CH2
1066 Words
Adeline’s POV
I hear when he walks up the steps, the noise in his silence billowing behind him. The door to our bedroom swings open a minute later, and he waltzes in. Without saying a word, he saunters into the bathroom, the smell of sushi in his wake.
Angling my head in front of my vanity mirror, in my silk nightgown, I put my auburn hair away from my face, changing my mind about the perfection of leaving my hair out to bed, just the way Jason likes it.
He doesn’t even notice it anyway.
When I hear the shower running, I pick up my phone and open the browser. My finger hovers above the screen for a moment before I type “Private Investigators in New York.”
Hundreds of results spring up, but I don’t bother to go down the list, opening the first that comes highly recommended with a lot of stars.
SECRETS Investigations.
My eyes narrow as the irony of the name catches my attention. I have heard of it before. Felicia. Yes. A social media sensation. She posted about the company earlier today. I think it was something about her breaking up with the CEO and how he is just a cold bastard hiding behind a solid reputation.
Moving towards the bed, I get under the quilt and turn off the white lights.
Felicia.
I pull open my i********:, going through her feed. I am not one to follow celebrities on social media, but Felicia is different. She is because my husband, Jason, has been liking all her posts for a couple of months now, more aggressively since she became single.
I wonder if this is what he likes now. Artificial lashes, perfect makeup, perfect nails, dangerously short dresses… I wonder if he will panic if I start doing the same thing.
The name pops up again in one of her posts. SECRETS Investigations. I scroll through the website, noting that the founder’s name isn’t written on it.
It spurs my curiosity even further, so I make a mental note of the address, sliding my phone underneath the pillow just as Jason returns to the bedroom. He groans as he gets underneath the quilt too, as he pulls most of it to himself.
“Goodnight,” I whisper into the dark.
His response never comes. Just a deep breath as the arms of sleep embrace him. And then, I get out of bed, get dressed, and out of the house.
The rain lashes out at me as I walk out of the house, but I keep walking, without any destination in mind. I let go then, allowing the tears to stream down my face unhindered.
It hurts. Everything inside of me hurts.
I feel it in my chest, insistent, clawing. My body folds over from the intensity of the pain, and the rainwater blinds me. When I look up a moment later, I realize I am standing in front of the building from the website.
I walked all the way here.
The lights beyond the doors are on, a single silver glow barely moving past a spot. I take a step in that direction, halting when I see someone get on their feet, his shadow imposing.
Strong.
Dark hair comes into view, and I swallow. The pain moves to a dull thud as my eyes take in the stranger. He must have noticed someone staring from the glass doors, because his head jerks up in that instant.
A gasp falls from my lips, and I turn around at once, my feet scurrying away. I hear the doors open. The air feels different when he comes out.
“Miss?”
I don’t stop walking away, but one thing follows me back to bed.
The fact that the voice sounds too familiar.
Achingly familiar.
***
Rain threatens to pour out of the skies when I alight the cab, leaning in through the window to hand the driver his fare. Turning around, my heels click against the ground as I head towards the glass building with SECRET Investigations written in gold calligraphy just above the door.
It’s bigger than it looks on the website, bigger than it looked last night, with floors crawling from every angle and pristine rooms. The receptionist beams at me when I get into the lobby, her smile warm and polite.
“Good morning, ma’am,” she beams. “Welcome to SECRET Investigations. Do you have an appointment?”
“Yes,” I murmur, smoothing my already creaseless dress just for the need to get my hands working. I contemplate turning around, scared of what I will discover, that it will be what I already know. “It’s fine if I give you my name, right?”
She nods. “Confidentiality is one of the many things SECRETS prides itself on, so you can rest assured that nothing you say is going to get past these walls.”
“Adeline Hawthorne,” I breathe. “Ten am.”
The sound of her keyboard reverberates around the space, and a second later, her head comes back up, that smile still on her face. “Mr. Reed will see you now,” she says. “It is the last door on the fifth floor.”
I stop suddenly, the name echoing in my ears. “Mr Reed?”
“Our CEO,” the receptionist confirms. “He handles these issues himself. Do you want me to book someone else?”
I shake my head mechanically, but in truth, I am no longer in the room with her. It is impossible, right? A million and one people bear that name. It is common.
So why do I find it difficult getting into that elevator?
“Ma’am?”
“Sorry,” I whisper, forcing my legs to work.
The name means nothing to me. It’s just another stranger I am about to trust with the most sensitive part of my life. Not a big deal. I have never spoken to a professional before, so maybe that is what this is.
When I reach the fifth floor, I stand in front of the last door in the hallway for a full minute. Taking a deep breath, I lift my hand, poised above it to knock.
But the door pulls open before my fist ever gets to it.
And in that moment, the whole world stops.
- Writer
