Chapter 4
1526 Words
The Man Who Died
Elana's POV
I knew that face. Not from photographs, not even from newspapers. But from the darkest night of my life.
I looked at the man standing in front of me.
The mask was gone, so were my doubts. Those eyes, that jaw and that voice. It's all I remembered.
“Paris,” I whispered.
Silas Sterling didn't move. For one terrifying second, his face gave nothing away.
“You know me.”
It wasn't a question. I stepped back.
“No.”
“You just said Paris.”
“I said nothing.”
“You did.”
My fingers curled around the edge of my dress.
I couldn't breathe. Three years, three years since I had woken up in a Paris hotel room beside a stranger. Three years since I had left before sunrise. Three years since I discovered I was pregnant.
And now that stranger was standing right in front of me. My contract husband. The billionaire I had been forced to marry. The man everyone called the Faceless Tyrant.
But there was something wrong. The scars were real. The mask hadn't been hiding a monster. But it had been hiding the man I remembered.
Silas stepped closer. I stepped backward.
“You're him.”
“Who?”
“The man in Paris.”
He was still silent. Then he laughed, a humorless one. “You're mistaken.”
“No.”
“You've never seen my face before tonight.”
“I have.”
His eyes changed, only for a second. But I saw it. I saw fear. Silas Sterling was afraid.
But before I could speak, the bedroom door opened.
Adrian Cross stood there. His eyes moved from me to Silas. Then to the mask lying on the table. His face went pale.
“Sir.”
Silas didn't look at him.
“Leave, now.”
Adrian hesitated. “But—”
“I said now.”
He left. The door closed, and Silas turned back to me. “You will forget what you saw tonight.”
My stomach twisted. “Why?”
“Because it's safer.”
“For whom?”
“For you.”
I almost laughed. “I'm already trapped in your house. I'm married to a man I don't know. My stepmother is trying to take everything my father owns. And now you're telling me the man I spent one night with in Paris is standing in front of me.”
“You shouldn't have come to Paris.”
“You were there?”
“Yes.”
“You knew who I was?”
“No.”
“Then why did you lie?”
“I didn't.”
“You just told me I was mistaken.”
“You are.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
He stepped closer. “Three years ago, the man you met in Paris died.”
“What the f**k are you saying?”
Silas looked away. “The man you remember is dead.” I shook my head.
“No.”
“He died in an accident.”
“The scars…”
“Are from that accident.”
Silas's voice dropped. “Stop looking for a ghost, Elara.”
“Then why do I remember your eyes?”
“And why do you remember mine?” I whispered.
That was my answer, he remembered. Before either of us could speak, someone knocked. Silas immediately put his mask back on.
“Come in.”
The door opened, a servant stood outside.
“Mr. Sterling, Mrs. Vale is here.”
What, Victoria?
“What does she want?” I asked.
“You'll find out.”
I found Victoria in the drawing room twenty minutes later. She was sitting comfortably. Like she owned the mansion, like she owned me. And like she hadn't sold me into this marriage.
She smiled when I entered. “Elara.” I didn't answer. Her eyes moved over my dress.
“You look happier than I expected.”
“I don't.”
“Give it time.”
I sat across from her. “What are you doing here?”
“Checking on my daughter.”
“You've never called me that.”
Her smile disappeared. “Careful.” I moved closer. “Did you know Silas was the man from Paris?”
For the first time, Victoria looked nervous, only for a second. Then she recovered.
“I don't know what you're talking about.”
Oh, she's still lying.
“Did you?”
“No.”
She stood. “You're tired. This marriage is overwhelming you.” “Why did you really make me marry him?”
She picked up her handbag. “To save your father.”
“That isn't the whole truth.”
“It is enough.”
She walked to the door. I followed. “Victoria.” She stopped. “You said Father would die if I refused.”
“Yes.”
“Was that true?”
She turned. “Ask Silas.”
“What does that mean?” I asked.
She smiled. “You married the wrong man for the right reason.” Then she left.
I stood there frozen. Wrong man? Right reason? What did she mean?
My phone vibrated. Unknown number again. I opened the message. It reads: “Don't trust Silas Sterling.”
Another message appeared. “He didn't survive the Paris accident.” I felt like crying, my body got weak.
Then a photograph loaded. When I opened it, it showed Silas. Three years earlier. Standing outside a Paris hotel. Alive.
My hands began to shake. A third message appeared. “Ask him who was in the car when it exploded.” I looked at the hallway. Silas was standing there, watching me. His eyes went directly to my phone.
“Who sent that?”
I didn't answer. He walked closer to me.
“Give me the phone.” He ordered. I stepped back.
“No.”
“Elara.”
“Who was in the car?” I asked.
He stopped, and went silent. “Answer me.”
His face became unreadable. “You don't want to know.”
“I do.”
“You think you do.”
“Who was in the car, Silas?”
He looked away. Then he said something that made my blood turn to ice.
“My brother.”
“What? You have a brother?”
“Had.”
I couldn't speak. Silas removed his mask again. “My brother died that night.” The room seemed to tilt. “Then who did I meet in Paris?”
“I don't know, Elana.”
“You're lying, don't you?”
“I wish I were.”
“Three years ago, I went to Paris to meet someone who had stolen millions from my company.”
“Who?”
“My brother.”
“Your brother was betraying you?”
“Yes.”
“And the accident?”
“It wasn't an accident.”
My heart pounded. “Then what was it?”
Silas looked at the photograph in my hand.
“Someone wanted both of us dead.”
“Both?”
“You and me.”
I stopped breathing. “Why me?” He didn't answer. “Why would anyone want me dead?”
Silas reached for my phone. This time, I let him take it. He stared at the photograph, then his face changed.
“What?”
He turned the screen to me. There was a detail I hadn't noticed. A man stood behind Silas and his brother. Half-hidden, but I recognized him.
My father's former lawyer. The man Victoria had claimed died six months before my father's illness began.
“I know him, he worked for my father.”
“I know.”
My heart sank. “How?”
“Because he was the reason I went to Paris.”
The room went silent. Silas stepped closer.
“Elara, your family didn't lose its fortune because your father made bad investments.”
“What are you saying?”
He lowered his voice. “Your father was betrayed.”
“By whom?”
Silas looked at the closed door, and then back at me. “By the same person who caused my accident.”
“Who?” I asked, looking more confused.
His phone rang. He answered and whispered: “Speak.”
“She's awake?”
“Who is?”
Silas slowly lowered the phone down.
“My doctor.”
“What about him?”
“He just found your father's medical records.”
“And?”
“Your father isn't dying from his illness.”
I couldn't move. “What?”
“He was poisoned.”
“And the poison started the same week your stepmother took control of the Vale fortune.”
I looked into his eyes. I'm now realizing that the marriage I thought was a prison might be the only thing keeping me alive.
Then the lights in the mansion went out. A scream came from upstairs. Silas grabbed my hand.
“Stay behind me.”
Another scream, this time I recognized the voice.
My father's.
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