The Tenth Day
1154 Words
Bella woke before her alarm.
She didn’t know why at first; only that something felt off. The apartment was quiet, city hum distant beyond glass and concrete. The lavender candle from last night had burned out completely, leaving only a thin curl of soot on the rim.
She sat up slowly.
Her phone lit up.
November 10.
She stared at the date longer than necessary, a shiver running down her spine.
A tired breath left her lips.
“Of course,” she murmured.
The dream hadn’t come this time… which unsettled her more than when it did. No flickering walls. No whisper. No X. Just blank, heavy sleep that ended too neatly.
Bella swung her legs off the bed and moved through her morning routine with practiced ease. Shower. Suit. Hair pinned back. Coffee she barely tasted. Mmhmm, everything seemed perfect.
Her phone buzzed again.
Ava: “Please tell me you’re awake. The office is weird today”
Bella typed back as she slipped on her heels.
“Always awake. Define weird.”
Three dots appeared. Disappeared, then she finally responded. “You’ll see.”
She was halfway to the office when her phone rang.
Unknown number.
Bella answered without hesitation.
“Hart.”
“Bella.” Marcus’s voice came through the other line.
She slowed her steps, steadying herself.
“What happened?” she asked calmly.
A pause too long.
“There’s been a death.”
Her fingers tightened around the phone.
“Who?”
Another pause followed, shorter this time.
“Victor Barret.”
Bella stopped walking.
Victor Barret.
Close friend to Ethan’s father, a part of the Board of Directors of Reeves Tech. Seventy-two. He had quiet power, the type that came from years of real power.
Her chest tightened, not from fear or shock, just that familiar internal shift; like a door closing softly somewhere inside her.
“When?” she asked.
“Early this morning,” Marcus said.
“Private residence, no forced entry.”
Bella closed her eyes briefly.
“And?”
“And the mark.”
She didn’t need him to explain.
“I’m on my way,” she said, hanging up.
…
The house was already cordoned off when Bella arrived. A sprawling estate tucked behind iron gates and old trees; the kind of place money bought silence around.
Ethan was there.
She spotted him immediately, standing near the steps with Olivia beside him. His shoulders were tense, face pale in a way that didn’t suit him.
Olivia’s hand rested on his back.
Bella approached slowly, not wanting to intrude; but Ethan saw her anyway.
His gaze lifted, locked onto hers, relief flickering across his face before he could hide it.
“Bella,” he said quietly.
She nodded. “I’m sorry.”
He swallowed. “He was like an uncle.”
“I know.”
She didn’t touch him, didn’t step closer. But something in her presence seemed to steady him anyway.
Olivia looked at Bella with polite composure; but her eyes were sharper now, assessing.
Marcus appeared beside Bella.
“Come see,” he said gently.
Inside, the house was immaculate. Too immaculate. There were no signs of struggle, no broken glass, no overturned furniture.
The body lay in the study.
Victor Barret sat in the chair as if frozen mid-thought, head tilted slightly to one side.
Bella noticed it immediately.
The tilt.
Her gaze flickered away just as quickly.
Marcus crouched beside the body.
“Time of death between midnight and two.”
Bella scanned the room without staring too hard; books, desk, window frame, fireplace.
Then she saw it.
The X.
Clean. Precise. Almost… reverent.
She swallowed hard.
“You were right,” Marcus muttered. “Ethan was just a distraction. He was the target.”
Bella said nothing.
Because somewhere deep inside, a quiet part of her had already known.
The room buzzed with quiet tension as agents moved around, inspecting, hoping to find even the tiniest hint.
One whispered, “Reeves family connections.”
Another murmured, “Olivia Monroe was here last night.”
Bella’s head turned slightly.
“Here?” she asked.
Marcus nodded. “She had dinner with him. Staff confirmed.”
Across the room, Olivia stood stiffly near Ethan, answering questions with controlled calm.
Bella watched; not accusing, not suspicious. Just observing.
Grief looked different on everyone.
Olivia was sharp-edged, defensive, and perfectly contained.
Ethan’s was raw, unfiltered. He rubbed a hand over his face repeatedly, breath uneven.
Bella felt a strange pull toward him; protective, instinctive, but she brushed it aside.
This isn’t about you; she reminded herself.
Hours later, the sun dipped low.
Bella stepped outside, needing air.
Ethan followed.
“I didn’t think you’d be right,” he said quietly.
She turned to him. “I didn’t want to be.”
He hesitated. “When you talk… it’s like you see things before they happen.”
Bella smiled faintly. “Well, I didn’t get this one totally right. I had guessed it would be your father.”
He studied her, something unresolved in his eyes.
“You make me feel like I’m missing something important,” he said.
She laughed softly. “You probably are. We all are.”
He smiled back.
Inside, Olivia watched them through the glass.
Her expression, unreadable.
…
They crossed paths later that evening by accident.
Bella was exiting the office, files under her arm, mentally rearranging arguments she might never voice. Ethan stood near the curb, jacket undone, and expression distracted.
“Ms. Hart,” he said, sighting her.
She looked up, momentarily startled.
“Mr. Reeves.”
“Ethan,” he corrected gently, offering her a smile.
She hesitated, then nodded. “Ethan.”
They stood there, uncertain.
“I still can’t get over how right you were,” he said. “About the distraction.”
She smiled faintly. “I wasn’t certain.”
“You sounded like you were.”
“That’s part of the job.”
He studied her, something thoughtful passing through his gaze.
“You don’t look like someone who enjoys being right.”
She blinked. “Is that what I look like?”
He smiled. “No. You look like someone who carries things quietly.”
Bella laughed softly. “You’re reading into me.”
“Am I?”
She didn’t answer.
He felt the pull again; that sense of familiarity hovering out of reach. She felt… normal to him, in a way nothing else had since he returned.
Bella, meanwhile, was already stepping away.
“Good night, Ethan.”
He watched her go, the words we’ve met before rising again; uninvited, unanswered.
Later, alone again, Bella stood by her room window.
The city breathed below her. Sirens in the distance. Life continuing without pause.
She touched her wrist absently, then let her hand fall.
Somewhere, something was shifting.
Not loudly, not yet.
And that, she thought, was what made it dangerous.
- Writer
