Chapter 3 – The Stranger’s Eyes

Chapter 3 – The Stranger’s Eyes

Althea Rivera’s POV

The bus wound through a serpentine road surrounded by towering pines and slopes bathed in gold. The air smelled of salt and pine sap, thick with the promise of something unfamiliar. Everyone was buzzing with chatter, but I sat quietly by the window, the sound of laughter behind me blending into a blur.

It had been a long week. Meetings, reports, sleepless nights and Damian, as usual, had been more ghost than husband. He said he’d follow on a private flight; appearances had to be maintained. Always appearances.

I ran a thumb over the simple silver ring on my chain, hidden beneath my blouse. It was all I could wear of our marriage. No one could know.

When the bus finally pulled into the resort gates, everyone gasped. Navarro Haven Resort stretched like a painting come to life endless blue pools glimmering beneath the sun, villas tucked into the hillside, and glass buildings that seemed to float over water. It was perfection. Expensive, curated perfection.

The staff welcomed us with gentle smiles and glasses of citrus water. I stepped off the bus, my heels clicking against the marble walkway, and felt my heart tighten. Damian’s family wealth was always something distant numbers, reports, and occasional news articles. But standing here, I could see what power looked like.

“Ms. Rivera,” a staff member said, bowing slightly, “Mr. Darius Navarro will meet you in the main hall shortly. He’ll be overseeing your check-in personally.”

“Darius Navarro,” I repeated softly, the name strange on my tongue. I’d known Damian for years, but he’d never once mentioned a twin brother.

When I entered the grand lobby, sunlight streamed through high glass ceilings, reflecting off marble floors. And then I saw him.

For a moment, my breath caught.

He stood near the reception counter, speaking to one of the staff — tall, sharply built, and effortlessly poised. At first glance, I thought it was Damian. The same dark hair, the same angular jaw, even the same air of quiet confidence. But as he turned, the illusion broke.

His eyes.

Damian’s eyes were cold, restrained calculating. But this man’s eyes were alive. Warm, unreadable, filled with something that felt like mischief and melancholy intertwined.

When his gaze met mine, a jolt ran through me.

“You must be Althea Rivera,” he said, his voice low and smooth, carrying a faint lilt that Damian never had. “Head of Marketing for Navarro Enterprises.”

“Yes,” I managed, forcing my composure. “And you must be Mr. Navarro.”

He smiled faintly. “Please Darius. ‘Mr. Navarro’ feels too formal when my twin brother already hoards that title.”

Twin. The confirmation should have eased me, but instead it unsettled something deep within.

He extended a hand. I hesitated before shaking it. His touch was warm grounding yet the weight of it lingered long after.

“Welcome to Haven,” he said softly. “I hope our resort helps you unwind. You look like someone who hasn’t taken a breath in months.”

I let out a small laugh, trying to deflect. “You’re not wrong about that.”

His smile deepened, as though he could sense the truth behind my laugh.

After a few more pleasantries, he personally escorted our group through the sprawling property. As he spoke, I couldn’t help comparing him to Damian. Same face, same voice and yet, everything about Darius was lighter. Freer. Where Damian spoke in directives, Darius spoke in poetry.

And that difference unsettled me the most.

By evening, the resort buzzed with excitement. Colleagues mingled in the outdoor lounge for the welcome dinner. Strings of golden lights glittered above the poolside terrace, and laughter rippled through the night air.

I sat at the far end of the long dining table, nursing a glass of champagne, pretending to enjoy the scene. Samantha, of course, sat beside Damian or rather, his empty seat, waiting for him. He hadn’t arrived yet.

“Looks like someone’s missing,” Julian teased from beside me, nodding toward the seat with Damian’s name card.

“He’s probably flying in late,” I replied, swirling the champagne in my glass.

As the night wore on, I excused myself to get some air. The moon was rising over the water, painting everything silver. I wandered through the path that led toward the villas, my heels clicking softly.

“Beautiful night,” came a voice behind me.

I turned and froze.

Darius.

He stood a few feet away, hands in his pockets, his shirt sleeves rolled to his elbows. The moonlight kissed his skin, tracing the faint scar on his jaw. For a fleeting second, my mind betrayed me. Damian?

But no his posture, his smile, his eyes all wrong.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said, stepping closer. “I just saw you walk off alone. I figured maybe you needed company.”

“I’m fine,” I replied, though my voice betrayed a tremor I hoped he didn’t catch.

He studied me for a moment. “You remind me of someone,” he murmured.

I looked away. “Your brother, perhaps?”

He chuckled softly. “No. Someone else.”

There was something in his tone a quiet sorrow, like a man who’d lost something long ago.

We ended up walking along the path toward the cliffside balcony that overlooked the ocean. I didn’t know why I stayed. Maybe it was the champagne, maybe the night air, or maybe the fact that, for once, someone was actually seeing me not as a subordinate, not as a secret, but as a person.

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” Darius said after a pause. “Damian speaks highly of your work.”

I let out a small, humorless laugh. “Work is the only thing he ever talks about.”

His brow arched. “You sound… familiar with him.”

My heart stuttered. “I’ve worked closely with him for years. It’s hard not to be.”

Darius smiled faintly, though his eyes said something else suspicion? Curiosity? I couldn’t tell.

“Damian and I haven’t spoken much in a long time,” he said quietly. “We built our lives separately. But you you look at me like you’re searching for him.”

The words hit too close. I looked down at my glass, unable to speak.

He chuckled softly, taking my silence as confirmation. “Don’t worry. It happens often. People mistake us all the time.”

When I finally looked up, his gaze had softened. “You don’t have to hide whatever it is you’re feeling, Althea.”

My breath caught. “And what do you think I’m feeling?”

“Lonely,” he said simply.

The truth sat heavy between us.

The sea wind blew against my hair, and I turned toward the horizon, blinking away the sting in my eyes. “You shouldn’t say things like that, Mr. Navarro.”

He stepped closer, his voice barely above a whisper. “Then stop looking at me like you wish I were someone else.”

The words broke something inside me.

I wanted to walk away, but my body betrayed me frozen, torn between guilt and gravity. His hand brushed mine briefly, and in that small, electrifying touch, I felt all the years of restraint crumble.

The rest of the night blurred laughter from the distant terrace, the taste of wine, the dizzying sound of waves below. I didn’t know how many drinks I’d had, or at what point the world began to spin.

I only remembered his voice, soft against the rush of the ocean. “You’re trembling,” he murmured.

And then warmth. His arm around my waist, steadying me. The scent of cedar and salt. The same cologne Damian used to wear.

“Damian…” I whispered, barely aware of my own voice.

He froze.

For a moment, silence. Then his breath hitched. His hand, once steady, lingered.

“Althea,” he whispered, but his voice was different now rough, hesitant.

The world spun again. I remembered the faint glow of his eyes, the feel of his heartbeat against mine, the blur of moonlight and shadow.

And then nothing.

When I woke the next morning, sunlight poured through the villa windows, sharp and unforgiving. My head throbbed. The sheets were tangled around me, and the air smelled faintly of cedarwood.

I blinked, disoriented. For a second, I thought I was back home in Damian’s penthouse.

Then I turned and saw the man beside me.

He was asleep, the sheet draped low across his waist. His face familiar yet wrong. My breath caught, heart pounding.

It wasn’t Damian.

It was Darius.

I sat up, trembling. Memories came in broken flashes the balcony, the wine, his voice, the warmth. My stomach twisted in shock.

He stirred at the movement, his eyes fluttering open. When his gaze met mine, something unreadable flickered there guilt, confusion, maybe even regret.

“Althea,” he said quietly, his voice hoarse, “wait—”

But I was already on my feet, clutching the sheet to my chest, every nerve screaming.

“What did we do?” I whispered, barely recognizing my own voice.

He sat up slowly, running a hand through his hair. “You called me by his name,” he said softly. “You thought I was Damian.”

The words struck like lightning.

My knees weakened. I pressed a hand to my mouth, tears stinging my eyes. “Oh, God…”

He stood, his tone careful, steady. “You weren’t in your right mind, Althea. I should’ve stopped it. I’m sorry.”

His apology only deepened the ache in my chest.

I turned away, my reflection trembling in the mirror eyes red, hair tangled, guilt written across every line of my face.

“I need to leave,” I said.

He reach

ed for me but stopped short. “Please, don’t tell him,” he said quietly. “Damian doesn’t need to know.”

I met his gaze the same eyes, yet so different.