Chapter8
1327 Words
Ghosts of the Past
The estate was quiet, cloaked in the gentle hush of early morning. Outside, a soft drizzle glazed the stone pathways, and mist curled along the treetops. Inside the study, Dominic sat alone, the soft tick of the antique clock behind him the only sound breaking the silence.
He hadn’t slept.
Not because of work—though the company’s investors circled like hawks. Not because of the house—though his instincts told him something was changing. No, what had kept him awake were memories. The kind that clung to the edges of silence. The kind that returns every year without mercy.
Today marked three years since Nathaniel died.
His younger brother. His opposite in every way. His heart.
Dominic leaned back in his chair and stared at the glass of untouched whiskey in front of him. He wasn’t sure why he’d poured it. Maybe he wanted to feel the burn. Maybe he wanted to remember what it was like to feel anything.
He reached for the drink and took a slow sip, letting it warm his throat before setting it back down with a dull clink.
His eyes drifted toward the window. The fog blurred the view of the estate’s southern garden. A new staff member—maybe Leah—moved across the lawn with a basket of fresh linens. He couldn’t tell from here. But the sight of a figure in motion stirred something unsteady in his chest.
Leah Brooks.
The name had meant nothing when Jess first handed him the file.
But then she’d walked into the house. Quiet. Composed. Familiar.
She hadn’t recognized him. At least, she didn’t show it. And Dominic had said nothing. He didn’t even know for sure if it was her—not until a few weeks into her employment when the memories began to click into place.
It had been three years ago, in Raleigh. He’d been in town briefly, meeting with a local partner on a last-minute deal. It was supposed to be a quick trip. No distractions. No drama.
Then he’d wandered into that bar.
And there she was.
He never got her name. She never asked for his. They’d connected over something unspoken, something raw. It had lasted only one night. One hour, really. Then they’d both vanished back into their separate worlds.
At least, that’s what he thought.
Until Leah showed up here.
And now, even with the fog outside and the weight of the day pressing down, her presence in the house filled his thoughts in ways he couldn’t explain.
Dominic dragged a hand over his face. He needed to focus. He had calls scheduled for later contracts to review. And yet, his mind tugged backwards—to that final conversation with Nathaniel just days before the accident.
“I don’t want your empire, Dom,” Nate had said, pacing through his apartment barefoot, half a sandwich in one hand. “I just want you to live a little. Let go.”
Dominic laughed bitterly. “Some of us don’t have the luxury of wandering around chasing sunsets.”
“No,” Nate had said, with a shrug, “but you do have the choice to stop running from yourself.”
They hadn’t spoken again.
The car crash happened two days later. Nate had been on a road trip with friends through the Carolina mountains. A storm. A slippery road. A moment’s distraction.
Gone.
Just like that.
Dominic stood and crossed the room to a bookshelf where a worn leather journal rested between ledgers and awards. Nate’s journal. He pulled it free and opened it to the middle, where a folded letter was tucked between the pages.
He hadn’t read it in years.
Dom—
If you’re reading this, I’m probably off to a country with bad cell reception, or I did something stupid and didn’t make it back. Either way, you’re stuck with my last words. Sorry.
You’re probably rolling your eyes. But seriously, stop pretending like you don’t feel things. You’re human, Dom. You don’t always have to carry the world alone.
And if something—or someone—from your past shows up and shakes you? Don’t run. Look them in the eye. Face what you left behind.
Love you. Always.
—Nate
Dominic let the journal fall close, his eyes stinging though no tears fell. He couldn’t cry. That had been drilled out of him long ago.
But the ache—that stayed.
A knock at the door pulled him out of the moment.
Jess walked in, holding a slim folder and an expression he couldn’t quite read. Her heels clicked softly against the polished floor as she approached his desk.
“I had Marco look into Leah Brooks,” she said, sliding the folder toward him. “A deeper background check.”
Dominic stiffened. “Why?”
“Because something feels off. She’s very perfect. Too quiet. She stays out of sight, doesn’t engage with anyone, and never slips up. And then there’s this—” Jess tapped the folder. “She lived in Raleigh five years ago.”
His heart gave a quiet thump.
“So?”
“So,” Jess continued, “you were in Raleigh five years ago too." Around the exact time she was. She worked for a local catering company back then. It’s in the file. She vanished from that job shortly after a corporate gala you attended.”
Dominic opened the file slowly. The documentation was thorough. Employment records. Rental history. An old staff photo from the catering company. Leah was younger in it, her hair shorter, smile softer—but undeniably her.
“She left Raleigh a few weeks after that event,” Jess said. No explanation. Just packed up and disappeared.”
Dominic’s eyes didn’t move from the photo.
“She’s hiding something,” Jess added. I don’t know what. But I don’t like it.”
“She’s not a threat,” he murmured.
Jess raised a brow. “Then tell me what this is. "You recognize her, don’t you?”
He closed the file.
“It was one night,” he admitted, his voice low. A long time ago. I didn’t even know her name.”
Jess blinked. “Wait… that kind of night?”
Dominic looked away, jaw tight.
Jess sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “You have got to be kidding me.”
“It didn’t mean anything,” he said quickly. At least, I thought it didn’t. And she hasn’t said a word, Jess. Not one hint that she remembers.”
Jess folded her arms. “Do you think she’s here by coincidence?”
“I don’t know.”
Jess exhaled. “Fine. Let’s say it’s not a setup. That doesn’t explain why she left Raleigh so abruptly or why she’s clearly keeping her past close to her chest.”
There was a pause.
Then Jess added, more gently, “Dom… could there be a child?”
The question landed like a thunderclap.
Dominic’s thoughts reeled.
“No,” he said. “I mean… I don’t know." I never considered it.
Jess leaned on the desk. “You need to find out. If there’s something you missed—something that connects her to you in a deeper way—we need to know before this blows up.”
Dominic nodded faintly, though his pulse pounded in his ears.
Jess straightened. “I’m not trying to cause drama. I’m trying to protect you. And the company.”
“I know,” he murmured.
She gave him a long look before leaving the room.
Alone again, Dominic sat back, the weight of the past pressing in around him. The file sat open. Leah’s face stared up at him, frozen in time.
His brother’s words echoed in his mind.
Face what you left behind.
And now… maybe it wasn’t just a memory. Maybe the past had a name.
Maybe it had Leah’s eyes.
- Writer
