Unanswered Questions

CHAPTER FIVE

Damien

The scent of her perfume still lingered in my office. It was faint now, almost impossible to notice unless I stood perfectly still.

I hated that I noticed it anyway. Three years was supposed to be enough for memories to fade. Instead, one conversation had undone every ounce of progress I’d convinced myself I’d made.

I walked slowly toward the floor-to-ceiling windows where she stood while demanding all my attention in that sexy way of hers.

I replayed the way she’d stood in front of my desk with her shoulders squared, refusing to look away. She hated me, that much was obvious. But what unsettled me was the fact that I noticed the way sunlight caught the shorter strands of her hair. Although, she couldn't loathe me anymore than I did myself.

I craved to pull her into my arms the way I fantasized doing when I had the chance. But I made sure I committed her to memory this time before she slipped away like yesterday. She looked thinner. It made me wonder.

Where had she slept?

Who had convinced her I was the man responsible?

Most importantly…

Who had she become while I was mourning a woman who had never actually died?

A knock interrupted the silence. “Mr. Blackwood?”

My secretary’s voice carried cautiously through the door. “The board members are asking if you’d like to continue the meeting.”

I glanced toward the presentation still frozen on the screen. A merger I’d spent six months negotiating. I couldn’t remember a single figure.

“No.”

“Sir?”

“The meeting is cancelled.”

“Should I reschedule it for tomorrow?”

I pulled my jacket from the back of my chair.

“No.”

“Understood.”

“Also sir, your mother is here.”

I stopped buttoning my jacket. “My mother?”

“She arrived a few minutes ago.”

“I explained that you weren't available.” Vanessa said when she saw the look on my face.

Before I could answer, the office doors burst open.

“Damn right he's available.” My mother’s voice sliced through the room like broken glass.

She walked in like she owned the place without waiting for permission, dressed in an immaculate ivory suit that somehow managed to look as cold as the woman wearing it.

Vanessa immediately stepped aside. “I’m sorry sir.” She ran out immediately.

The doors clicked shut.

My mother looked around my office before her eyes finally settled on me. “I leave the city for one week.” She folded her designer handbag neatly over one arm.

“And I return to discover you’ve humiliated this family again.”

I remained where I was.

Her voice rose.

“You finally agreed to marry someone suitable. Someone capable of strengthening the Blackwood name.”

She shook her head in disbelief.

“And somehow…you still managed to destroy it.”

I sighed, before walking back to my seat.

“Mother, I think I've had enough of your theatrics, you weren't invited for a reason.”

She laughed bitterly. “I'm glad I wasn't invited to witness that clown show.”

“That girl. I warned you about her from the beginning. I told you marrying beneath your station would end badly.”

“Now she’s back.” She continued.

“As if three years of peace weren’t enough.”

Her lips curled with unmistakable disgust.

“Frankly…”

“…she should have stayed where everyone believed she belonged.”

Something inside me went completely still.

My voice, when it came, was dangerously quiet.

“Mother…Be careful.”

She met my gaze without flinching.

“Dead.”

The single word echoed through the office.

My jaw clenched as I stared at her. “Leave my office.”

She frowned. “What?”

“Get out!!” I roared at her.

She flinched.

I reached toward the intercom without taking my eyes off her.

Her expression hardened. “You wouldn’t dare.”

I pressed the button. “Security.”

Less than thirty seconds later, two security officers entered the office.

They stopped immediately upon seeing my mother.

“Escort Mrs. Blackwood from the building.”

The room fell silent.

I looked directly at the guards.

“That wasn’t a fucking request!”

One stepped forward respectfully. “Ma’am.”

She looked at me as though she’d never seen me before. “Your father would be turning in his grave right now.”

I held her gaze. “Good.”

She simply straightened her jacket before walking toward the door with all the dignity she could still salvage. Just before leaving, she looked over her shoulder.

“This isn't over.”

I slammed the door behind her.

Silence settled over the office once more. I breathed out a sigh, standing exactly where I was until the sound of the elevator faded.

Then I walked slowly toward the built-in bookshelf behind my desk. Hidden behind one shelf was a biometric lock. My thumb rested against the scanner.

The lower compartment unlocked. Inside were twenty-three folders. Police reports. Insurance investigations. Forensic analyses. Every document connected to the day Sara supposedly died.

I reached for the oldest file and lowered myself into my chair, the weight of the folder heavier than paper had any right to be.

The first page was the official police report.

Cause of accident: Mechanical failure resulting in loss of vehicle control. I almost laughed.

Mechanical failure.

That conclusion had lasted less than forty-eight hours before I started asking questions. I had accepted it because there was nothing else to hold on to.

Until yesterday.

Another photograph caught my attention, it was a close-up of the brake assembly. A tiny, clean incision. Almost invisible unless you knew exactly where to look.

Someone had watched her, had known exactly how to make everything look like an accident.

My jaw tightened.

I reached my home sometime in the evening. The only place that didn't suffocate me with guilt anymore was my study.

My phone rang while I was typing away on my laptop. The name Marcus Reed flashed across the screen

“Marcus, did you find her?”

“Mr Blackwood, your wife is very hard to follow. One minute, I have my eye on her, the next it's like she disappears into thin air.”

“Marcus.”

His voice became quieter.

“I hired you because you don't lose people. Don't start now.”

“Of course sir, I've been trying to piece together Mrs Blackwood’s movements.”

“Did you find her address?”

“Yes sir, I just sent it to you.”

My laptop dinged with the notification.

“She just walked into a restaurant.”

“A restaurant?”

“Yes sir, she appears to be waiting for someone.”

I could hear him taking photographs while my chest tightened.

“I’ve emailed you several photographs.” He finally said.

And there it was. In one of the photos, Sara was smiling at someone. It had been years since I’d seen that smile.

I looked at the seat opposite her.

A man sat there, completely absorbed in whatever she was saying.

For reasons I couldn't explain, I hated the sight.

It hurt more than I ever thought it would.

“Send me the location of the restaurant and find out everything you can about this man.”

I hung up the call and grabbed my keys.