More Questions Than Answers

The rain had stopped hours ago, leaving behind a thin film of silver mist clinging to the city’s skyline.

Naomi sat alone in the quiet hum of the room, the faint ticking of the clock filling the silence. The air smelled faintly of antiseptic and lavender from the oil diffuser Damon had insisted on setting up.

Her fingers brushed over the edge of the bedspread. Patrick had been by earlier when she asked where Damom had gone.

She recalled taking a quick nap and now that she was awake, he was nowhere to be found.

“Mr. Damon had to attend to work,” he’d said. “He’ll be gone for a few hours, but he asked that you rest.”

His tone was strained, the way it always was when he was trying not to say too much.

Naomi had nodded, offering a small smile. “I’ll be fine.”

She always said that, even when she wasn’t.

As soon as the door shut behind Patrick, the silence returned, thicker this time, pressing in on her chest. She leaned back against the pillows, trying to focus on anything but the pulsing in her temple or the dull ache behind her ribs.

Damon had been hovering all morning, making sure she ate, took her meds, and rested. His protectiveness was both comforting and sometimes annoying.

But he meant well, she knew he did and he was just worried for her safety. She couldn't blame him for worrying so much.

Now that he was gone, the room felt bigger. Lonelier.

Her gaze drifted to the walk in closet. In there, deep in her closet was the small parcel Jack had handed her at the hospital. Brown wrapping paper and slightly crumpled edges.

Her mind drifted over there because he made a call to her that morning. Apparently he learnt about her accident from Reed and he sounded mortified. She knew if he came face to face with Damon, he would most likely strangle him to death for letting something like this happen.

She assured him she was okay and he'd asked about the parcel.

“You haven’t opened it yet, have you?”

“I… I haven’t had the time.”

“You should, Naomi. Some truths only wait for so long.”

“Jack, what’s this about?”

“Consider it... your father’s unfinished story.”

She remembered Jack’s tone, a strange mix of urgency and pity.

“I know it will be hard to accept at first but it will get easier over time.,” he’d whispered, eyes darting around the corridor. “ I won't push you if you're not ready. But when you are…”

Naomi hadn’t been sure what he meant. She still wasn’t. Ready for what exactly?

Why does it feel like everyone was keeping something away from her? Hiding? Even Uncle Jack. Why did his voice sounded so desperate, almost taunting over the phone? What was so huge input Damon that she had to know?

Could this be tied to why she was shoved down the stairs?

She’d stared at her phone for nearly a minute after that call, heart thudding against her ribs. Jack wasn't easing out her curiosity. Whatever is in that parcel was sure enough to ruin the image of Damon she had in her head, the Damon she thought she knew. But something about his tone… something in the way he’d said her father...

Her father.

Her chest tightened.

What does this have to do with her fathers dream? What dream was Jack referring to?

Before she could think things through, she was already in the walk in closet, the brown envelope in hand.

Her hands trembled slightly in fear of what she might discover, what she might learn. Hell, it could break and set her back a hundred steps but here she was, desperate to know the truth.

Desperate to know what Damom was hiding from her.

She stepped out of the closet, ignoring the mild protest in her muscles, and walked toward the small desk by the window. She had asked Damon to set up a small work space in their room and he'd done just that.

The late afternoon light had turned gold, spilling through the sheer curtains and painting the floor in honey-colored stripes.

Her fingers hovered over the parcel. She almost didn’t want to open it.

“Just paper,” she murmured to herself. “It’s just paper.”

But her pulse quickened anyway.

The brown paper peeled away easily, revealing a black velvet pouch. Inside it, a small metallic flash drive gleamed under the light. No labels. No initials. Just cold metal.

Her brows furrowed. What is this kaput? She had expected papers or pictures, something!

She turned on the desktop in the corner, the screen blinking to life. The faint hum of the CPU filled the room. The cursor blinked impatiently on the desktop as she slotted the USB into the port.

At first, nothing.

Then, a folder appeared.

“Property Files…2004”

Naomi hesitated, her fingers trembling as she double-clicked. A cascade of documents filled the screen. Legal deeds, transfer records, property ownership certificates, and scanned handwritten letters bearing her father’s signature.

Her breath caught.

She scrolled through the files, her eyes widening. Every document led back to one truth, her father’s assets, all legally transferred from her name to Damon's before his death.

“What the hell…” she whispered.

She clicked on another file, a recorded video, timestamped just days before his supposed ‘accident’ .

The man on the screen looked tired, worn, but his eyes were steady. Her father.

Her breath seized, it's been ages since she saw him and now that she was watching him, tears pooled in her eyes. Despite their differences, she missed her old man dearly..

She sniffs, moving the cursor over to hit the play button. She wanted to hear his voice, to hear what he had to say..

“Naomi,” he said, voice breaking slightly. “If you’re seeing this, it means something went wrong. They’ve come for me. The company isn’t safe anymore. Damon has the….”

The video glitched. “Not….” Another glitch. “Trusted..”

The audio cut off abruptly, glitching.

Naomi’s blood ran cold.

She leaned forward, heart hammering. “What do you mean, Damon..?”

Static filled the screen. The cursor flickered erratically, then froze. A faint high-pitched whine emitted from the USB port.

Naomi frowned. “What…?”

The computer screen flashed white.

Then black.

Then white again.

Her instincts screamed to unplug it, but before she could move, the flash drive sparked, a bright burst of orange light exploding from the side of the monitor.

The blast knocked her backward, sending the chair crashing to the floor. Glass shattered as the desktop imploded, flames licking the edge of the tablecloth.

Naomi hit the ground hard, her ears ringing violently.

For a second, she couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t see. The air was thick with smoke and burnt plastic.

Her vision blurred, the world tilting sideways as she tried to push herself up, coughing. Her fingertips grazed the carpet, feeling shards of glass.

Everything sounded far away.

A shrill ringing filled her head, like a siren trapped behind her eardrums. Her heartbeat thudded in her throat, each pulse louder than the last.

Through the haze, she could barely make out the shape of the burning desk. The USB drive was gone, melted into the wreckage.

Naomi blinked hard, trying to focus. Her thoughts felt disjointed, sliding in and out of coherence.

What just happened?

Smoke. Heat.Darkness.

Her body trembled as she crawled toward the door, one hand clutching her ribs. The smoke alarm began to wail above her, the shrill sound blending with the ringing in her ears.

“H..help…” Her voice came out as a hoarse whisper.

She could barely hear herself.

Her lungs burned with every breath. She pressed her back against the wall, eyes watering. For a moment, she thought she saw movement, a shadow near the window.

Her pulse spiked. “Who’s there..?”

But it was only the curtain, fluttering in the faint breeze.

The room spun.

Her knees buckled, the strength leaving her limbs. The light in the room flickered once, twice, then dimmed completely.

Naomi’s head hit the floor, her cheek pressed against the cold tile.

Her last conscious thought before the world slipped away was of Damon, his voice low and steady, the way he’d always say, “You shouldn't be here.”

Now, that voice felt miles away. What did her father mean in that video? Did he mean she shouldn't be trusted? Damon shouldn't be trusted? Why did he let her marry him then?

Why was the share that was in her name suddenly transferred to Damon's? Did he falsify her fathers will?

Did he threaten her father to change his will? Was that why he didn't bother to show up at her father's funeral? Was that why he didn't bother to show up as her husband all this while? Because he was guilty?

And why the hell did the flash drive explode? What is going on here? Why aren't there answers to her questions safe for more questions?

Her ears were still ringing, her vision a blur of gray and gold.

The smell of smoke filled her nose.

Then, nothing.