Chapter 5 – The Weight of Secrets

Chapter 5 – The Weight of Secrets

(Althea’s POV)

Morning light streamed weakly through the sheer curtains of our suite the same suite Damian and I had checked into the night before the retreat began. But now, it felt cold. Hollow. As if the warmth that once lingered there had been swallowed whole by silence.

He wasn’t beside me when I woke up.

That wasn’t unusual. Damian was always up before dawn, already answering calls, diving into spreadsheets, making the world turn for everyone but me. But today, that silence carried something else distance.

I pulled the blanket around myself and glanced toward the table. His phone lay there, face down. A rare sight. Damian never left it unattended. My chest tightened as I traced my fingers over the surface. The screen lit up briefly with a message notification.

> Samantha: I’ve reviewed the projections. You were right. Let’s discuss it before lunch.

A faint ache bloomed behind my ribs. He’d said he was meeting the board all morning. Of course he was. Discuss projections, revenue models, expansions. The same language they always used to disguise something more personal.

I put the phone back down gently, forcing my hands to stop shaking. I didn’t want to be that woman the one who checks her husband’s messages in search of proof. I wanted to be the one he trusted, the one he chose.

But lately, even that word chose felt uncertain.

I dressed carefully, hiding my exhaustion behind a soft beige dress and a tied scarf around my neck. At least the scarf could hide the bruise I hadn’t noticed until this morning the faint mark along my collarbone, shaped by a night I still tried to convince myself was with him.

The memory flickered like smoke warmth, lips, whispered words that didn’t sound like Damian’s usual tone. Softer. Unfamiliar.

I shook the thought away. It had to be him. It had to.

The resort’s garden sparkled under the morning sun. The staff had already begun setting up tables for brunch, and several executives mingled near the terrace. I took my place near the end of the table where Marketing usually sat, trying to appear composed.

I saw him then Damian. Perfectly pressed suit, distant eyes, that quiet authority that commanded the room without effort.

“Mrs. Navarro,” one of the finance heads greeted politely as he passed.

I smiled faintly, though my heart clenched. If only you knew.

He looked at me briefly, offering a small nod before turning to speak with Samantha, who stood close beside him too close. Her manicured hand brushed his sleeve lightly as she handed him some reports. The gesture was subtle, intimate in its precision.

I forced my gaze elsewhere.

By mid-afternoon, meetings began in the resort’s main conference room. I sat through endless presentations profit margins, client retention, new ad strategies words I had once loved, now hollow echoes against the walls.

When my turn came to present, I stood, steadying my breathing.

“Our latest campaign boosted our reach by 14%,” I began, projecting my slides. “The digital engagement metrics—”

“—Were slightly underperforming in regions B and D,” Samantha interrupted from across the table, not even glancing at me.

I froze, lips parting. “Excuse me?”

She looked up finally, a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “I just meant… perhaps if the visuals had been more dynamic, we’d have seen stronger engagement. But I suppose not everyone reads analytics the same way.”

A few executives exchanged uncomfortable glances. Damian didn’t say anything. He didn’t even look at me.

The humiliation from yesterday clawed its way back Celine’s mocking tone, the laughter of colleagues, now this.

I inhaled slowly. “The visuals were approved by the board,” I said evenly. “Including you, Samantha.”

That earned a few quiet chuckles around the room. Samantha’s smile faltered for a second, but she recovered quickly.

Damian finally looked up, his voice calm but clipped. “Let’s stay on topic.”

That was all. No defense. No subtle acknowledgment that I had done my job right.

Just an order to stay on topic.

I sat back down, pressing my hands together under the table so no one would see them tremble.

After the meeting, I walked toward the balcony overlooking the resort’s cliffs. The sea breeze hit me hard, cool and cleansing, like the world’s quiet apology.

“You handled that better than most would,” a voice said behind me.

I turned. Darius stood there, his hands in his pockets, casual in a white shirt with the top buttons undone. The sunlight caught the sharp lines of his face the same face as Damian’s, but warmer. Softer. More human.

“I didn’t realize anyone was watching,” I said, my voice more defensive than I intended.

He smiled faintly. “When someone tries to belittle you in a room full of people, it’s hard not to notice.”

My pulse quickened. “That’s not what happened. It was a discussion.”

“Was it?” He tilted his head, studying me. “Because from where I stood, it looked like a woman trying to make you small in front of the man you’re trying to prove yourself to.”

His words struck something raw. I looked away. “You shouldn’t speak like that. It’s not professional.”

“I’m not your colleague, Althea,” he said gently. “Just an observer.”

His use of my name made my breath catch. “Then maybe you should stop observing me.”

He smiled again, a touch of sadness in his eyes. “If I could, I would.”

Before I could reply, footsteps echoed behind us Damian’s voice, cool and measured. “Darius.”

I turned sharply. The contrast between them hit me again — same features, but a world apart. Damian’s gaze flickered to me briefly, unreadable. “You’re needed at the lower deck. One of the managers requested you.”

Darius gave a small nod, then looked at me once more. “Enjoy the view, Mrs. Navarro.”

The way he said it soft, deliberate sent a shiver through me.

Damian waited until he left, then turned to me. “You shouldn’t spend time alone with him.”

I frowned. “Excuse me?”

“He’s… not like me,” he said, his tone tight. “Don’t mistake his charm for sincerity.”

I crossed my arms, heart pounding. “Funny, you never seem to care who I talk to. Why start now?”

He met my gaze, something flickering behind his eyes. “Because he doesn’t understand boundaries.”

“Boundaries?” I repeated softly. “You mean like the ones you have with Samantha?”

That hit him. His jaw clenched.

“You’re crossing a line,” he said, voice low.

“So are you,” I whispered.

For a long moment, we just stood there the air heavy, words unsaid pressing between us like glass.

Then he turned and walked away.

That night, I sat by the window of our room, the world outside quiet and silver under the moonlight.

I couldn’t stop thinking about Darius the way he looked at me, the gentleness in his voice, the haunting familiarity that shouldn’t exist.

Every memory from that night replayed over and over flashes of touch, heat, a voice whispering my name differently, almost reverently.

It didn’t make sense. Damian had been distant before the retreat, but that night, the man who held me had felt present. Alive.

And yet… when I saw Darius this morning, my heart had reacted the same way it had that night.

It was impossible. It had to be Damian.

Didn’t it?

I pressed a hand to my chest, trying to steady my breathing. The reflection in the glass stared back — tired eyes, lips trembling with truths I couldn’t yet name.

The retreat was supposed to strengthen the company.

Instead, it was breaking me apart.

And deep down, I knew this was only the beginning.