Chapter 3: The Letter He Must Never Read

Arabella read the sentence three times, hoping the words would somehow change.

There is a reason Damien Blackwood must never discover who his father really was.

Her father's handwriting was unmistakable. The sharp curves, the uneven spacing, and the small ink blot near the final word were exactly how she remembered them.

But the meaning?

That was something she couldn't understand.

“Mr. Bennett, what does this mean?”

The lawyer reached for his glasses and put them on with trembling fingers.

“I don't know what your father intended by that sentence.”

“Don't lie to me.”

“Arabella—”

“You recognized the photograph. You knew about the letter. And now you're telling me you have no idea what my father meant?”

Mr. Bennett lowered his gaze.

She stood, clutching the envelope against her chest.

“I have spent years believing that my father's biggest mistake was trusting the wrong business partners. Yesterday, Damien told me my father destroyed his family. Today, someone is threatening me because I asked questions.”

Her voice cracked.

“I deserve to know the truth.”

The lawyer looked toward the closed office door before speaking.

“Your father was a complicated man. He made decisions that hurt people, but he also spent the last years of his life trying to correct certain mistakes.”

“What mistakes?”

“I cannot tell you what I don't know.”

Arabella let out a bitter laugh.

“Everyone keeps saying that.”

She placed the letter inside her handbag.

“I'm taking this home.”

“Arabella, please. Don't show that document to Damien.”

She paused at the door.

“Why are you so afraid of him reading it?”

Mr. Bennett's face had lost its color.

“Because I believe the truth could destroy more than his family name.”

Arabella left without another word.

Outside, she checked her phone again. The threatening messages remained on the screen, but the sender had disappeared from the conversation list after she tried to call the number.

Whoever had contacted her knew where she had been.

They knew what she was investigating.

And they knew about Damien.

For the first time, Arabella wondered whether marrying him had been the worst decision of her life.

Unfortunately, it was also the only decision that could save her family home.

---

At noon, a black car arrived outside her apartment.

A man in a dark suit stepped out and approached her building's entrance.

“Miss Sinclair?”

Arabella immediately became cautious.

“Who are you?”

“My name is Thomas Reed. I'm Mr. Blackwood's personal assistant. He has requested your presence at his residence.”

“Did he say why?”

“He said you would understand.”

She almost refused.

Then she remembered the contract.

She had agreed to live in Damien's residence and attend events with him for six months. Their arrangement had barely begun, and already she was looking for excuses to avoid him.

Unfortunately, she needed the money.

“Fine. Give me ten minutes.”

Thomas nodded.

“Of course, Mrs. Blackwood.”

Arabella froze.

“Don't call me that.”

His expression remained professional.

“My apologies, Miss Sinclair.”

She returned to her apartment and packed a small suitcase. Before leaving, she slipped her father's letter into the inner pocket of her handbag and locked it.

She wasn't ready to trust Damien.

Not after everything she'd learned.

---

The Blackwood mansion stood on a private hill overlooking the city.

Tall iron gates opened as the car approached, revealing a long driveway lined with cypress trees. Beyond the immaculate gardens stood a magnificent modern mansion of glass, stone, and dark wood.

Arabella stepped out of the car and stared at the building.

It was beautiful.

Cold, imposing, and beautiful.

Much like its owner.

Inside, a housekeeper greeted her and showed her to a spacious bedroom on the second floor. The room had cream-colored walls, a king-sized bed, a private bathroom, and a balcony overlooking the gardens.

“This will be your room, ma'am,” the housekeeper explained. “Mr. Blackwood's suite is at the opposite end of the hallway.”

Arabella placed her suitcase beside the wardrobe.

“Thank you. And please, just call me Arabella.”

The housekeeper smiled politely.

“Very well, Miss Sinclair.”

After unpacking a few clothes, Arabella went downstairs in search of Damien.

She found him in a private study, standing beside a bookshelf while speaking on the phone.

“No. I don't care what the board thinks. The acquisition proceeds tomorrow.”

He listened for a moment.

“Then replace him.”

He ended the call and turned toward her.

“You're here.”

“You sent a car.”

“And you came.”

“Don't sound so surprised.”

His gaze moved briefly to her handbag.

“Did you speak to Bennett?”

Arabella's heart skipped.

“How do you know that?”

“Because I know the man has been keeping information from me for ten years.”

She tried to keep her expression neutral.

“What information?”

“If I knew, I wouldn't be asking questions.”

He walked toward the desk and picked up a glass of water.

“Did he give you anything?”

Arabella remembered her father's letter.

“No.”

The lie came out too quickly.

Damien's eyes narrowed.

“You're a terrible liar.”

“And you're incredibly intrusive.”

“Get used to it. We're married now.”

“Temporarily married.”

His lips curved into a humorless smile.

“Keep reminding yourself of that, Arabella.”

He set down the glass and approached her.

“There's a charity gala tomorrow evening. You'll attend with me.”

“Is that an order?”

“It's part of our agreement.”

She folded her arms.

“Fine. I'll go.”

“Good. A stylist will arrive at four. Don't make other plans.”

“Do you ever ask people for anything instead of commanding them?”

“Rarely.”

“At least you're honest.”

He studied her face for a moment.

“There's one more thing.”

“What now?”

“Until the gala, I want you to stay away from Bennett.”

Arabella's stomach tightened.

“Why?”

“Because he's been involved in matters that could damage both our families.”

“That's a convenient excuse.”

“Believe what you want. Just don't visit him again without telling me.”

She stared at him.

“You don't get to control who I speak to.”

“Then don't give me a reason to worry about what you're hiding.”

The words landed uncomfortably close to the truth.

Arabella turned away.

“I need to unpack.”

“Arabella.”

She stopped but didn't look back.

“Whatever your father left behind, I will find it.”

Her blood ran cold.

She forced herself to keep walking.

---

That evening, Arabella sat on the edge of her bed with the letter spread across her lap.

She had waited until the house grew quiet before reading the remaining pages.

Her father's confession described a series of meetings, an investment agreement, and a transaction that had supposedly taken place shortly before Damien's father died.

But one section had been torn away.

Someone had deliberately removed a portion of the letter.

The missing section appeared to contain the name of a person who had been present during the final meeting.

At the bottom of the last page, her father had written another warning.

If Damien ever discovers the identity of the person who arranged the original investment, he will learn that the betrayal came from within his own family.

Arabella read the sentence again.

Someone inside the Blackwood family had betrayed Damien's father.

But who?

She slipped the letter back into its envelope just as a knock sounded at her door.

“Arabella?”

Damien.

She quickly hid the envelope inside the drawer of her bedside table.

“Come in.”

He entered wearing a charcoal shirt with the sleeves rolled to his forearms. Without his suit jacket, he looked less like a corporate executive and more like a man who had forgotten how to relax.

His gaze immediately settled on the open drawer.

“What are you hiding?”

“Nothing.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“You really should stop using that word.”

“Then stop asking questions you have no right to ask.”

For a moment, neither moved.

Then Damien walked toward the bedside table.

Arabella stepped in front of him.

“Don't.”

His expression hardened.

“Move.”

“No.”

“Arabella, I won't ask twice.”

“And I won't move just because you think everyone should obey you.”

They stood inches apart.

She could smell his cologne, clean and woody, and the realization irritated her more than it should have.

Damien looked down at her.

“Do you understand what happens when you keep secrets from me?”

“Do you understand what happens when you treat your wife like a suspect?”

Something shifted in his expression at the word wife.

For a brief moment, his gaze dropped to her lips.

Then he stepped back.

“Tomorrow's gala starts at seven. Be ready.”

He turned toward the door.

Arabella released a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

But before leaving, Damien stopped.

“One final warning.”

She looked at him.

“If you're investigating my father, stop now.”

“Why?”

His face became unreadable.

“Because the last person who tried to uncover the truth about his death ended up in the hospital.”

The door closed behind him.

Arabella remained frozen beside the bed.

Then she heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps returning.

The door opened again.

Damien stood in the doorway, holding a small photograph.

Her photograph.

The one she had believed was safely tucked inside her handbag.

His eyes were dark with suspicion.

“Where did you get this?”

Arabella stared at the picture.

It showed her father standing beside Damien's father outside a hotel ten years ago.

But someone had written a message across the back.

A message she had never seen before.

THE WRONG MAN DIED.

Damien slowly raised his gaze to hers.

“Tell me the truth, Arabella.”

His voice was quiet, but the anger beneath it was unmistakable.

“Why does your dead father have a photograph of my father taken three days before he was murdered?”

Arabella's heart stopped.

Because until that moment, she had never known Damien's father might have been murdered.

And now the man she had agreed to marry was looking at her as though she might be the key to the crime.