The Woman Before Me

 

Riva stared at the photograph.

For several seconds, she forgot how to breathe.

The woman in the picture couldn't have been more than twenty-five.

She was beautiful.

Not in the delicate, harmless way that made people look twice and forget them afterward.

She had the kind of beauty that demanded attention.

Dark hair.

Sharp eyes.

A faint smile that looked almost arrogant.

And beside her—

Ares.

Younger.

Colder.

But unmistakably him.

His hand rested at the woman's waist.

The same black suit.

The same watch.

The same expression that made every room seem to belong to him.

Except his eyes.

Riva knew those eyes now.

This photograph had been taken before she had ever known him.

And there was something in his expression she had never seen directed at anyone else.

Possession.

Not affection.

Not tenderness.

Possession.

Her fingers tightened around the phone.

The message remained on the screen.

SHE DIDN'T SURVIVE THE DEBT.

Riva's throat closed.

Another message appeared.

ASK HIM ABOUT MAYA.

She stared at the name.

Maya.

Then another message.

ASK HIM WHY HE NEVER TOLD YOU.

Riva looked toward the corridor.

Ares was still gone.

She should have waited.

She should have confronted him.

Instead, something darker took over.

She needed answers.

Now.

Riva slipped the phone into her pocket and walked toward the medical room.

She heard voices before she reached it.

Ares.

His security chief.

And the old man.

She stopped outside the half-open door.

“Where did you find him?” Ares demanded.

“Near the east gate.”

“Alone?”

“Yes.”

“Any weapons?”

“No.”

“Phone?”

“Nothing.”

Ares was silent.

Then the old man's weak voice came through.

“You're asking the wrong questions, boy.”

Riva froze.

Ares stepped closer to the bed.

“Then tell me the right ones.”

The old man laughed softly.

“You still have your father's temper.”

“And you still have his habit of speaking in riddles.”

A pause.

Then—

“You've become exactly like him.”

Ares's voice turned colder.

“Don't compare me to my father.”

“Why?”

“Because I know what he did.”

The old man smiled.

“You know what he allowed you to know.”

Riva's pulse quickened.

Ares leaned closer.

“What do you know about Riva's father?”

“Everything.”

“Where is he?”

The old man's eyes moved toward the door.

Straight toward Riva.

She stepped inside.

Ares turned.

His expression changed instantly.

“Riva.”

She held up her phone.

“Who's Maya?”

Silence.

The security chief looked at Ares.

The old man smiled.

Ares's face became unreadable.

“Where did you hear that name?”

“Answer me.”

“Riva.”

“Was she your wife?”

Ares didn't speak.

That was enough.

Riva felt something inside her crack.

“You were married.”

“Yes.”

The word was quiet.

Too quiet.

She swallowed.

“How long?”

“Eight months.”

“When did she die?”

Ares's jaw tightened.

“Eleven years ago.”

Riva's heart stopped.

Eleven years.

The same year her father disappeared.

The same year her mother died.

The same year everything in her life had been torn apart.

She laughed once.

It sounded nothing like laughter.

“You were married to her eleven years ago.”

“Yes.”

“And you married me.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Ares took one step toward her.

“Because the circumstances weren't what you think.”

“Then explain them.”

“I will.”

“Now.”

His gaze hardened.

“Not here.”

“Why? Because your dead wife might hear us?”

“Riva.”

“No.”

She pointed toward the photograph.

“Tell me about her.”

Ares looked at the image.

Something flickered across his face.

Pain.

Real pain.

And that made Riva angrier.

Because she had never seen it.

Not when he married her.

Not when he touched her.

Not when she cried.

Not when she begged him for answers.

He had never looked at her like that.

“Her name was Maya Kapoor.”

The old man suddenly spoke.

“No.”

Everyone turned.

His face had gone pale.

Ares frowned.

“You know her?”

The old man shook his head.

“Not Maya.”

He looked directly at Riva.

“The girl in that photograph wasn't Maya.”

Riva's skin prickled.

“What?”

Ares stepped toward him.

“Then who was she?”

The old man looked at Riva.

“Someone they wanted you to believe was your predecessor.”

Riva stared.

The photograph trembled in her hand.

“Then who was she?”

The old man didn't answer.

Ares's security chief stepped forward.

“Sir.”

Ares turned.

“What?”

“We found something else.”

He handed Ares a small plastic evidence bag.

Inside was a silver pendant.

Riva's breath caught.

She knew it.

She had seen it in her mother's old belongings.

A small silver lotus.

Her mother had worn it every day.

After her death, it had disappeared.

Riva stepped closer.

“Where did you find that?”

“On the man.”

She looked at the old man.

He smiled.

“Your mother gave it to me.”

Riva's face went white.

“My mother knew you?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

The old man looked at Ares.

Then back at Riva.

“She asked me to keep you safe.”

Riva couldn't speak.

Her mother.

Alive in the man's memories.

Not as a photograph.

Not as a grieving story.

As a woman who had made plans.

A woman who knew something was coming.

A woman who had trusted this stranger.

“Did she know my father was going to disappear?”

“Yes.”

Riva's voice broke.

“Did she know she was going to die?”

The old man's expression softened.

“Yes.”

Riva stepped backward.

“No.”

“She knew.”

“No.”

“She left you a message.”

Ares immediately turned.

“What message?”

The old man smiled faintly.

“She said you would ask that question exactly like your mother.”

Riva's eyes filled.

“What did she say?”

The old man reached beneath his pillow.

He pulled out a folded piece of paper.

Ares moved first.

But the old man held it out to Riva.

“For you.”

Her hands shook as she took it.

The paper was old.

Yellowed.

The handwriting was unmistakable.

Her mother's.

Riva unfolded it.

Only one sentence had been written.

If Ares ever loves you, trust him—but never trust the man who made the debt.

Riva stared at the words.

Ares read them over her shoulder.

His expression changed.

“Who made the debt?” he asked.

The old man closed his eyes.

“The man you were both born to fear.”

Ares's voice dropped.

“Name him.”

The old man didn't respond.

Ares grabbed his shoulder.

“Name him.”

The old man's eyes opened.

“Devraj.”

Riva frowned.

The name meant nothing.

Ares froze.

Completely.

The old man noticed.

“You know him.”

Ares's face had drained of color.

“Where did you hear that name?”

“Your father used to say it.”

“What did he say?”

“That one day Devraj would come back for the girl.”

Riva's heart pounded.

“What girl?”

The old man's eyes settled on her.

“You.”

Silence.

Ares stepped between them.

“Where is he?”

“Closer than you think.”

“Where?”

The old man smiled.

Then blood suddenly appeared at the corner of his mouth.

Ares caught him.

“Hey.”

The man's body convulsed.

“Get the doctor!”

The security chief ran.

Riva stood frozen.

Ares pressed his hand against the man's chest.

“Stay with me.”

The old man gripped Ares's wrist.

His eyes were wide.

“Don't…”

Ares leaned closer.

“Don't what?”

“Don't let her…”

The old man coughed.

Blood stained his lips.

“...go to the lake.”

Ares went still.

“What lake?”

The man's eyes shifted toward Riva.

“The lake house.”

Then his hand fell.

The room erupted into movement.

The doctor rushed in.

Ares stepped aside.

Riva couldn't move.

The lake house.

She knew that place.

Her father had owned a property near a secluded lake.

They hadn't gone there since she was a child.

Her mother had called it their summer house.

Her father had called it their safest place.

Riva suddenly remembered something.

A locked room.

A red door.

She had been forbidden from opening it.

Always.

Her father's exact words came back to her.

There are some rooms that should stay closed.

Ares looked at her.

“What are you thinking?”

“The lake house.”

His expression changed.

“No.”

“My father may be there.”

“No.”

“You heard him.”

“I heard him.”

“Then we're going.”

Ares walked toward her.

“You're not going anywhere.”

“You can't stop me.”

“Yes, I can.”

“Try.”

His eyes darkened.

“Riva.”

She stepped closer.

“You've spent our entire marriage deciding what I'm allowed to know.”

“I've spent it keeping you alive.”

“And your dead wife?”

His face tightened.

“She has nothing to do with this.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

“Then tell me why the woman in that photograph was wearing the same ring.”

Ares stared at her.

“I don't know.”

“Then we're going to find out.”

He looked at her for a long moment.

Then he reached into his pocket.

Pulled out his keys.

“Get your coat.”

Riva blinked.

“What?”

“We're going.”

She hadn't expected that.

“Just like that?”

“No.”

His expression was grim.

“We're not going to the lake house to find your father.”

“Then why?”

Ares looked directly into her eyes.

“We're going to find out who has been using that house.”

---

The drive took less than an hour.

Neither of them spoke.

Rain began tapping against the windshield.

Riva sat beside him, watching the road disappear beneath the headlights.

She kept thinking about the photograph.

Maya.

The woman who supposedly existed before her.

The woman who supposedly died eleven years ago.

The woman who wore the same ring.

Finally, she couldn't take the silence.

“Did you love her?”

Ares's hands tightened around the steering wheel.

“No.”

The answer came immediately.

Too immediately.

Riva looked at him.

“You hesitated.”

“I didn't.”

“You did.”

“I loved someone else.”

Her heart stopped.

“Who?”

He looked at her.

“You.”

Riva's breath caught.

He turned his eyes back to the road.

“I just didn't know it then.”

She looked away.

That answer shouldn't have made her feel better.

It did.

Which made her angry.

“You're still not telling me the whole truth.”

“I know.”

“You're going to.”

“Yes.”

“When?”

“When we're somewhere safe.”

She almost laughed.

“We're going to a house where my supposedly dead father may be hiding, where someone has apparently been monitoring me since I was seventeen, and where a mysterious man just told us not to go.”

Ares's mouth curved faintly.

“Exactly.”

“You're insane.”

“Probably.”

The lake appeared through the trees.

Black water.

Still.

Too still.

Ares slowed the car.

The house stood at the end of the private road.

Dark.

Abandoned.

But Riva noticed something immediately.

One upstairs window was lit.

Her heart slammed against her ribs.

“Ares.”

He saw it.

His entire posture changed.

He reached for the gun beneath his jacket.

“Stay in the car.”

“No.”

“Riva.”

“The light is on.”

“I see it.”

“My father could be inside.”

“We don't know who's inside.”

“Exactly.”

She opened the door.

Ares cursed under his breath and followed.

They approached the house.

The front door was unlocked.

Riva pushed it open.

Dust covered everything.

Except the floor.

There were fresh footprints.

Leading upstairs.

Ares raised his weapon.

Riva stayed behind him.

One step.

Then another.

They reached the red door.

The door she had been forbidden to open as a child.

Riva stared at it.

Her hand trembled.

Ares noticed.

“You've seen this before.”

“When I was little.”

“What's behind it?”

“I don't know.”

He tried the handle.

Locked.

Riva pulled the brass key from her pocket.

The one marked seventeen.

Ares looked at it.

“Where did you get that?”

“The library.”

He stared.

Then stepped aside.

“Open it.”

The key slid into the lock.

Click.

The door opened.

Inside was a small room.

No furniture.

No windows.

Only photographs covering every wall.

Riva stepped inside.

Then stopped.

Every photograph was of her.

Five years old.

Ten.

Thirteen.

Seventeen.

Eighteen.

Twenty.

Twenty-one.

Twenty-two.

Her life.

Years of photographs.

Thousands of them.

Ares entered behind her.

His face became murderous.

“Someone has been watching you.”

Riva couldn't answer.

Then she saw the largest photograph.

It was recent.

Taken only weeks ago.

She and Ares were standing outside their wedding venue.

But there was something written across the bottom.

THE TRANSFER IS COMPLETE.

Ares moved closer.

Below it was another line.

Written in red.

NOW TAKE HER TO HIM.

Riva's heart stopped.

“To whom?”

Ares didn't answer.

A sound came from behind the wall.

Three knocks.

Slow.

Deliberate.

Riva turned.

Ares raised his gun.

Another three knocks.

Then a voice came through the wall.

A man's voice.

Familiar.

Impossible.

Riva's knees nearly gave way.

Ares went completely still.

The voice spoke again.

“Riva.”

She covered her mouth.

It was her father.

“It's time you came home.”