CHAPTER 5: What He Knows

ZARIA POV 

I stood on the landing for a long time after he disappeared down the corridor, his words echoing in my head.

We should talk.

Two words. That was all it took. They wrapped around my throat like a hand and refused to let go.

I retreated to my room, closed the door, and sat on the edge of the bed. My hands wouldn’t stop shaking as I dialed Nala.

She picked up immediately. “Zaria? What’s wrong?”

“He’s here,” I whispered.

“Who’s here?”

“The man from the car.” My voice cracked. “Nala… he lives here. He is Ethan’s uncle.”

The silence on the other end was the longest Nala had ever been quiet.

“Say that again,” she said slowly.

“You heard me.”

“Zaria.”

“I know.”

“You slept with your husband’s—”

“I know, Nala.”

“In his nephew’s car—”

“I said I know!” I pressed my palm against my forehead. “He recognized me on the stairs. He looked at me like he already knew everything. And he said we should talk.”

“Fuck,” she breathed. “Okay… okay, breathe. What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted, chest tight. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

I spent the rest of the day moving like prey through the estate, constantly checking his location. Which corridor he might use. Which room he was in. How many walls I could keep between us.

At lunch, he was already seated when I entered.

Caelum sat directly across from me. Calm. Controlled. He ate slowly while discussing business with his father, his low voice steady and commanding. He never once looked at me.

Not a single glance.

That silence hurt worse than any stare could have.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

My father called in the afternoon.

“Zaria,” he said, voice clipped. “It’s been weeks. How are things progressing with Ethan? The timeline isn’t flexible.”

“I’m handling it,” I replied, keeping my tone even.

“Handling it isn’t producing results. Remember what’s at stake. Your mother’s inheritance isn’t a gift; it’s a condition. Fail to deliver a Voss heir, and everything stays with me.”

I barely got through the call. The moment it ended, I slipped into a small side sitting room, desperate for air.

He was already there.

Caelum stood by the window, hands in his pockets, staring out at the grounds. The room felt instantly smaller, the air thicker.

“Sit down,” he said without turning.

“I’d rather stand.”

He turned then. Those cool grey-brown eyes locked onto mine, direct, unreadable, and holding far too long. “Sit down, Zaria.”

The way he said my name, like he had been carrying it for years, made my legs move before I could stop them. I sat.

He remained standing, studying me from across the room.

“The car,” he said quietly.

My stomach dropped. “I don’t know what you’re—”

"Don't," he said, his voice soft but sharp enough to cut. “I remember exactly how you felt. Don’t insult both of us by pretending otherwise.”

Neither of us said anything. The quiet felt wrong.

I swallowed hard. “What do you want?”

He looked at me for a long moment, something dark and complicated shifting behind his eyes. “I haven’t decided yet.”

My phone buzzed on the table. A message from Rowan.

Dad wants a progress report. How many weeks has it been, sis?

I stared at the screen, then back at Caelum—the man who hadn’t decided what he wanted from me yet. Three different nooses tightening at once. I had never felt more trapped in my life.

A knock sounded at the door. A servant stepped in. “Miss Zaria, Mrs. Mirelle is on the phone. She says it’s important—a family matter.”

I excused myself and stepped into the corridor to take the call.

Mirelle’s voice came through warm and careful. “Darling, I just wanted to check in. Your father mentioned you seemed stressed during his last call. Is everything alright in the house?”

“Everything is fine,” I said tightly.

“And with Ethan?” She paused, letting the question breathe. “Things are… progressing?”

The word landed hard. It didn't stop sinking in, like my chest had a timer on it.

“Everything is fine, Mirelle,” I repeated. “I have to go.”

I ended the call and leaned against the corridor wall, trying to hold myself together. My father’s timeline. Caelum’s knowledge. Mirelle’s constant surveillance. All of it pressing down at once while I stood in a house that had never learned my name.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

When I returned to the room, Caelum was still there.

He stood in the same spot, but now he was holding something small between his fingers. He turned it slowly in the light.

My breath caught.

It was my silver charm—the one my mother gave me years ago. I hadn’t even realized it was missing. It must have fallen off that night.

He held it out toward me.

I didn’t take it.

“How long are you going to pretend,” he said quietly, voice low and steady, “that you don’t know exactly what happened that night?”

I looked at the charm in his hand.

I looked at his face.

And for the first time since this nightmare started, I had absolutely no prepared answer.

He didn’t press me for one.

That was the first thing that felt wrong.

Most men would have filled the silence. Demanded something. Forced the moment forward.

Caelum didn’t.

He just watched me.

Slowly, almost absently, he closed his fingers around the charm and slipped it into his pocket instead of handing it back.

My breath caught.

“That’s mine,” I said before I could stop myself.

“I know.”

His voice was quiet. Certain.

That was all.

No apology. No explanation.

Just possession.

Something cold slid down my spine.

He stepped closer then, not enough to touch me but enough that I felt it.

“I was going to let it go,” he said, almost like he was thinking out loud. “That night. What happened? You.”

My pulse stuttered.

He tilted his head slightly, studying me in a way that felt less like looking and more like deciding.

“But then you turned out to be my nephew’s wife.”

The words settled between us like something irreversible.

“And that,” he added softly, “changes things.”

Silence pressed in around us.

I didn’t ask what he meant.

I didn’t want to.

Because something in his expression told me very clearly—

He had already decided.

And whatever he was going to do next…

It wasn’t something I would be able to stop.

And the worst part was… a small, traitorous part of me wanted to know what he had decided.