Chapter 3 — Behind His Locked Door

ALESSANDRA’S POV

“Ask your precious CEO why he let me disappear.”

Hindi ako makagalaw.

The woman standing outside my bedroom window looked exactly like the woman in the photographs. Same face. Same eyes. Same diamond necklace.

Isabelle Laurent.

The woman everyone believed was dead.

“Who are you?” I whispered, taking a step backward.

She smiled sadly. “You already know my name.”

Before I could ask another question, headlights illuminated the street. A black car stopped outside our house.

Isabelle’s smile vanished.

“He’s here.”

“Who?”

She looked toward the car.

“Damian.”

Then she disappeared into the darkness.

“Wait!”

I rushed outside, but there was no sign of her. Only an envelope lay on the ground beneath my window.

Inside was a photograph of Damian and Isabelle standing in front of a church. He wore a black suit. She wore a white dress.

On the back, someone had written five words.

**HE PROMISED TO MARRY ME.**

My phone rang.

“Alessandra, where are you?” Damian demanded.

“Outside my house.”

“Get inside. Now.”

“Isabelle was here!”

Silence.

“Did she speak to you?”

“Yes! She said you let her disappear. She showed me a photograph of us—”

“Us?”

“Her and you, Damian!”

His breathing changed.

“I'm coming upstairs.”

“Don't you dare give me another order!”

“Alessandra, please.”

Napahinto ako.

That was the first time I had ever heard him say that word without sarcasm.

“Please,” he repeated. “Let me explain before you do something that puts you in danger.”

I looked at the photograph again.

Then I heard footsteps approaching the front door.

Damian had arrived.

And for the first time, I wasn't sure whether I wanted him to protect me—or confess everything.

***

“Tell me the truth.”

I stood in the middle of my living room, holding the photograph between trembling fingers.

Damian closed the door behind him. His expensive suit was slightly disheveled, and his expression was darker than I had ever seen it.

“Isabelle is alive,” I continued. “You knew it, didn't you?”

He removed his watch and placed it on the table.

“I suspected she might be.”

“You suspected?” I laughed bitterly. “A woman appeared outside my window, told me you let her disappear, and showed me a photograph of you promising to marry her!”

His jaw tightened.

“She was supposed to be my wife.”

The words struck me harder than I expected.

I looked away.

“Of course she was.”

“Alessandra—”

“Don't.”

I placed the photograph on the table.

“You have a fiancée, a missing woman who claims you promised to marry her, and now you're standing in my house pretending you can protect me from a mess you refuse to explain.”

“I never pretended to be innocent.”

“Then stop acting like I'm the problem!”

He fell silent.

For several seconds, we stared at each other.

Then he took a careful step toward me.

“Isabelle disappeared after discovering something about my family. I searched for her for months. Her family refused to cooperate, and eventually, everyone believed she was dead.”

“Did you love her?”

His eyes held mine.

“Yes.”

I felt something inside me crack.

He continued before I could speak.

“But whatever existed between us ended long before you came into my life.”

I swallowed the painful lump in my throat.

“Then why do you keep looking at me like you want something from me?”

His expression changed.

“Because I do.”

My heart began to race.

“What?”

“You.”

The room became painfully quiet.

I hated him for saying it. I hated myself even more for wanting to believe him.

“You can't have me, Damian.”

“I know.”

“You're engaged.”

“I know.”

“And I'm not going to become another woman you leave behind.”

His face tightened.

“Then don't let me.”

I stared at him, stunned by the vulnerability hidden beneath those words.

He reached for my hand but stopped before touching it.

“Tell me to leave, Alessandra, and I will.”

I should have told him to go.

Instead, I whispered, “I don't know what I want.”

His eyes softened.

“Then we won't do anything tonight that you're not certain about.”

For the first time since I had met him, Damian wasn't trying to control the conversation.

He was waiting for me to decide.

***

The rain started just as Damian prepared to leave.

Thunder rolled above the house, and the lights flickered before going out completely.

I gasped.

“Perfect,” I muttered. “Just perfect.”

“Stay where you are.”

“Damian, I can walk without—”

My foot caught the edge of the rug.

I stumbled.

He caught me before I hit the floor, one arm wrapping securely around my waist.

For a moment, neither of us moved.

His hand rested against my back. My fingers had instinctively gripped his shirt.

“You okay?” he asked softly.

I nodded, suddenly aware of how close we were.

His face was inches from mine.

“Alessandra.”

I looked up.

“Don't look at me like that,” I whispered.

“Like what?”

“Like you're waiting for me to make a mistake.”

His thumb brushed lightly against my cheek.

“Maybe I'm waiting for you to tell me what you really want.”

My heart hammered.

“And what if I want something I shouldn't?”

His gaze dropped briefly to my lips.

“Then we need to be honest about the consequences.”

I knew he was right.

I knew this man could break my heart.

But when he began to step away, panic rose in my chest.

“Damian, wait.”

He stopped immediately.

I searched his face, trying to understand the impossible pull between us.

“Would you kiss me if I asked?”

His expression grew serious.

“Only if you mean it.”

I took a breath.

“Then kiss me.”

He didn't move immediately.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

He lifted his hand to my cheek and waited one last moment, giving me the chance to change my mind.

I didn't.

Then his lips met mine.

The kiss began gently, almost cautiously, as though he were afraid that one wrong movement would make me disappear. But when I slipped my arms around his neck, the restraint between us began to unravel.

He drew me closer, his other hand settling at my waist.

I forgot about the rain.

Forgot about the photograph.

Forgot about every warning I had received.

For a few impossible seconds, there was only Damian and the way he kissed me as if he had spent the entire evening fighting the urge to do exactly this.

When we finally separated, our foreheads rested together.

“This is a mistake,” I whispered.

“Probably.”

“I'm going to regret this.”

“Maybe.”

I gave him an incredulous look.

“You're supposed to tell me I won't.”

His mouth curved into a faint smile.

“I won't lie to you just to make you stay.”

That answer frightened me more than any promise could have.

Because a part of me wanted to stay anyway.

I touched his cheek.

“Just one more kiss.”

His eyes searched mine.

“Alessandra, if we continue, I need you to understand something.”

“What?”

“I cannot promise you a future while I'm still engaged to another woman.”

The truth hurt, but I appreciated that he had said it.

“Then don't promise me anything,” I whispered. “Just don't pretend this means nothing.”

His expression softened.

“It doesn't.”

He kissed me again, slower this time, and I felt the last of my defenses weaken.

When he pulled away, he rested his forehead against mine.

“Tell me to stop whenever you want.”

“I will.”

“And I'll listen.”

I believed him.

That was the most dangerous part.

We remained together in the dim light of the hallway, holding each other while the storm continued outside. Eventually, Damian offered to stay until the rain eased, and I let him sit beside me on the sofa.

We talked quietly about things we had never intended to share.

I told him about my fear of losing my mother.

He told me that he had spent years believing that needing someone was a weakness.

“Maybe that's why you keep pushing people away,” I said.

“Maybe.”

“And maybe that's why you need someone to tell you when you're being an idiot.”

He laughed softly.

“You volunteering?”

“Don't push your luck, Mr. Blackwood.”

He kissed my forehead.

For once, I didn't pull away.

That night, we chose to stay beside each other, with the boundaries we had discussed still clear between us. His arm rested around my shoulders, and my head lay against his chest.

Nothing about our situation was simple.

But for a little while, neither of us had to pretend we felt nothing.

***

At dawn, I woke to the sound of Damian's phone vibrating.

He was standing near the window, already dressed, his face pale as he read the screen.

“What happened?” I asked.

He turned toward me.

“Isabelle has been found.”

I sat upright.

“Where?”

He hesitated.

“Outside my family's estate.”

My stomach tightened.

“Then she's alive. Why do you look like that?”

He crossed the room and handed me his phone.

A photograph filled the screen.

Isabelle stood beside an older man whose face I recognized from the photographs in Damian's office.

Richard Blackwood.

Damian's grandfather.

Below the photograph was a message.

**COME HOME, DAMIAN. YOUR FUTURE WIFE HAS RETURNED.**

I stared at the words.

“Future wife?”

Damian's face hardened.

“It's a threat.”

“From your grandfather?”

“From my family.”

Before I could ask anything else, another message appeared on his phone.

This one contained a photograph of Damian and me standing together outside my house the previous night.

Someone had been watching us.

Beneath it were seven words.

**WE KNOW WHAT HAPPENED BEHIND HER CLOSED DOOR.**

My blood turned cold.

Damian took the phone from my hand.

Then he looked at me with an expression I had never seen before.

Fear.

“Alessandra,” he whispered, “you need to leave with me.”

“Why?”

His answer shattered the fragile peace of the morning.

“Because my family doesn't punish people like you by threatening their jobs.”

He took my hand.

“They destroy everyone they love.”

END OF CHAPTER 3