CHAPTER THREE:THE MAN IN THE SHADOWS
760 Words
Continuation of Zara’s POV
I stood up, and for a second, I thought I was hallucinating. Maybe the lack of sleep was finally getting to me. I rubbed my eyes, thinking everything would go back to normal, or maybe I was dreaming, but when I looked again, Damian Vale still stood there like death had simply failed him.
He didn’t move, didn’t speak. He just stood there, half hidden in the shadows, while the funeral carried on behind me like nothing was wrong.
Damian turned calmly and walked away without speaking. Immediately he left, a worker said something unsettling.
“This way, Miss Zara Bello.”
I was shocked. How the hell does he know my name?
I stood up slowly and followed him to the parking lot.
⸻
DAMIAN’S POV
I watched her hesitate before stepping into the hallway. It was surprising. Most people feared dead men, but I guess curiosity always won with people like Zara Bello.
She looked exactly the way I remembered—defiant, reckless, completely unaware of how dangerous curiosity could be.
I walked toward my car and got in, and she followed suit. The silence between us stretched.
“Let’s go,” I told my driver.
I could practically feel the questions burning inside her head.
We got to my private hideout. I stepped out of the car and began walking toward my private elevator. I could hear her footsteps behind me. Slow. Careful. Hesitant.
Good.
Fear meant she understood this situation wasn’t normal.
The elevator doors slid open. I stepped inside but noticed she didn’t move immediately. For a second, I thought she would turn back, but then she walked beside me.
“Interesting.”
The doors closed quietly. The moment we were alone, she turned toward me sharply.
“You’re supposed to be dead.”
Her voice was low, angry, and confused.
I glanced at her briefly.
“And yet,” I replied calmly, “here I am.”
Her eyes narrowed instantly.
“What kind of sick joke is this?”
“A necessary one,” I said.
“You invited me to your funeral before the news even became public,” she said. “How is that possible?”
I remained silent for a moment. A few seconds passed.
“You wrote an interesting article about my family, Miss Bello,” I said instead.
Her expression changed slightly. Her eyes widened.
There it was.
The moment she realized this wasn’t random.
“You know who I am?”
I smirked.
“I know more about you than you realize.”
The elevator opened. I stepped out first. Then I looked back at her.
“Someone inside my empire tried to kill me,” I said quietly.
A pause.
“And I believe you’re connected to the reason why”.
⸻
ZARA’S POV
The elevator opened into a long private hallway. Cold lighting reflected against the marble floors, making everything look too polished to feel real.
I stepped out slowly, trying not to show how uncomfortable I suddenly felt.
Damian loosened the cuff of his sleeve calmly.
“Relax,” he said without looking at me.
Relax?
People thought this man was dead.
Damian removed his watch and placed it carefully on the table like tonight was normal. Like attending his own funeral had simply been another meeting on his schedule.
“People think you’re dead,” I said carefully.
“That tends to happen after funerals,” he replied smoothly.
I stared at him.
“How are you this calm?”
He ignored the question completely.
“You’re shaking,” he said quietly instead.
I immediately looked down at my hands.
Damn it.
They were trembling.
I clenched them into fists instantly.
“You invited me here.”
“No,” Damian corrected calmly. “I summoned you.”
Something about the way he said it made my stomach tighten.
Without another word, he turned on the television.
Every channel carried the same headline.
DEAD BILLIONAIRE DAMIAN VALE CONFIRMED DEAD.
The room filled with the sound of reporters discussing the tragedy of a man who was currently standing a few feet away from me.
Damian watched his own death announcement without expression.
No anger.
No panic.
Nothing.
“You learn interesting things when people believe you’re a corpse,” he said quietly. “Death simplifies loyalty.”
Then he finally turned toward me fully, his expression harder now. More serious.
“Tell me, Miss Bello,” he said softly, “how much do you know about your father?”
- Writer
