Chapter 3: The Night He Died
1249 Words
The ballroom exploded into chaos.
"No way."
"That's James."
"Is this real?"
Phones rose into the air.
Guests whispered.
Shouted.
Recorded.
The security footage continued playing on the giant screen.
My eyes never left it.
James stood frozen beside me.
His face had gone pale.
On the screen, he exited Room 412.
Derek's hospital room.
The night Derek died.
The timestamp glowed like a wound.
3:03 A.M.
The exact time Derek kept mentioning.
The exact time written in the condensation.
The exact time he appeared.
My stomach twisted.
James suddenly moved.
He grabbed the microphone from the stage.
"Turn it off."
Nobody moved.
"Turn it off now."
The event staff scrambled.
The screen went black.
Too late.
Everyone had seen it.
Including me.
James looked directly at me.
"Desidre, I can explain."
I laughed.
A sharp, disbelieving sound.
"Can you?"
His jaw tightened.
"Yes."
"Then explain."
The room quieted.
People were pretending not to listen.
Nobody was leaving.
Because this was better than any movie.
A dead billionaire had returned.
Now his replacement fiancé was caught on camera leaving his hospital room before he died.
James ran a hand through his hair.
"I treated Derek that night."
I blinked.
"What?"
"He wasn't my patient officially, but there were complications after surgery."
The explanation came quickly.
Too quickly.
Like he'd rehearsed it.
"I checked on him before leaving."
"And you never told me?"
His eyes flickered.
That tiny hesitation said everything.
"No."
My heart sank.
"Why?"
"Because you were grieving."
Not an answer.
I took a step back.
"Try again."
For the first time, James looked nervous.
Actually nervous.
Before he could speak, every phone in the ballroom buzzed.
At once.
Hundreds of phones.
The sound was terrifying.
Everyone looked down.
Gasps erupted immediately.
My hands trembled as I checked mine.
A photo filled the screen.
Hospital Room 412.
Derek lying unconscious.
James standing beside the bed.
The timestamp read:
3:04 A.M.
One minute after entering.
One minute before Derek's official time of death.
Attached was a single message.
ASK HIM WHAT HAPPENED NEXT.
The sender had no number.
No name.
Just a blank contact.
The room turned ice cold.
I didn't need to ask who sent it.
Derek.
The lights flickered.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
James swore under his breath.
"Enough."
The chandeliers swung violently overhead.
As if an invisible hand had shoved them.
Several guests screamed.
A glass shattered somewhere behind me.
Then a familiar voice echoed through the ballroom speakers.
Low.
Calm.
Dead.
"Answer her, James."
Silence.
Absolute silence.
Every person in the room froze.
Because they all recognized the voice.
Derek Blackwood.
James's face lost all color.
The voice continued.
"What happened after 3:04?"
The microphone squealed.
The sound cut out.
But the damage was done.
Everyone had heard it.
I stared at James.
Waiting.
Praying he would say something that made sense.
Something innocent.
Something normal.
Instead, he looked away.
My stomach dropped.
"You lied to me."
His silence confirmed it.
The betrayal hurt more than I expected.
Not because I loved him.
Maybe I never had.
But because I'd trusted him.
When Derek died, James had been there.
Helping me survive.
Helping me heal.
Helping me move forward.
Now I didn't know what was real.
"Desidre—"
"Don't."
His face tightened.
"I wasn't trying to hurt you."
"Then what were you trying to do?"
He opened his mouth.
Closed it.
For a moment, genuine guilt flashed across his face.
Then everything changed.
A scream came from the back of the ballroom.
Everyone turned.
A woman pointed toward the entrance.
Her hand shook violently.
"Oh my God."
The crowd parted.
And there he was.
Derek.
This time he wasn't a shadow.
Wasn't a flicker.
Wasn't a reflection.
He stood in the doorway.
Solid.
Terrifying.
Beautiful.
Every eye locked onto him.
Women stopped breathing.
Men instinctively backed away.
Power rolled off him like a storm.
The room temperature plummeted.
His grey eyes found mine immediately.
Only mine.
The world disappeared.
Just for a second.
The noise.
The crowd.
The fear.
Everything vanished.
It was just us.
The way it used to be.
Before hospitals.
Before funerals.
Before death.
My chest hurt.
Because I still remembered loving him.
And some part of me still did.
Damian took a single step forward.
The crowd scattered instantly.
Nobody wanted to be near him.
Except me.
Which was insane.
He stopped three feet away.
Close enough for me to see every familiar detail.
The scar above his eyebrow.
The stubborn tilt of his jaw.
The eyes that always looked at me like I was something precious.
Something irreplaceable.
His gaze dropped to my bare ring finger.
Then back to me.
A flicker of satisfaction appeared.
Gone instantly.
"You look tired."
The softness in his voice made my throat tighten.
Six months.
Six months without hearing that voice.
And somehow he still sounded like home.
I hated that.
I hated him for that.
Tears burned behind my eyes.
"You died."
The words came out broken.
His expression changed.
Pain flashed across his face.
Real pain.
"I know."
"You left me."
His jaw clenched.
"I tried not to."
The answer shattered something inside me.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
The ballroom no longer existed.
Only grief.
Only memories.
Only us.
Then James stepped forward.
The spell broke instantly.
"Stay away from her."
Derek's eyes shifted.
The warmth vanished.
Cold fury replaced it.
The entire room seemed to freeze.
Literally.
Frost spread across the floor beneath his feet.
"You're still talking."
James stiffened.
"What?"
Derek smiled.
Dangerously.
"I find that interesting."
Several guests bolted for the exits.
Smart people.
The tension felt explosive.
Like a bomb seconds from detonation.
“Derek," I said quickly.
Both men looked at me.
Bad idea.
Now they were united in one thing.
Protecting me.
Possessing me.
Wanting me.
And neither intended to lose.
My pulse hammered.
I pointed at James.
“Why was he in your room?"
Derek's expression darkened.
The air grew colder.
For a second, I thought he wouldn't answer.
Then he did.
Three words.
"He killed me."
The ballroom erupted.
People shouted.
Gasps filled the room.
Someone dropped a champagne bottle.
It exploded against the floor.
I couldn't breathe.
"No."
My voice barely worked.
"No."
Damian never looked away from me.
"I remember dying."
Every word felt deliberate.
Careful.
Like he wanted me to understand.
"I remember the machines."
My heart pounded.
"I remember the pain."
The lights flickered again.
"And I remember opening my eyes."
Silence.
Pure silence.
Then Derek smiled.
A smile that sent chills down my spine.
Because it wasn't directed at James.
It wasn't directed at the guests.
It was directed at me.
And somehow that was worse.
"I wasn't alone."
My stomach dropped.
"What do you mean?"
Derek's gaze softened.
For the first time all night.
"There was someone else in that room."
The ballroom seemed to hold its breath.
I did too.
Then he spoke the words that changed everything.
"It wasn't James."
The world stopped.
Because if James wasn't the person who killed him...
Then someone else had been inside that hospital room.
Someone hidden from the footage.
Someone Derek remembered.
Someone dangerous enough to murder one of the most powerful men in Boston.
My phone vibrated.
I looked down.
A new message appeared.
Unknown Number.
One sentence.
The person who killed Derek is standing in this ballroom.
I slowly raised my head.
And realized every person around me suddenly looked like a suspect.
- Writer
