CHAPTER 4: There's Something You're Not Telling Me
556 Words
Damon Black did not dream.
He didn’t believe in emotions, in illusions, in ghosts of the past.
But tonight, something was wrong.
The night dragged on like a fever he couldn’t sweat out, and when sleep finally came… it brought her.
In the dream...
He was back in his old penthouse. Younger. Dumber. Reckless.
And she was there.
Arielle.
She wore one of his shirts, barefoot on the marble floor, spinning in lazy circles as music played. Her laughter echoed off the glass walls like sunlight in sound.
He was watching her. Smiling.
She turned to him and whispered, “Don’t forget me, Damon.”
His chest tightened.
“I could never,” he said.
She smiled—sad, knowing.
“Then why did you?”
He woke up with a start.
Breathless. Sweating.
His sheets tangled, his body aching with a longing that made no sense.
Why her? Why now?
He sat up, rubbing a hand through his hair.
And for the first time in five years…
He felt haunted.
At the office, he was a storm in a tailored suit.
Silent. Cold. Controlled.
Until she walked in.
And he nearly forgot how to breathe.
Arielle wore a burgundy blouse tucked into high-waisted black trousers, her lips painted like temptation. She moved like a secret—quiet, deadly, beautiful.
“Good morning, sir,” she said calmly.
He didn’t respond.
He just stared at her like a man who had questions no one could answer.
When she stepped out to take a call, Damon buzzed Noah.
“Bring me her file.”
Minutes later, a thick manila folder landed on his desk.
He opened it.
Read.
And frowned.
Graduated top of her class. No red flags.
But…
There was a missing year.
2019–2020: No job history. No address. No paper trail.
That was the year she disappeared.
The year he lost everything.
A knock.
He looked up. “Enter.”
Arielle stepped inside.
“There’s a board meeting in thirty. I’ve printed all the reports.”
He nodded, eyes unreadable.
She turned to leave.
“Wait.”
She stopped.
“Where were you in 2019?”
Her shoulders stiffened.
She turned slowly. “Excuse me?”
“You disappeared. No address. No employment. It’s not in your file.”
“I took a break from working.”
He stood.
“A whole year?”
“I had personal matters to handle.”
He walked toward her—slow, calculating.
“Such as?”
She met his eyes. “That’s none of your business.”
The room thickened with silence.
Damon stepped so close, she could feel his breath.
“Everything about you is my business now.”
Her chest rose sharply.
“Be careful, Mr. Black,” she whispered. “You’re sounding possessive.”
He stared at her like she was a puzzle that refused to solve itself.
Then, finally… he stepped back.
And smiled coldly.
“I’ll find out eventually, Arielle. I always do.”
That night, Arielle sat on the floor of Ezra’s room, watching him sleep.
She was slipping.
Damon was digging.
And soon…
The truth would catch up to her.
But what terrified her most wasn’t the lie.
It was the part of her that still wanted him to remember.
To remember everything.
Even if it destroyed them both.
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