chapter 8
1201 Words
Chapter 8: Confrontation
Dinner was served in the dining room at eight. Crystal, silver, and silence.
Nora sat across from Adrian, a plate of food she couldn’t taste in front of her. She kept her expression neutral, her hands steady around the wine glass. Inside, her chest was tight, burning. The manila envelope was tucked under her mattress, but it might as well have been branded into her skin.
Adrian didn’t speak. He ate like he always did—controlled, precise. His eyes, though, were on her. Sharp.
Halfway through the meal, he set his fork down.
“You were in my study today.”
Nora froze. The wine nearly slipped from her fingers.
“How—” She cut herself off. “How did you know?”
Adrian didn’t blink. “This is my house, Nora. Nothing happens here that I don’t know about.”
Her pulse spiked. She forced herself to meet his gaze. “You locked me out of the black door but you leave your study open. Convenient.”
“Know your limits.” Adrian said quietly. “Some things are better left unknown.”
Nora’s composure cracked. “Like what? Like the fact that my father worked for you?” She leaned forward. “Like the fact that Elias Hale disappeared after working for Voss Holdings? What do you know about it, Adrian?”
Adrian stood. The chair scraped against the marble floor. He didn’t answer. He just reached for his napkin, wiped his mouth, and turned to leave.
Nora shot up from her seat. “I’m asking you!” Her voice echoed off the high ceilings. “What did you do to him? Where is he?”
Adrian stopped but didn’t turn around. His voice was cold, clipped. “Don’t push me, Nora.”
She didn’t care anymore. “You brought me here. You made me your wife. You don’t get to shut me out now.”
He didn’t respond. He walked out, leaving her standing alone with the untouched dinner and the silence that felt heavier than before.
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Nora didn’t sleep.
At 2:17 a.m. she gave up pretending and slipped out of her room. The penthouse was dark except for the faint city lights spilling through the floor-to-ceiling windows.
Then she heard it—the soft click of metal.
She turned the corner and stopped dead.
Adrian was coming out of the black door.
He locked it, turned the key once, and slid it into his pocket. His shirt was rumpled, his tie loosened, and there was the unmistakable scent of whiskey on him. He looked unsteady on his feet. Drunk.
Nora’s breath caught. “What’s behind that door, Adrian?”
He looked up at her. His eyes were glassy, but still guarded. For a long moment he just stared, like he was trying to decide whether she was real or a ghost.
Adrian’s jaw tightened. He took a step toward her, then stopped himself.
“Go back to bed, Nora. Before I say something I shouldn’t.”
He brushed past her and disappeared down the hall, leaving Nora standing in the dark.
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The next morning, Nora couldn’t sit still. She needed someone outside of Voss Holdings. Someone who didn’t owe Adrian a damn thing.
Eva.
Her old friend from college, now a private investigator. If anyone could dig into Elias Hale’s disappearance without getting flagged by Voss security, it was her.
The problem was getting out. Voss Tower was a fortress. Guards on every floor, biometric elevators, and Ryker who seemed to know her movements before she did.
Nora waited until 1 p.m., when the shift change usually distracted the lobby staff. She put on a plain black dress, pulled her hair up, and kept her head down. The elevator to the underground garage didn’t require a scan if you already had access. She did. Adrian had given her a card “for emergencies.” She used it now.
The garage was cold and echoing. Cameras everywhere. But Maya was smart.
Nora spotted her old silver Honda parked in the far corner, lights off. Maya sat in the driver’s seat, window down, sunglasses on.
“Took you long enough,” Maya muttered as Nora slid into the passenger seat. “Your guards are jumpy.”
Nora didn’t answer. She just shut the door and whispered, “Drive.”
Maya pulled out without a word, tires silent on the concrete. They didn’t speak until they were three blocks away and Nora was sure they weren’t being followed.
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Back in the penthouse, Ryker’s voice was low but urgent on the phone.
“She’s gone. Left through the garage. One of the drivers saw her get into a car.”
Adrian didn’t answer immediately. He was standing by the floor-to-ceiling windows, whiskey in hand. The city sprawled beneath him, but his eyes weren’t on it. They were dark.
“Find her,” he said finally.
Ryker hesitated. “Sir, if she’s meeting someone—”
“Find her. Now.”
Adrian’s grip tightened around the glass. He didn’t throw it. Not at first. Then he slammed it against the wall. Glass shattered. Amber liquid ran down the white marble like blood.
“Find her and bring her back,” Adrian said, voice cold enough to cut.
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Twenty minutes later, Maya’s Honda pulled up to a secluded, dimly lit café on the outskirts of the city. Nora hurried inside, her heart hammering against her ribs.
Eva was already waiting in a corner booth, dressed in a sharp blazer, a laptop open in front of her. She looked up as Nora slid across from her, pulling the folded, redacted employment contract from beneath her jacket.
"Eva, I don't have much time," Nora whispered urgently, sliding the manila envelope across the table. "My father didn't just vanish in 2018. He was working for Voss Holdings under a classified contract, and Adrian Voss completely buried his file. I need to know what happened to him."
Eva scanned the redacted pages, her expression hardening. "This is heavy corporate censorship, Nora. Shaking down a man like Adrian Voss is suicidal. But... I owe you. Give me forty-eight hours. I'll trace the unredacted location coordinates from the company's 2018 travel logs."
Eva closed her laptop, tucked the document securely into her briefcase, and slid out of the booth, slipping out through the café's side exit into the afternoon rain.
Nora exhaled a trembling breath, staring down at her lukewarm coffee. The first step was taken. She had her leverage.
Suddenly, the little bell above the café's front door chimed.
A sudden chill swept through the small room. Nora didn't lift her head, assuming it was just another patron. But the heavy click of designer heels walked directly toward her booth, stopping dead right at the edge of her table.
"You look remarkably comfortable sitting in a chair that belongs to me," a smooth, venomous voice purred.
Nora’s blood ran completely cold. She slowly lifted her head.
Standing before her, dripping in couture silk and flashing a lethal, mocking smile, was the exact woman from the wedding portrait. A woman who looked identical to her, yet radiating pure, aristocratic malice.
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