Beneath the Surface

Adrian had barely closed his eyes since the wedding. Each time he did, Amelia's ghostly visage haunted him—her quivering lips and the way her body had gone soft in his embrace. When he wasn't ensnared in that memory, Gray invaded his thoughts—his self-satisfied grin and how he had dissipated into thin air. No, Gray's appearance had been no coincidence, and Adrian couldn’t shake the unsettling feeling that a sinister truth lurked beneath the surface.

Morning dawned, yet the sun’s rays offered no warmth as he leaned against the balcony railing. Below, the garden thrummed softly with the songs of birds while silence reigned in the house except for the faint echoes of Nora’s laughter from the playroom. Adrian’s jaw tightened. Amelia wore a mask of normalcy, rising early, attending meetings, and smiling for Nora’s benefit, but he could see the cracks behind her facade. She was merely pretending, surviving.

And he couldn't sit idly by.

He retrieved his phone and dialed. “Adrian here. I need you to investigate someone—Gray Thompson—and anyone associated with Amelia Hayes. Business adversaries, exes, anyone who might want to see her downfall.”

The voice on the other end belonged to a private investigator he'd worked with before, and without skipping a beat, he replied, “I’ll update you in two days.”

Adrian tucked the phone away and retreated indoors. He passed by the hallway where images of Amelia and Nora adorned the walls—a snapshot of tranquility, Amelia cradling Nora at the beach, another of her in a tailored blazer shaking hands with a politician. Powerful. Composed. Yet, Adrian comprehended the truth now. He had witnessed her fear. He had seen her vulnerable.

In the kitchen, Nora swung her legs from the counter as a nanny sliced strawberries. Spotting Adrian, her face brightened.

“Adrian!” she exclaimed. “Why don’t you sleep in Mommy’s room?”

The nanny looked taken aback, attempting to quiet her, but Adrian merely grinned.

“Mommy’s room is special,” he replied, strolling over. “And I snore. Quite loudly.”

Nora giggled. “Mommy snores too!”

Adrian laughed, but when he glanced up, he found Amelia framed in the doorway. Her stance was rigid, lips pressed into a thin line. Their eyes locked, exchanging a silent message—was it a warning, or perhaps fear?

He offered her a subtle nod, and she turned away without a word.

Later, he discovered her in the office, perusing files. Dressed in a cream blouse tucked into a pencil skirt, her hair styled into a low bun—she appeared impeccable. Yet, as she reached for a binder on the shelf, her blouse rose just enough to reveal a delicate scar on her lower back. Adrian halted.

It was small and faded, yet it bore the mark of something intentional.

Amelia noticed his gaze and her brows knitted together.  

"You lied," she stated, redirecting her focus to the paperwork.  

"About what?" Adrian countered, raising an eyebrow.  

"Why you don’t sleep in my room. Why don’t you sleep in my room?" She asked, her forehead creasing like a fresh wrinkle in their discourse.  

“Do you want me in your room?” he retorted, and she sighed, meeting his gaze.

“Is something amiss?” she inquired.

He blinked in surprise. “No. I was just... curious about how you acquired that scar.”  

“What scar?” she responded, pretending to be unaware.  

“You know exactly what I mean.” He replied, reluctant to delve deeper.  

Her pause lingered a heartbeat too long. “Just an old tale,” she stated matter-of-factly before once again burying herself in her papers.

Adrian opted not to press further, yet the image of that scar haunted him long after he exited the room.

Later that evening, he strode through the courtyard, phone in hand, awaiting the anticipated call. When it arrived, the voice was low and somber.

“I’ve uncovered something,” his informant disclosed. “Gray Thompson isn’t merely a drifter; he’s tied to a firm that once competed against Hayes International. There’s a murky past—sabotage from within, a collapsed merger, even whispers of blackmail. And here’s the kicker: your Gray had a romantic history with Amelia’s previous assistant.”  

Before he wed Amelia's sister? Something felt off. 

Adrian released a slow breath. “So he’s not a newcomer. He’s been lurking.”  

“Possibly circling her for years.”  

The only connection that ought to exist between Grayson and Amelia should have been through Amelia's sister. There must be more lurking beneath the surface.  

“Anything else?”  

“Nothing solid. But keep your eyes peeled. This man’s a specter, yet even ghosts have their patterns.”  

After ending the call, Adrian gazed at the fading horizon, torn between the ghosts of Amelia's past and her secrets she’d withheld. Why the silence? Was it shame? A desire to protect?  

He re-entered the house and found her on the sofa with Nora, sharing a bedtime story. The child’s head leaned against Amelia’s lap, tiny fingers curled around her wrist. Amelia’s voice flowed gently, a soothing melody that concealed fear or tension.  

Yet, once Nora drifted into slumber and Adrian tucked her into bed, he returned to find Amelia shrouded in darkness.  

“You knew he would appear,” he murmured.  

Her gaze remained fixed away from him. “I hoped he wouldn’t.”  

“Why keep me in the dark?”  

“I didn’t want you entangled in this.”  

“That’s not how this operates, Amelia. Not anymore.”  

She rose, moving toward the window. “You’re here due to a bargain. Don’t confuse this for something beyond that.”  

Adrian closed the distance. “What if I already have?”  

The silence thickened like fog around them.  

Finally, Amelia turned to meet his gaze. “Then that’s your dilemma, Adrian. Not mine.”  

She turned away, leaving him adrift in the shadows.  

Yet, he noticed the faint tremor in her shoulders.  

And that’s how Adrian recognized—despite her words and the icy facade—Amelia Hayes was undeniably frightened.  

And whether she accepted it or not, he wasn’t backing down.