CHAPTER 4:Secrets
1075 Words
The ride to Killian’s estate was silent. The kind of silence that didn’t invite small talk, the kind that pressed against your chest until you had to swallow just to breathe. The city lights faded into a long, winding road flanked by tall, shadowy trees, their branches clawing toward the car like skeletal hands.
When the house finally came into view, it wasn’t a house at all.
It was a fortress.
Tall iron gates opened slowly, revealing sprawling stone walls, high glass windows, and a roofline that seemed to cut into the night sky. Warm light spilled from the windows, but it didn’t feel welcoming—it felt staged.
The car rolled to a stop in front of a grand entrance, where two men in black suits stood at attention. One opened my door before I could reach for the handle.
“Madam,” he said with a small bow. His tone was polite, but his eyes were blank.
Inside, the marble floor gleamed like still water under the chandeliers. The air was faintly scented with something expensive—cedarwood, maybe—but cold all the same.
A small group of staff stood in a neat line against the wall, all dressed in matching uniforms. They greeted me in unison with a “Welcome, Madam Celeste,” as though they were welcoming a VIP guest to a hotel, not someone who had just been shoved into a stranger’s marriage.
It didn’t feel like I’d arrived home.
It felt like I’d been acquired.
Killian wasn’t there to meet me.
The head butler—tall, thin, silver hair combed to perfection—stepped forward. “Your room is prepared, Madam. Mr. Killian requests you join him for dinner in thirty minutes.”
Requests. Right.
I followed a maid up the sweeping staircase, past hallways that smelled faintly of polish and old secrets. My room was at the far end—a vast space with floor-to-ceiling windows and a bed so large it looked like it could swallow me whole.
I didn’t bother unpacking. I just sat on the edge of the bed until a soft knock came at the door.
“Dinner is ready,” the maid announced.
---
The dining room was something out of a magazine—long mahogany table, crystal glasses catching the light, candles burning low. But only two places were set, one at each end of the table.
Killian sat at the far end, dark suit jacket unbuttoned, sleeves rolled just enough to reveal the veins in his forearms. He looked up briefly when I entered, his gaze unreadable.
“Celeste,” he said simply, gesturing toward the chair opposite him.
I took my seat. The clink of cutlery and the faint crackle of candle flames filled the silence.
We ate in near silence for several minutes—grilled salmon, roasted vegetables, something green I didn’t recognize. It could’ve been cardboard for all I tasted.
Halfway through, he finally spoke.
“Did she say anything to you before she left?”
The question landed like a stone in water—quiet but heavy.
I set my fork down, pretending to think. “No. I found a note. That’s all.”
His eyes stayed on me longer than was comfortable, as if searching for cracks in the lie.
“Nothing at all?”
I kept my tone steady. “Nothing that would explain this.”
He leaned back slightly, one hand resting loosely on his glass. “Interesting.”
The word could have meant anything.
We finished the meal without another word. When I rose to leave, his voice stopped me.
“Celeste.”
I turned.
“You should sleep. It’s been… a long day.”
Not our long day. Not this long day. Just a long day.
I nodded and left, but the unease in my stomach only deepened.
---
Sleep never came.
The bed was too big, the room too quiet, the weight of the day pressing down until my chest ached.
At some point, I gave up. I slipped on a robe and padded barefoot into the hall, letting instinct guide me. The house was still, except for the faint hum of heating vents and the occasional groan of old wood.
I turned a corner and stopped.
A sliver of light glowed beneath a heavy wooden door. The study.
I stepped closer, my bare toes sinking into the thick carpet. My hand hovered over the doorknob—locked.
Then I heard it.
Killian’s voice. Low. Controlled.
“Yes… I know where they are. Don’t move yet. I’ll handle her.”
Her.
My stomach tightened. Did he mean Vanessa? Or… me? Or someone else entirely?
I was still holding my breath when another voice spoke from inside. It was deep, but not Killian’s—smooth, almost mocking.
“She pities her sister,” the voice said. “But she doesn’t know her sister has betrayed her.”
I froze.
Betrayed me?
The words slid into my head like ice water, but before I could process them, a chair scraped against the floor.
Panic gripped me. I stepped back—too fast—my heel catching on the carpet. My shoulder brushed the wall, and the light from under the door flickered briefly as someone moved closer to it.
I turned and hurried back down the hall, forcing myself not to run, every step echoing louder than it should.
By the time I reached my room, my heart was slamming against my ribs. I leaned against the door, pressing my palms flat to the wood as if I could keep the world out.
Betrayed me?
The thought looped in my mind, gnawing at the edges of everything I thought I knew.
---
I don’t know how long I sat there, staring into the dark, before the buzz jolted me.
A phone.
But it wasn’t mine.
On the nightstand, a sleek black phone I’d never seen before lit up with a single message on the lock screen:
She’s starting to suspect. Keep her close.
My skin prickled.
Before I could even think to check where it had come from, footsteps sounded outside my door. Heavy. Steady.
The handle turned.
I snatched the phone, shoving it under the blanket just as the door opened.
Killian stood in the doorway. His gaze swept the room before settling on me. Then, without a word, he stepped inside and closed the door—locking it behind him.
- Writer
