# Chapter Seven: *The Ghost in the Sheets*
634 Words
**Toronto – Two Days Later**
Amara hadn’t spoken to Damian since the night of the gala.
Not because she didn’t want to.
But because she was scared of what she’d hear if she asked more questions.
Melanie.
That name hung between them like a knife dangling from a thread. And the message from the unknown number still echoed in her head.
> _She’s alive. And she’s ready to talk._
Amara had tried to dig, of course. She’d googled Melanie Carter, scanned university archives, even checked old faculty photos. But it was like she’d been scrubbed from existence.
Wiped clean.
And Amara knew one thing for sure:
People don’t vanish unless they’re running.
Or hiding.
---
**Damian’s Penthouse – That Night**
She went back.
Against her better judgment, against every rule of self-respect… she knocked.
He opened the door in sweatpants and a low-hanging gray tee, bare feet on the marble floor, tired eyes that still lit up when they saw her.
> “I wasn’t sure you’d come.”
> “Neither was I,” she said honestly.
He stepped aside.
> “Are you going to ask again?” he said softly.
> “About Melanie?”
> “Yes.”
> “No.”
> “Why?”
She stepped close, pressing her palm to his chest.
> “Because tonight, I don’t want the truth.”
His eyes burned.
> “What do you want?”
> “You. On top of me. Between my thighs. In my throat.”
He growled and lifted her off the floor.
They didn’t make it to the bedroom. He laid her down on the sleek black couch, yanking her jeans off, tasting her like salvation and sin.
> “Say it again,” he demanded.
> “I want you,” she moaned.
> “Who owns this body?”
> “You do. You always have.”
> “Louder.”
She screamed his name.
He took her twice, hard and deep, until her legs trembled and her mind dissolved. They collapsed together, sweat slick and breathless.
---
**Later – In Bed**
She rested her head on his chest.
> “You’ll tell me eventually,” she whispered.
> “I will.”
> “Because you want to or because I asked?”
> “Because I can’t lose you again.”
Her heart stuttered.
But her phone vibrated.
Another message.
**Unknown Number:** _Check your email._
She rolled over and tapped into her inbox.
One new email. No subject. One attachment.
She opened it.
**A video.**
Damian.
And Melanie.
Arguing.
In his office.
Then her slapping him.
Then him grabbing her wrist.
Then—
The video ended.
Amara’s stomach flipped.
Damian leaned over. “What is it?”
She shoved the phone at him.
His face drained.
> “Where did you get this?”
> “What happened, Damian?”
> “This isn’t what it looks like.”
> “Then what is it?”
> “She was obsessed. She accused me of using her. I lost my temper. I never hurt her.”
> “But someone thinks you did.”
He stood up, pacing.
> “This was two years ago. She left. Vanished. Now this?”
> “Someone’s trying to frame you?”
> “Or destroy me.”
> “Or warn me.”
They locked eyes.
Amara swallowed hard.
> “Do you want me to stay?”
> “Yes.”
> “Then tell me everything tomorrow. No secrets.”
> “Deal.”
But neither of them slept.
And outside, in a car parked two blocks away, someone watched their window.
> “Let’s see how long the professor keeps her in the dark.”
---
*End of Chapter Seven
- Writer
