CHAPTER SIX: Shadows beneath the surface

Three months earlier, Zac sat in his study, the soft hum of a late evening wrapping the room. His tie hung loose around his neck, and the whiskey in his glass had gone cold.

A quiet clink broke the silence—Angelo’s glass tapping against the edge of the desk.

“Let me guess.” Angelo’s voice was easy, carrying a note of amusement. “It’s about her again.”

Zac didn’t answer right away. He just exhaled slowly, the kind that carried weight, like something he hadn’t quite put down yet.

Angelo smirked, settling deeper into his chair. “Told you she wouldn’t show up.”

Zac turned the glass in his hand, watching the liquid catch the dim light. “Yeah. You did.”

“I tried to warn you, but you were setting yourself up for disappointment.

Zac shook his head. “It wasn’t supposed to go like that.”

A silence stretched between them.

In his mind, he was still there—that night, at the candlelit table, staring at the bouquet he shouldn’t have brought, checking his phone until the screen blurred.

“I got a new phone that afternoon. My old one was ruined at the site—cracked screen, wouldn’t even turn on,” he explained, the words coming slow, carrying more weight than he was ready to admit.

Angelo tilted his head slightly, signaling for him to go on.

“I swapped the SIM immediately into the new phone,” Zac continued. “We’d been texting all day. I even sent the address.”

He let out a short laugh—one without humor. “Then she just… stopped texting and vanished.”

Angelo raised an eyebrow. “Hold on… you sat there for hours?”

Zac gave a slow nod. “Sat there like an idiot. Watching everyone else come and go.”

Angelo watched Zac for a beat before shaking his head.

“Man, that’s rough.” He took a sip, then added, “But, let’s be real. A stripper is never the type to stick around.”

Zac dragged a hand down his face, the frustration simmering into something duller. “I tried to find her, man.”

Angelo’s brows lifted. “Oh?”

“Went to her workplace. Asked around.” He let out another humorless chuckle. “Martini said she probably moved on. Found a better job. Better pay.”

Angelo scoffed. “And you believe that?”

Zac scratched his head slightly. “I didn’t know what I was thinking.” He paused. “I was stupid.”

Angelo shook his head. “Nah. You weren’t stupid. You just cared.” His voice was uncharacteristically serious. “But now? It doesn’t matter anymore.”

Zac met his eyes, something unspoken settling between them. “Yeah.”

Angelo cleared his throat. “So. Are you going to give Bella a chance now?”

But Zac didn’t answer.

****************

Back in the present, Zac sat with Angelo in the same spot where months ago, he’d nursed the sting of Mia ghosting him.

“Do you remember the day I told you about my first love?”

Angelo glanced up, smirking as he swirled his drink. “You mean the stripper?”

Zac exhaled sharply. “Her name was—” He paused, realizing the complications it could cause if he said it out loud.

Angelo leaned back, stretching out his legs. “Whatever her name was. Why bring her up now?”

“You know the private investigator I hired never found her,” Zac admitted, breaking the silence.

Angelo nearly choked on his drink. He set the glass down, laughing. “Wait—hold on. You actually went full detective mode? And you never told me?”

Zac gave him a look, unimpressed. “Would you have let me hear the end of it?”

“Hell no,” Angelo admitted, still grinning.

“So, have you found her?” Angelo pressed.

Zac hesitated, the memory of Tiffany—the stripper-turned-cook—clashing with his current life. But who was he to judge her over a relationship she never wanted?

“Now? She’s… in the past. And I don’t regret my choice.”

“Thank God!” Angelo sighed in relief, raising his glass in a mock toast. “To Bella, then.”

Zac hesitated, then clinked his glass against Angelo’s. “To Bella,” he repeated, even though the words felt forced.

*******************

In the kitchen, Mia worked with practiced precision, her knife moving in a steady rhythm, each slice mirroring the tightness coiling inside her. From the dining room, Bella’s voice drifted through the halls—sweet on the surface, but edged with a sharpness Mia had come to recognize.

“You should take a break this weekend,” Bella suggested lightly. “Just us at The Sagamore Resort… it’s been too long.”

“I’m not going, Bella,” Zac’s voice responded, flat and distant, as if he were saying the words just to say them.

“It’s always too much with you.” Bella snapped in frustration. “You never create time for me.”

Zac sighed, his voice softer now. “It’s not that. The project launch, the anniversary dinner… everything’s hitting at once. I need to stay focused.”

“Yeah, right,” Bella retorted, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “And I’m just supposed to pretend I have no man in my life?”

Zac didn’t respond. Then Mia heard a chair scrape against the floor.

“Fine,” Bella said coolly. “If you don’t care, I’ll go alone.”

Moments later, Bella’s footsteps echoed up the staircase as she left the room, leaving Zac behind.

Mia kept her hands moving, but she could feel it—the weight in Zac’s silence. She took a step toward the dining area to sneak a peek but Zac caught her shadow.

“Tiffany?”

“Yes, Sir?” Mia straightened.

“What are you doing here?” Zac asked, barely looking up from his laptop as though he was ignoring her gaze.

“I was about to serve dessert,” she answered carefully. “We made Madam Bella’s favorite.”

Zac nodded, a hint of acknowledgment in his eyes. “Yeah, but forget it. She won’t be needing that anymore… so if you’d excuse me.”

Without another word, he pushed his chair back and stood, already moving toward the stairs.

“Belle? Please wait!”

Mia watched as he went after Bella, leaving her standing there, gripping the counter like it was the only thing keeping her grounded.

It shouldn’t have mattered. It shouldn’t have hurt.

But the hollow ache in her chest told her otherwise.

*************************************

A week had passed since Bella left for her vacation, and the house had settled into a strange peacefulness. It wasn’t just the absence of noise—it was the absence of her presence, a relief Mia hadn’t realized she needed.

Yet, the quietness did little to ease her growing anxiety.

She was in the kitchen, lost in the rhythm of chopping vegetables, when Angelo strolled in, rolling up his sleeves like he belonged there. Without hesitation, he reached for a handful of diced carrots from her cutting board, popping one into his mouth with a grin.

“Need a hand?” he asked, his tone light and familiar.

“No, I’m good.” Mia shook her head, trying to push him away. “Shouldn’t you be with Sir Zac?”

Angelo shrugged, leaning back against the counter. “Zac’s perfectly capable of brooding on his own. Besides, I’d rather be here… you’re far more interesting.”

Mia glanced away, unsure how to respond. His presence was a complication she couldn’t afford, yet there was a comfort in the way he treated her like a person, not just another staff member.

“You’re awfully nosy, Angelo,” she said, allowing a small smile to curve her lips.

“I call it curiosity,” he countered smoothly. “So, Tiffany, tell me—why work as a household cook? A job like this doesn’t exactly scream lifelong ambition.”

“Yes, I know, but right now… it pays my bills.”

“Hmm… how about we discuss that over dinner tomorrow evening? I can help you find better job offers, you know.”

Before she could respond, the sound of footsteps interrupted them. Both turned to see Zac standing in the doorway, his expression sharp and unreadable as usual.

“Angelo,” Zac said, his tone clipped. “You seem to have a habit of being where you shouldn’t.”

Angelo straightened, completely unfazed. “I was only keeping her company.”

Zac’s gaze shifted to Mia, lingering just long enough to make her uncomfortable. This time, she thought she caught something in his gaze—sharp, possessive, and fleeting.

“She’s not here for chitchat, Angelo,” Zac said evenly. “If you wish to work in my kitchen, you can also email your CV.”

Angelo smirked, pushing himself off the counter. “Alright, boss, message received.” He turned to Mia with a conspiratorial tone. “Hey, Tiffany, 5 p.m. tomorrow, okay?”

With a wink, he strolled out, leaving behind a thick silence.

Zac stepped deeper into the kitchen, his presence commanding even without words. “The head cook called in sick. You’ll need to cover a double shift tomorrow night.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll be here.” Mia nodded, quick to respond.

As soon as Zac left the kitchen, Mia exhaled slowly, staring at the coffee machine. She had no idea how Zac took his coffee. And if she messed it up… well, she didn’t want to think about that.

*********

Later that night, as Mia prepared to leave the estate, her phone buzzed. Glancing at the screen, she saw Xiang’s name flash across the display.

She quickly stepped into the staff bathroom, closing the door behind her.

“You’ve been there for weeks now, yet we have nothing to show for it,” Xiang’s voice cut through the line, sharp and impatient. “What’s taking so long?”

Mia gripped the sink, steadying herself. “I’m working on it, boss,” she said quickly. “Zac’s not someone you can just get close to—he’s careful. I just need more—”

“Time isn’t a luxury we have,” Xiang interrupted. “It seems you’ve forgotten the reason your mother is still unharmed.”

“I understand.” Mia’s response came in quick gasps.

“If I don’t get something by tomorrow,Mia, you’ll find out just how serious I am.”

The line went dead, but Mia stood there, staring at her phone, its silence pressing heavily on her.

The pressure was suffocating. Every day pulled her deeper into the web she’d spun, and the way out… it was slipping further out of reach.