Ch-37

•~•Solane’s POV

I jolted awake with a sharp gasp, my chest rising and falling as I sucked in air like I had been drowning.

My heart thudded violently as my eyes flew to my side. Nathaniel was still there, though asleep now, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm.

I sat up quickly, scanning the room. Melissa wasn’t here.

A breath rushed out of me. Just a dream.

It was just a dream, I repeated in my head like it was some sort of reassurance.

I placed a hand over my racing heart, trying to calm the pounding. There’s no way Melissa knows. She couldn’t have figured it out… not yet.

I slipped out of bed, my feet sinking into the plush carpet, and moved toward the standing garment rack beside the walk-in closet.

I grabbed the soft, velvet robe hanging on it and quickly wrapped it around myself.

Afterward, I went back to pick up my phone from the nightstand, its screen lighting up my palm, and then slipped quietly out of the room.

The hallway was dim, silent—everyone else was asleep.

Except maybe Davian.

My heart pounded again, this time for a different reason—anxiety.

I stopped in front of the door to the room he was staying in, hesitating as I raised my hand, ready to knock.

My mind raced—should I go through with this? Should I ask him directly? Would he still pretend not to know me if it were just the two of us?

Or what if it turned out he actually didn’t recognize me and wasn’t the anonymous caller?

Then what?...What excuse would I give for showing up at his door in the middle of the night?

I slowly lowered my hand.

I should go back. The risks were too high. I’d find another way to get my answers.

But just as I turned, the door swung open.

I flinched slightly, stepping back. Davian stood there in gray pajamas, a smug look already spreading across his face.

“I was starting to think you were waiting for me to come to you instead,” he said casually, his tone a sharp contrast to the respectful, formal way he had spoken to me yesterday afternoon.

It only confirmed my thoughts—he recognized me but had pretended not to.

He glanced left and right down the hallway, then stepped aside. “Come in.”

I hesitated for a moment, but my feet moved anyway.

The room was simple, neat, and smelled faintly of expensive cologne.

Davian closed the door behind me, leaning against it with a tired sigh.

“Have a seat,” he said, motioning to the edge of the bed. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

I didn’t sit. “Are you the one who called me?” I asked quietly. “The anonymous caller... is it you?”

He frowned. “Anonymous caller? Sounds like you’ve got yourself a stalker.”

Confusion spread across my face. “If you're not the one who called me, then why are you here... in the Grants mansion?”

He chuckled low, almost mockingly. “Firstly, I don’t know who called you, but it sure isn’t me.” He paused before adding, “As for why I’m here, Ms. Irene—or should I say Solane, since that’s the name you go by now?...”

“...I’m here to make sure your husband gets to walk again.”

I clenched my jaw, forcing myself to maintain my composure.

“Then why did you act like you didn’t know me in front of Melissa and Nathaniel?”

He shrugged. “Because it seemed like that’s what you wanted. You should’ve seen the look on your face.” He chuckled.

“You looked like a deer caught in headlights when you saw me. And the way your hand trembled during our handshake…”

He exhaled, smirking. "When I came back from Switzerland and Melissa told me she had her son marry Zane Lancaster’s niece, I thought, 'What? Zane doesn’t have a niece.' ”

“...Then I thought, well, maybe he does, and I didn’t know about her. But then she dropped the bomb—said you died five years ago. I thought, nope… something doesn’t add up.”

"It’s only been four years since you had your parents fire me from continuing your treatment after I asked you out…So how could you have died five years ago? My mind was racing, like, did I treat a ghost?”

He paused, a flicker of amusement in his eyes. “But hey, it’s good to see you alive and well, standing on your own two feet. Last time we met, that wasn’t the case, was it, Ms. Irene?”

“Are you done?” I asked flatly, raising an eyebrow.

He definitely couldn't be the anonymous caller. The caller had sounded calculated, mature, and purposeful—everything Davian wasn’t.

Listening to him now, he just came across as a moron, incapable of executing anything remotely tactical.

He blinked, a flash of offense crossing his face, before he scoffed. "Come on, you can't still be this touchy after four years."

"What are you really doing here? And how do you know Melissa Grant?" I asked, crossing my arms over my chest.

“We go way back," he replied, his voice casual as he took a slow step toward me.

I instinctively stepped back, feeling the foot of the bed bump against my legs. My chest tightened, and I could feel my heart rate quicken.

He stopped, just two steps away. “But I think I should be the one asking the questions here… don’t you think?”

I didn’t answer, but the tension in my shoulders gave away my discomfort, and I took a slow, deliberate breath to steady myself.

“So,” he began, “why are you married to Nathaniel Grant under a fake identity?”

“It’s not fake,” I snapped.

“Then what do you call pretending to be someone you're not around others?”

I let out an exasperated sigh, rubbing my temples like I could massage the weight of the truth away.

“Solane Blackwood…was the name of my late cousin. She died a long time ago.”

Davian’s brows lifted, his voice sharpening. “So you stole your late cousin’s identity just to marry into the Grant family?”

He let out a low laugh that held no humor. “Now I get it. I always wondered why you underwent facial reconstruction surgery…”

“...I thought it was just because of how badly your face got scarred from falling off that cliff… but now I see it was all for something else. Something much more devious.”

I stiffened. “That’s not why I did it.”

“Then why?” he asked, tilting his head. “What reason?”

Silence hung between us for a little while before I spoke, “I came to see if you recognized me. Now that I know…” 

“Just keep your mouth shut and stick to the act of not knowing who I really am.” I added then turned to step past him, but he blocked my way.

He scoffed. “You rich folks are really something…Thinking you can just give orders and expect everyone to obey like mindless drones.”

I stood my ground, a slight frown forming. “What do you want, then, Davian?”

“The truth,” he said, his voice steady. “I want the truth. Why did you marry Nathaniel Grant under a fake—sorry, your late cousin’s identity?”