Chapter3
948 Words
The silence inside the car was unbearable, and no one broke it. The city lights blurred past the tinted windows as the vehicle cut through the evening traffic.
Damon sat in the backseat.
Motionless, with his gaze fixed on nothing.
For the first time in years, his thoughts were a mess. John, his personal assistant glanced at him through the rearview mirror.
Then quickly looked away. He had worked for Damon King for almost eight years.
He had seen him angry.
Cold.
Merciless.
He had seen him destroy companies without blinking.
But he had never seen him like this.
Shaken.
John swallowed.
"Sir..."
No response.
The silence stretched.
"Sir, about that woman..."
Damon's eyes slowly lifted.
One glance.
That was all.
John instantly regretted opening his mouth.
Yet the question refused to leave him.
"...she looks exactly like Madam."
The words settled heavily inside the car, it was an uncomfortable topic. Outside, rainwater reflected the city lights.
Inside, the temperature seemed to drop. Damon looked away first.
"Don't."
One word.
Sharp.
Dangerous.
John immediately shut his mouth.
But neither of them could erase the image from their minds.
Janet Rosefield.
The woman from that neighborhood. The woman with Clarissa's face. Almost identical to his dead ex-wife.
Damon closed his eyes.
Seven years.
Seven years since Clarissa's death.
Seven years since he buried her.
Seven years since he convinced himself he no longer cared.
And yet,
One look.
One single look.
And everything he had spent years suppressing came rushing back. It was like as if everything about her were plastered in his mind, and he couldn't breathe.
The way she stood.
The way she frowned.
The way she glared at his employee.
The way she protected the boy.
His jaw tightened.
No.
It couldn't be.
Clarissa was dead.
He had identified the body himself. The funeral happened. The burial happened. The entire country knew it happened.
So why had it felt like he was staring directly at her?
His hand clenched into a fist, then another thought surfaced. One that bothered him even more.
She hadn't recognized him.
Not even for a second. He looked into her ocean blue eyes. There had been confusion in there,fear, suspicion. But recognition?
Nothing.
As though he were a complete stranger.
John glanced at his boss through the mirror.
"Sir...?"
Damon opened his eyes.
"What's it?"
"What if it's really is Madam?"
There was an huge silence in the car, a very dangerous one. Then Damon laughed.
A humorless sound.
"Clarissa would never live in a place like that."
The way he said it, he wasn't guessing, he was sure of his wife. His gaze darkened.
"She hated poverty."
Damon looked away, But the words felt hollow.
Because for the first time in seven years...He wasn't certain of anything anymore.
His phone vibrated.
Damon opened his eyes instantly.
His eyes darted to it, it was the private investigator.
He answered immediately.
"Speak."
"Sir."
The man's voice sounded hesitant.
Damon hated hesitation.
"What?"
"We found information on Janet Rosefield."
Damon straightened slightly. For the first time since leaving that neighborhood, something other than Clarissa occupied his mind.
"Continue."
A pause.
Then:
"There's a problem."
Damon's gaze darkened. His hazel eyes turned a darker shade. "What problem?"
"Everything says she's Janet Rosefield."
Silence.
The investigator continued.
"The people in her neighborhood say she's lived there for years."
Damon listened quietly.
"Everyone knows her."
"Everyone says she's the daughter of a poor man who died a long time ago."
Another pause.
John's grip tightened on the steering wheel.
Damon's expression remained unreadable.
"And?"
The investigator exhaled.
"There's more."
Damon's eyes narrowed. He hated suspense. "What?"
"We searched the records surrounding Clarissa King's death."
For the first time, Damon froze. The investigator continued carefully.
"Sir..."
A long pause.
Then:
"There are inconsistencies."
The car suddenly fell silent. Damon's heartbeat slowed Dangerously slow.
"What inconsistencies?"
"The death records don't match."
John almost slammed on the brakes. Damon's eyes darkened. The investigator spoke again.
"The body was identified through personal effects."
Silence.
"No DNA confirmation was ever completed."
For the first time in seven years.
Damon King felt something very close to hope.
And it terrified him.
The feeling felt foreign, if anything more dangerous and he hated it.
The investigator was breaking through his thoughts.
"Sir?"
Damon muttered, his expression hardened slightly.
"Keep searching."
"Yes, sir."
"I want everything on Janet Rosefield. Every single thing you can get, and I mean it."
The investigator hesitated, his voice stuttering on the other end.
"Do... Do you believe she could be—"
The line went dead. Damon had ended the call.
John had wanted to say something all along, but once he saw the cold gaze in Damon's eyes, he kept quiet again.
For several minutes, nobody spoke.
Finally, Damon was the one to break the silence.
"The boy."
John glanced at him through the mirror. "Sir?"
"The DNA test."
John blinked. "You want confirmation?"
Damon's gaze remained fixed on the window.
"I don't make decisions based on assumptions."
John nodded immediately. "Understood."
Then silence returned back to the car, the atmosphere was as quiet as it had been all these years. But Damon wasn't thinking about the DNA test.
He wasn't thinking about Janet's background.
He wasn't even thinking about Clarissa.
He was thinking about the way Janet had looked at the boy.
Protective.
Fierce.
Like a mother protecting her child.
His jaw tightened.
Nobody had ever looked at Jack like that.
Not even Clarissa.
The thought disturbed him more than it should have.
Slowly, he closed his eyes.
Tomorrow.
He would see Janet Rosefield again.
And this time, they were going to have a good talk.
- Writer
