf when he came home from work. Maybe he didn’t expect anyone to look there. Maybe he thought I was too “innocent” to notice.
I wasn’t.
And today, I wasn’t just his bride.
I was his enemy.
I took the key, heart pounding, and slipped it into the lock.
Click.
The door opened.
His study smelled like leather and cologne. The curtains were half drawn, and a sleek computer sat on the large wooden desk. Shelves lined the walls—some filled with books, others with files. I stepped in slowly, like someone entering a lion’s den.
I didn’t have much time.
Damon could wake up any minute.
I pulled open drawers one by one, my fingers shaking as I searched. Most of it looked normal—bank papers, company documents, travel schedules.
But then, at the bottom of a locked file drawer, I found something strange.
An old brown folder labeled: **A.F.**
My father’s initials.
My breath caught in my throat.
I opened it slowly—and saw a photo.
It was my father, standing with Damon and a few other men, all dressed in suits. Behind them was a building marked **“Steele Tech Headquarters – 2016.”**
My hands trembled.
He knew my father?
They worked together?
Then why did Damon act like he had never heard of my family when I asked?
I flipped to the next page. It was a contract. My father’s name was clearly printed—**Albert Ford**—alongside Damon Steele’s signature. The date was almost ten years ago.
My head spun. My father had once been part of Damon’s company?
I was still trying to understand it when a sound behind me made my heart stop.
The door creaked.
I froze.
Footsteps.
Oh no.
I quickly stuffed the folder back into the drawer, closed it, and turned around.
Damon was standing there.
He was shirtless, his eyes half-awake, hair messy from sleep. But his face was serious.
“What are you doing in here?” he asked, voice low and calm—but with a warning edge.
My mouth opened and closed. I tried to think fast.
“I… I got lost looking for the laundry room,” I said, trying to smile.
He raised a brow. “With the key to my locked study in your hand?”
I looked down.
The key was still in my fingers.
I cursed myself inside.
Think, Alina. Think.
“I… I saw the room was open,” I lied. “I didn’t know it was your study. I was just curious.”
He stepped forward. “Curious, huh?”
I backed up slightly.
He was looking at me differently now.
Not with warmth.
Not with love.
But like someone looking at a stranger.
He walked past me, glanced at his desk, then looked at the locked drawer. “Did you touch anything?”
I shook my head. “No.”
He stared at me for a long second.
Then, without a word, he closed the door behind him and locked it again.
The key went back into his pocket.
“You shouldn’t come in here again,” he said.
“I understand,” I whispered.
He looked at me for a while longer before finally walking away.
As soon as he was out of sight, I leaned against the wall, heart racing.
He was hiding something.
That folder… the photo… the contract…
There was more to my father’s story than I knew.
And Damon had the answers.
I just had to survive long enough to get them.
***
Later that day, we went out for a boat ride.
Damon acted like nothing happened.
He smiled, held my hand, even fed me strawberries. We passed small islands and watched dolphins jump in the distance.
Anyone looking at us would think we were the perfect couple.
But I couldn’t enjoy it.
My thoughts kept returning to that photo of my father. Why had Damon never mentioned knowing him? Why pretend?
And most of all—if they worked together, **why would Damon want him dead?**
Unless…
Unless someone else had a reason.
Someone who wanted my father gone—and framed Damon.
Could I have been wrong this whole time?
No, I told myself.
Stay focused.
He still lied.
And lies don’t come from innocent men.
***
That night, I sat by the balcony, watching the waves. The stars were out, but my heart was restless. I held my father’s old watch in my hand. It was the only thing I had left of him.
Tears fell quietly.
But then I wiped them away.
“Brave ladies don’t cry,” I whispered to myself.
They fight.
I turned to go inside.
And froze.
Vanessa was back.
She was standing in the living room, facing Damon.
I ducked slightly behind the doorframe and listened.
“What are you doing here again?” Damon asked, voice low.
“We need to talk,” Vanessa said sharply.
“There’s nothing to talk about.”
“You still love me,” she said. “I know you do. I saw it in your eyes. This marriage is fake.”
My breath caught.
Fake?
What did she mean?
Damon’s voice was hard. “You’re wrong.”
“Am I?” she challenged. “Then tell your little wife who Albert Ford really was.”
I gasped silently.
She knew my father?
She knew the truth?
Before I could move or say anything, Damon grabbed Vanessa’s arm and pulled her toward the door. “Leave, Vanessa. Now.”
“I’m not scared of your secrets, Damon,” she spat. “One day, she’ll find out everything.”
And with that, she stormed out.
I rushed back to the balcony, pretending I hadn’t seen anything.
But my heart was racing faster than ever.
Vanessa knew something.
And now I was sure—
There were secrets Damon would kill to keep hidden.
- Writer
