Buried truths

CHAPTER TWO

Damien

Chaos consumed the cathedral within seconds.

The orderly elegance that had existed only moments ago dissolved into frightened whispers and panicked questions.

My eyes remained fixed on the cathedral doors. Outside my guards searched for her frantically, but it was of no use. She was gone.

Sara…

The name echoed through my head until it became almost painful. No. That wasn’t possible. I had buried her.

I remembered every second of that day with terrifying clarity.

The rain that refused to stop.

The sound of soil striking polished wood as her coffin disappeared beneath it.

I’d stood there long after everyone else had left. Long after Ethan had tried convincing me to go home.

I’d buried my wife. So who had just walked into my wedding?

My breathing grew uneven as the image replayed itself again. Her black dress that molded perfectly over her curves.

Her shoulder-length chestnut hair swaying gently as she walked toward me. I almost didn’t recognize her.

Then… Her eyes. God. Those eyes.

She hadn’t changed. If anything… Time had made her even more breathtaking. Her beauty no longer carried the softness of the woman I’d married. The gentle smiles and uncertain glances had been replaced by something quieter… stronger.

Then she smiled. Not with warmth. With contempt.

A hand gripped my shoulder. Ethan, my best man who watched the whole clusterfuck from the very beginning stared at me, his face almost as pale as mine.

Neither of us spoke immediately. “Please tell me you saw her too.” I finally said.He placed one hand on my shoulder and sighed.

“I did, but if she’s alive…” Ethan said. “Where the hell has she been for three years?”

I had been asking myself the same thing since she’d walked through those doors.

Fuck. This wasn’t how I planned my day, this wasn’t how I planned my life. I never wanted to wed for a second time, but being the CEO of Blackwood Industries, I had no control over these things.

My board of directors would have a field day with this. So would my uncle.

“Damien.” Michelle’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts. She had removed her veil but was still wearing the wedding dress she’d spent months pretending mattered. There were no tears on her face.

She followed my gaze toward the entrance before speaking quietly. “So…It really was Sara.”

I nodded. Michelle managed a faint smile.

She studied my face for several long seconds.

I knew what she was about to ask, If I knew Sara was alive this whole time, she didn’t know that if I did, absolutely nothing could have made me stand here at this altar today. But one thing Michelle did know is that I would never have feelings for her, she knows this was over before it even begun.

Before either of us could speak again, another voice interrupted. Her father. Richard Carter.

His expression was thunderous.

“The ceremony isn’t over.”

“Of course it is.” I said walking towards the doors calmly.

He stepped closer. “It most certainly is not.”

“So your dead wife walks into a church…” he huffed “…and suddenly you’re prepared to throw away an alliance worth billions?”

“Mr. Carter…” I said evenly.

He jabbed a finger toward the entrance. “That woman was dead. We all saw the news.”

“And now she arrives to destroy my daughter’s wedding?” He laughed bitterly. “Or have you forgotten how she sold information to Victor Blackwood?”

Michelle visibly stiffened beside her father. Richard wasn’t finished.

“You will honor your word and go through with this wedding, Blackwood.”

I met his eyes and breathed out a laugh.

“Or what? The circumstances have changed, my wife whom I thought was dead is very much alive and since I was never divorced therefore I cannot in good faith, marry your daughter. The deal will be made another way.”

“Now, if you’ll excuse me.” I said, sidestepping him.

“You will regret this.” Richard yelled in anger.

“Dad.” Michelle’s voice cut cleanly through the tension, she ran up to me, slowly removing her engagement ring and placed it carefully into my palm. Taking a slow breath, she gave me a small smile before stepping back.

The drive back to the penthouse passed in complete silence as Ethan followed me inside.

Neither of us spoke as the elevator climbed toward the private residence. The doors slid open.

The penthouse was exactly as I’d left it.Exactly as empty.

I loosened my tie as I crossed the living room, tugging it free from around my neck before tossing it onto the sofa.

Without thinking, I walked to the bar. Crystal clinked softly beneath my fingers as I reached for the decanter. The amber scotch caught the evening light as it filled the glass.

I took one slow sip. Then another. It burned all the way down. Good.

Ethan watched me quietly. “You won’t find answers in the bottom of that glass.”

“No, but it might help me think clearly.”

I stared at the liquid swirling inside it.

I finished the drink in one swallow, and walked toward my study.

The locked drawer waited exactly where I’d left it.

The key turned. Inside rested the brown envelope.

My fingers lingered over it. Ethan sighed.

“You still keep it.”

“I need to.”

I emptied the contents across the desk. Bank records. Security reports Photographs.

Every piece of evidence pointed toward the same conclusion.

Sara had been meeting Victor Blackwood. My uncle. The man who had spent years trying to destroy me.

I picked up one photograph.

“The night I found these photographs, I buried my marriage long before I buried my wife, if I could go back in time and stopped myself from looking at them, maybe she wouldn’t have faked her death for three fucking years.” My voice barely rose above a whisper.

Ethan looked at the papers. “ Well, you can’t change the past. So what are you going to do now?”

I stared at Sara’s smiling face on the photo. Then I remembered the woman in the cathedral.The hatred in her eyes. The accusation in her voice.

I’ve come back to finish what you started.

“She thinks I tried to kill her, whatever happened three years ago… I intend to uncover every last piece of it.”