The Return

Three weeks passed.

Three weeks of silence. Three weeks of healing. Three weeks of learning how to live again.

I moved out of Elias's penthouse and into a small apartment on the other side of the city. It wasn't much a one-bedroom with creaky floors and a view of a parking lot but it was mine. I paid the deposit with money I'd saved from before the wedding. I bought furniture from thrift stores. I hung curtains that didn't match.

It was the first home I'd ever had that was entirely my own.

Elias didn't argue when I told him I needed space. He didn't try to stop me. He just looked at me with those grey eyes and said, "I'll wait for you."

I didn't know if I believed him.

But I appreciated the sentiment.

I got a job at a small bookstore downtown.

It didn't pay much. I spent my days shelving books and recommending novels to strangers. I drank coffee that was too strong and ate sandwiches at my desk. I learned the names of the regulars. I learned how to smile again.

It was simple. It was quiet.

It was exactly what I needed.

Elias and I talk every day.

He called in the mornings, before I left for work. We'd talk about nothing the weather, the news, a book he was reading. He never pushed. He never asked for more than I was willing to give.

But I could hear the longing in his voice. The patience. The waiting.

And I felt it too.

On a Thursday afternoon, my phone rang.

I was shelving a stack of mystery novels when I saw the name on the screen.

Damon.

I stared at the phone for a long moment. I hadn't spoken to him since the wedding. I hadn't seen him since the chaos in the church. I'd assumed he'd disappeared licking his wounds, or plotting his revenge,whatever he is capable of doing .

I should have known better.

I answered.

"Clara."

His voice was calm. Too calm.

"Damon."

"I've been thinking about you."

I said nothing.

"I've been thinking about what you did. What he did. What all of you did to me."

"It's over, Damon."

"Is it?" He laughed softly. "You destroyed my life. You humiliated me in front of everyone I know. You slept with my father. And you think it's over?"

I felt my chest tighten.

"What do you want?"

"I want to talk. Just you and me. No Elias. No lawyers. No cameras."

"I'm not meeting you."

"You'll want to." He paused. "Because I have something you need to hear. Something about your mother."

I went cold.

My mother had been dead for eleven years. She'd died when I was seventeen, after a long illness that no one could explain. I'd never questioned it. I'd never looked deeper.

But I'd always felt like there was more to the story.

"What about my mother?"

"I'll tell you in person."

"Tell me now."

"No." His voice was firm. "You come to me. Tomorrow. The old cabin by the lake. You remember it."

I did remember it. It was a place we used to go when we were first dating. A quiet, secluded spot in the woods where no one could find us.

"Noon," he said. "Come alone."

The line went dead.

I called Elias.

He answered on the first ring.

"What's wrong?"

I told him about the call. Every word.

"Don't go," he said.

"He said he knows something about my mother."

"He's lying."

"Maybe." I paused. "But I have to find out."

"Then I'm coming with you."

"No."

"Clara—"

"Please." My voice was quiet but firm. "I need to do this alone."

There was a long silence.

"Alright," he said finally. "But call me when you're done."

"I will."

"Clara."

"Yes?"

"Be careful."

The cabin was exactly as I remembered it.

It sat at the edge of a small lake, surrounded by pines. The wood was weathered and grey. The windows were dark. The only car in the clearing was Damon's a black SUV, freshly washed.

I parked my car beside his. I got out. I walked toward the cabin.

The door opened before I reached it.

Damon stepped out.

He looked different. Harder. Leaner. There were shadows under his eyes and a tightness in his jaw that hadn't been there before. He was wearing a black sweater and jeans. His hands were in his pockets.

"Clara," he said.

"Damon."

We stood there, five feet apart, two people who had once planned to spend their lives together.

"You look good," he said.

"I'm not here for small talk."

He smiled. It was cold and humorless. "No. I suppose you're not."

He gestured toward the cabin. "Come in."

I didn't move. "Tell me about my mother."

He studied me for a moment. Then he nodded.

"Your mother wasn't sick," he said.

I felt my blood run cold.

"What do you mean?"

"She wasn't sick," he repeated. "She was murdered."

The word hung in the air.

I couldn't breathe.

"What?"

"It was covered up. Made to look like an illness. But it wasn't." He pulled something from his pocket a folded piece of paper. "I found this in my father's study a few weeks ago. It's a letter. From your mother. To him."

He held it out.

I took it.

My hands were shaking.

I unfolded the paper.

The handwriting was familiar. I'd know it anywhere.

Elias,

I'm afraid. I've found something I shouldn't have. Something about the family. Something about the money. They know. They're coming for me.

If I don't make it, please protect Clara. She's the only thing I've ever loved.

Don't tell her the truth. Let her think it was an illness. Let her live a normal life.

I'm sorry.

I love you.

Elara

I stared at the letter.

I read it three times.

Then I looked up at Damon.

"She knew your father," I said.

"She loved him," Damon said. "They were together for years. Before he married my mother. Before he abandoned her."

I felt like the ground was opening beneath my feet.

"She was his mistress," I whispered.

"Yes." Damon's voice was flat. "And when she threatened to expose the family's secrets, she was killed. By my father's people."

The letter dropped from my hands.

I stared at him.

"Why are you telling me this?"

He stepped closer.

"Because I want you to know the truth about the man you're with," he said. "The man you love. He destroyed your mother. He destroyed my family. And he'll destroy you too."

I didn't stay to hear more.

I turned and walked back to my car. I drove away without looking back.

I drove for hours.

I didn't call Elias.

I didn't know what to say.