SHADOWS OF THE PAST

CHAPTER 9: SPILLED SECRETS.

The morning sunlight crept through the thin curtains, painting the apartment in soft gold. Anastasia sat at the edge of her bed, clutching her phone — her eyes still fixed on the photograph and the message from last night.

Stop looking. You don’t know what you’re messing with.

Sleep had been impossible. Every creak of the apartment, every passing car outside, had set her on edge. She had checked the door three times before sunrise, just to make sure it was locked.

The front door opened quietly, breaking the silence. Mia stepped inside, still wearing the oversized hoodie from the night before, her hair tied in a messy bun, a content little smile on her lips. She looked like someone who’d had a long night but a good one.

“Morning, sleepyhead!” she said, tossing her bag onto the couch. “You’re up early for someone who usually snoozes through alarms.”

Anastasia managed a weak smile. “Couldn’t sleep.”

Mia frowned immediately. “Why? You okay?”

Anastasia hesitated, then took a deep breath. “Mia… there’s something I need to tell you.”

Mia blinked, sensing the seriousness in her tone. “What’s going on?”

Anastasia reached for her phone and handed it to her friend. “Last night, when I came back from work… this was under the door.”

Mia’s cheerful expression vanished the moment she saw the photograph — Anastasia’s own face captured outside the hardware store — and then the message beneath it.

“Oh my God, Ana…” she whispered. “Who would do this?”

“I don’t know,” Anastasia said softly. “And that’s not all.”

She told her everything — about Michael, about seeing him at the airport, about his unsettling calmness, and how she had been trying to find him online but couldn’t. Then she explained how her search led her to that messy article about a man with the same surname — a powerful businessman tangled in scandals.

“I don’t even know if it’s him,” Anastasia finished, her voice low. “But it’s the only lead I found. And now I’m getting threats.”

Mia frowned, scrolling on the phone. “What was his name again?”

“Michael… I never got his surname.”

Mia paused for a long moment, thinking. Then her eyes widened slightly. “Wait — you said the article was about his father?”

Anastasia nodded slowly.

“Oh, I know about that,” Mia said, lowering her voice as if afraid the walls could hear. “Not about Michael himself, but about his father. He’s one of the biggest shareholders in our university. My cousin’s boyfriend works in the admin office — he told me once that the Demetriou family practically owns part of the campus. Big money. Old connections. The kind of people you don’t cross.”

Anastasia froze. “Demetriou…” she whispered, the name hitting her like a wave. That was the name she had seen in the headline.

Mia nodded. “Yeah. Elias Demetriou. He’s powerful, but there were rumors… shady business deals, corruption, something about his company being investigated. It was all over the news a while back, then it disappeared like it never happened.”

The room fell silent. Anastasia stared at her phone, her pulse quickening. If Michael was Alexander Demetriou’s son, then everything suddenly made sense — the secrecy, the danger, the warning.

Mia leaned closer, whispering, “Ana… whatever you’ve stumbled into, be careful. People like that don’t just play games.”

Anastasia exhaled slowly, her mind racing. Demetriou. The name felt heavier now, real, dangerous.

“I’m starting to think,” she murmured, “I should’ve never met him.”

Later that morning, the campus courtyard buzzed with life — laughter, chatter, the clatter of heels and sneakers echoing against the stone paths. Anastasia and Mia walked side by side, both clutching their cups of coffee from the café near the library.

Mia was still talking about her boyfriend’s new car when Anastasia’s mind drifted elsewhere — the name Demetriou echoing through her thoughts like a warning she couldn’t shake.

“—and he says he might take me to Cape Town for the weekend,” Mia giggled, breaking into her daydream.

Anastasia smiled absently. “That’s… nice, Mia.”

“You’re not even listening,” Mia teased, nudging her arm.

“I am! It’s just—”

Before Anastasia could finish, someone brushed past them. A deep voice murmured something low into a phone. Her steps faltered. That voice — she knew it. She looked up and froze.

Michael.

He stood only a few feet away, tall and commanding in his dark tailored suit, one hand in his pocket, the other holding his phone to his ear. His expression was sharp, unreadable — the type that made the world around him fade away.

Mia noticed Anastasia’s sudden silence and followed her gaze. “Wait… is that—”

Before she could finish, Anastasia, still caught in her trance, turned abruptly — and her coffee slipped from her hand, spilling straight across Michael’s chest and arm.

The courtyard seemed to go silent for a split second.

“Oh my God!” Anastasia gasped, mortified. “I—I’m so sorry!”

Michael lowered his phone, his gaze steady on her. For a heartbeat, she expected him to yell, to curse — but he didn’t. Instead, he simply looked down at the mess, then back at her trembling hands.

“It’s alright,” he said calmly, his voice low and smooth. “It’s just coffee.”

“No, please, I didn’t mean—” she reached for a napkin from her bag, dabbing at his suit without thinking. “I’m so sorry, I swear I didn’t see you—”

Her touch froze when he unbuttoned his jacket, slipping it off with a slow, unhurried motion.

“Relax,” he murmured, his tone almost teasing. “You’ll make it worse.”

He placed his phone in his pocket and shrugged out of his white shirt, revealing skin marked with black ink — intricate tattoos that climbed over his arms and shoulder, disappearing beneath the fabric still clinging to his chest. His body was lean, powerful, every movement precise.

Anastasia stood frozen, her heart racing. For a moment, words refused to form.

Mia coughed softly beside her. “Uhm… wow. That escalated quickly.”

Michael smirked faintly, catching the comment. “I’ll get it cleaned,” he said, folding the damp shirt neatly in one hand. “Accidents happen.”

Anastasia stammered, “I really didn’t mean to—”

He met her eyes for the first time since the airport. “I know,” he said simply. Then, with that same cool composure, he walked away toward the parking lot, leaving behind a trail of whispers and stunned stares from passing students.

Anastasia turned to Mia, still gripping the empty cup. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment — and something else she couldn’t name.

“Did that just happen?” she whispered.

Mia exhaled. “Oh, it definitely did. And bestie… you just spilled coffee on the hottest man in the universe.”

They settled at one of the benches near the fountain, still half-shocked by what had just happened. Anastasia’s hands were trembling, and she couldn’t tell if it was from embarrassment or from the image of Michael’s tattooed chest that refused to leave her mind.

Mia was the first to break the silence. “Okay,” she said, dramatically fanning herself. “You cannot tell me that wasn’t the most romantic accident in history.”

Anastasia groaned and buried her face in her hands. “Mia, I spilled coffee on him. That’s not romantic — that’s humiliating.”

“Humiliating?” Mia giggled. “Bestie, you practically touched the man’s abs while apologizing. If that’s humiliation, sign me up.”

“Mia!”

“Fine, fine,” she said, trying to hold back another laugh. “But tell me this — who takes off his shirt in front of half the campus without blinking? That man is confident. Dangerous confident.”

Anastasia sighed, staring down at the half-empty cup in her hand. “He didn’t even get angry. Not one word. It’s like nothing bothers him.”

“Maybe he’s just used to women throwing things at him,” Mia teased.

“That’s not funny.”

Mia tilted her head. “It kind of is.”

But beneath the jokes, Anastasia could feel her heart racing in ways she couldn’t explain. There was something unsettling about the way Michael looked at her — calm, unreadable, but with an intensity that made her want to look away and keep staring at the same time.

Her phone buzzed. It was a message from her stepmother.

> Hope you’re doing well, Anastasia. Your father is stable today.

She exhaled softly, typing back quickly: I’m glad. Tell him I miss him. And don’t worry about me — I found a job.

When she hit send, she felt a strange mix of relief and pride settle in her chest.

Mia leaned closer, sipping her coffee. “Who was that?”

“My stepmother,” Anastasia said. “Dad’s been sick… but she said he’s stable. And I told her about the job.”

Mia’s eyes widened. “Wait — you told me you were looking for a job, not that you found one! Since when?”

Anastasia smiled a little, feeling shy under her best friend’s stare. “Since yesterday. At a hardware store near the square. The old man who owns it needed help, so I just asked… and he said yes.”

Mia’s jaw dropped. “You? You just walked in and got a job? Without me coaching you through it first?”

“Apparently, yes,” Anastasia said, laughing softly.

Mia blinked, then smiled — half proud, half impressed. “Okay, bestie, I see you! Look at you being all independent and responsible. Who even are you?”

Anastasia chuckled, feeling the warmth of the compliment. “I had to try. Things back home aren’t good, and I didn’t want to wait until it was too late.”

Mia’s teasing softened. “I get it. I’m proud of you, though. Seriously.”

“Thanks.”

“Just promise me one thing,” Mia said, nudging her shoulder. “Don’t let some mysterious man with tattoos distract you from that job, okay?”

Anastasia blushed instantly. “Mia!”

“What? I’m serious!” she laughed. “If he walks into that hardware store one day, you better pretend you don’t even recognize him.”

Anastasia smiled, but deep down, a quiet part of her wondered what she’d do if that actually happened.

Mia stood, stretching her arms. “Anyway, I’ve got class in ten minutes. You?”

“Free till two,” Anastasia said, still lost in thought.

“Perfect. Go buy yourself lunch with your first-day paycheck in advance,” Mia teased. “You earned it.”

She gave Anastasia a quick hug before hurrying off toward the lecture hall, her laughter echoing behind her.

Anastasia sat for a moment longer, the morning sunlight washing over her face. The world felt lighter somehow — not because everything was perfect, but because she was starting to find her place in it.

Still… Michael’s eyes lingered in her mind, as vivid as the moment he turned toward her.

By the time Anastasia’s last class ended, the sun was sliding toward the horizon, painting the sky in streaks of gold and pale pink. She gathered her notes, slung her bag over her shoulder, and started the short walk toward the hardware store.

Her phone buzzed as she reached the gate. It was a message from Mia:

> Hey bestie, can you please grab some butter — salted one — and a 2-liter milk on your way home? I’ll pay you back, promise 😘

Anastasia smiled to herself. Typical Mia. Always something. She tucked her phone into her pocket and crossed the road, her mind already replaying the events of that morning — the coffee, Michael’s calm voice, his tattoos, the way he didn’t even seem angry.

The embarrassment still burned in her chest. She groaned softly, pressing a hand to her forehead. “Of all people, Anastasia,” she whispered under her breath. “You just had to spill coffee on the one man who looks like sin and power combined.”

She shook her head, trying to push the thought away as she turned the corner toward the store.

The street was quieter now. The usual chatter from nearby shops had faded, and only a few cars passed by. She could hear the soft click of her own shoes on the pavement — and something else.

Footsteps.

At first, she thought she imagined them. But when she slowed down, the sound did too. When she sped up, it followed.

Her pulse quickened. She looked over her shoulder — nothing. Just an empty stretch of sidewalk, a parked black sedan at the far end, and the faint rustle of leaves from the wind.

You’re overthinking, Ana, she told herself. You’ve been watching too many crime documentaries with Mia.

Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling. She clutched her bag tighter and quickened her pace until she reached the hardware store. The glowing “OPEN” sign felt like a safe harbor.

As soon as she stepped inside, the familiar smell of varnish, wood, and metal greeted her. Mr. Harris looked up from behind the counter, smiling warmly. “Evening, Anastasia! You’re right on time.”

She forced a smile. “Hi, Mr. Harris.”

“Tom’s in the back, sorting new stock,” he said. “If you could take over the till, that’d be great.”

“Of course.” She hung her bag on the hook behind the counter and began straightening a few receipts and price tags, trying to focus. But every time she glanced at the window, she thought she saw a flicker of movement outside — a shadow that didn’t quite belong.

Stop it, Anastasia.

She inhaled deeply, forcing her hands to steady. Customers started coming in — a woman buying nails and glue, a young man needing a paintbrush — and soon the rhythm of work distracted her. By the time Mr. Harris came by to check on her, she’d almost forgotten the eerie walk there.

“Good job, young lady,” he said, handing her a small clipboard. “You’ve got a good head on your shoulders. Not many students these days do.”

“Thank you,” she said with a shy smile.

But later, as she looked through the store’s glass door, she froze.

That same black sedan from earlier — it was parked across the street now. Its headlights were off, engine silent, tinted windows giving nothing away.

Her stomach turned.

Tom noticed her sudden stillness. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” she said quickly, forcing a smile. “Just thought I saw someone I know.”

“Hmm,” he muttered, unconvinced. “You sure you’re good walking home alone? It’s getting dark.”

She hesitated. “I’ll be fine. I just need to stop by the shop for milk and butter.”

He nodded. “Alright then, but text me when you get home, okay? Mr. Harris would worry.”

As Anastasia locked the store behind her, the evening air felt cooler, the shadows stretching longer as the sun dipped lower. She kept her phone in hand, ready to text Mia once she got home. The thought of butter and milk felt like a small comfort in the midst of the growing tension.

As she began her walk, the feeling of being watched returned. She glanced around, but the street was as empty as before. Her steps quickened slightly, and she tried to shake off the paranoia.

When she reached the small grocery store, she quickly grabbed the butter and milk, feeling a bit more at ease among the familiar shelves. As she paid and stepped back out, she noticed a black car parked a little further down the street, its engine off, the windows tinted and unreadable.

Her heart skipped a beat, and she quickened her pace, trying to convince herself it was just a coincidence. But the feeling of being followed lingered as she made her way toward her apartment.

She finally reached the building, her breath a bit heavier than usual, and unlocked the door. As soon as she stepped inside, the tension melted away, and she felt a bit safer.

She texted Mia that she’d gotten the groceries and headed to the kitchen to put them away. The day’s events swirled in her mind, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that this was just the beginning of something much bigger.

Anastasia nodded and managed a small smile, but when she stepped outside later that evening, the sedan was gone.

Still… she couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was still watching.

When Anastasia reached the apartment, she felt her muscles finally loosen. The air was still cool from the night, but inside, the warmth and faint smell of buttered popcorn filled the space.

“Mia?” she called out as she locked the door behind her.

“In here!” Mia’s voice came from the couch. She was curled up under a blanket, watching some reality show with a bowl of snacks in her lap. “You got the stuff?”

Anastasia smiled, lifting the grocery bag. “Butter and milk, as requested.”

“Perfect! You’re a lifesaver.”

She placed the items in the fridge and leaned against the counter, letting the day’s exhaustion wash over her. “It’s been a long one.”

Mia muted the TV. “You okay? You look… tense.”

“Yeah. Just tired,” Anastasia said softly, not wanting to mention the car or the eerie feeling that had followed her. “It was a busy day.”

Mia nodded. “Well, get some rest, bestie. You’ve earned it.”

Anastasia smiled faintly and went to her room, slipping off her shoes. She glanced at the window — half-open, letting in a cool breeze. She didn’t remember leaving it that way, but she shrugged it off. Maybe Mia wanted fresh air.

She changed into her pajamas, climbed into bed, and turned off the lamp. The city lights outside painted soft lines across her wall.

Her phone buzzed once on the nightstand. A message.

She squinted at the screen — Unknown Number.

> You shouldn’t walk alone at night, Anastasia.

Her stomach dropped.

“Mia?” she whispered, her voice trembling.

From the other room, Mia’s laughter echoed faintly from the TV.

Then — a soft knock on her window.

One.

Two.

Three.

Slow. Deliberate.

Anastasia’s breath caught as her eyes darted toward the glass. The curtains swayed gently, and a dark silhouette shifted just outside.