Chapter 6 A Trail of Secrets

Sophie's POV

I sat frozen, the letter trembling in my hands. My name was written at the bottom in delicate handwriting, but the words above it blurred as my mind spun. Who wrote this? And why was it locked away in Daniel's drawer?

My heart pounded as I forced myself to read.

"Sophie, if you're reading this, then the truth has finally reached you. I never meant for it to be hidden this long, but some things are buried not out of deception, but out of necessity. You were never meant to be just a stand-in. You were always meant to be more..."

I inhaled sharply, gripping the paper so tightly my fingers ached. My stomach twisted as a chilling thought formed in my mind.

Was this written by Daniel? Or... someone else?

I rifled through the other letters, scanning through the words, but the handwriting varied slightly between them. Some were older, the ink fading, the edges slightly torn as if they had been handled multiple times.

Why would Daniel have these?

And why did they feel like pieces of a puzzle I wasn't even aware I was part of?

A cold shiver ran down my spine. I glanced at the clock. Nearly midnight.

Daniel wasn't home yet.

I debated calling him, demanding answers. But something told me he wouldn't pick up. Not tonight.

Not when he was clearly keeping secrets from me.

With a deep breath, I carefully put the letters back, shutting the drawer. I'd find the truth, one way or another.

But first, I needed to act like I knew nothing.

Because if Daniel was hiding something... then I needed to know why.

Daniel's POV

The dimly lit rooftop bar was nearly empty at this hour, just the way I preferred it. The city lights flickered in the distance, but my mind was clouded by something darker.

She was back.

I clenched my jaw as I stared at the whiskey glass in front of me, the amber liquid swirling with each small movement of my hand.

"Sitting alone like a man with regrets?"

I didn't flinch at the familiar voice behind me. Instead, I exhaled slowly before turning.

She stood there, just as I remembered. Long dark hair, piercing eyes, a smirk that held both amusement and a challenge.

"Surprised to see me?" she asked, sliding into the seat across from me without an invitation.

I leaned back, fingers tightening around my glass. "I should be. But I'm not."

Her smirk widened. "I always told you I'd come back when you least expected it."

I hated that she was right.

I hated even more that a part of me had been waiting for this moment.

She leaned forward, propping her chin on her hand. "So, tell me, Daniel. Does she know yet?"

My stomach twisted, but my face remained unreadable. "Know what?"

She chuckled, tapping her perfectly manicured fingers against the table. "That she was never supposed to be the real thing."

I didn't respond.

Because no matter how much I wanted to deny it, there was a time when that statement had been true.

But things had changed.

Hadn't they?

She studied me carefully before sighing dramatically. "Poor Sophie. What do you think she'll do when she finds out?"

I set my glass down with a quiet thud. "That's none of your concern."

She tilted her head. "Oh, but it is. Because you see, Daniel... secrets have a funny way of catching up to people. And this one?" She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. "It's about to explode."

I forced myself to stay composed, but deep down, I knew she wasn't wrong.

Because Sophie wasn't stupid.

And if she hadn't found out yet...

She would soon.

Sophie's POV

Sleep didn't come easily. I tossed and turned, my mind racing with too many thoughts.

Who wrote those letters?

What was Daniel hiding?

And most importantly-was I truly just a stand-in for someone else?

By the time the sun began to rise, I had made up my mind.

If Daniel wouldn't give me answers, I'd find them myself.

Even if it meant uncovering a truth I wasn't ready for.

I could still feel the weight of those letters in my hands, even though I had locked them away hours ago. No matter how hard I tried to push them from my mind, the words kept replaying over and over.

"You were never meant to be just a stand-in."

What did that even mean? Who wrote them? And why did Daniel have them hidden away?

Lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, I knew there was only one way to get answers. I had to find out for myself.

I tossed the blankets aside, my bare feet hitting the cold floor. The clock on my nightstand read 5:37 AM. I hadn't slept at all.

I grabbed my phone and opened the messaging app. My fingers hesitated over Daniel's name. I wanted to confront him. I wanted to ask him what those letters meant.

But deep down, I already knew I wouldn't get the truth from him. Not yet.

So instead, I did the next best thing.

I dialed Emily.

She picked up after a few rings, her voice groggy. "Sophie? It's barely six. What's wrong?"

I hesitated, suddenly second-guessing my decision. Was I overreacting?

No. Something didn't feel right, and I needed someone to hear me out.

"I found something last night," I said, keeping my voice low even though Daniel wasn't home. "Something about Daniel... and I don't know what to do."

That woke her up instantly. "I'm coming over."

Fifteen minutes later, Emily was in my living room, holding two cups of coffee. She shoved one into my hands before sitting across from me, her sharp eyes scanning my face.

"Talk to me."

I took a deep breath and told her everything. About the letters, the words, the lingering doubts I had buried deep inside me for too long.

Emily listened quietly, sipping her coffee. When I finished, she exhaled slowly. "Sophie... this doesn't sound good."

I scoffed. "Understatement of the year."

"You said the handwriting was different in some letters?" she asked.

I nodded. "Yeah, like they were written by different people."

Emily bit her lip. "Then we need to figure out who wrote them."

I frowned. "How?"

She smirked. "You forget that I work at the publishing house. I know a thing or two about handwriting analysis. If we can compare the letters to something Daniel has written, we'll know if they're from him."

A spark of hope lit inside me. "That's actually a great idea."

Emily reached for the letters, but I stopped her. "Not yet."

She raised a brow. "Why not?"

"Because... if they aren't from Daniel, then that means someone else is involved."

Emily's expression darkened. "And you're afraid of what you'll find?"

I swallowed hard. "I just want to be prepared for whatever comes next."

She nodded slowly. "Then let's start small. Let's confirm if Daniel wrote them or not."

I glanced toward our bedroom door. A sinking feeling settled in my chest.

If Daniel didn't write them... then who did?

And more importantly-what else was he keeping from me?

Daniel's POV

The moment I walked into my office, I knew something was off.

Mason, my assistant, stood near my desk, his face tense. "Sir, we have a problem."

I sighed, already exhausted. "What is it now?"

He handed me a file. "It's about her."

My grip tightened before I even opened it. I knew who he meant.

I flipped through the pages, my chest tightening with every word.

"She's digging," Mason said quietly. "She's looking for answers."

I clenched my jaw. Of course, she was. I should have seen this coming.

"Should we handle it?" Mason asked carefully.

I shook my head. "No."

This was my mess to clean up.

And I needed to fix it before Sophie uncovered the truth.

Sophie's POV

That evening, I sat at my vanity, brushing my hair when Daniel walked in. His suit jacket was slung over his arm, his tie loosened. He looked tired, but there was something else in his eyes-something guarded.

He walked over, pressing a kiss to my forehead. "Hey, love."

I forced a smile. "Hey."

He moved behind me, resting his hands on my shoulders. "Long day?"

I nodded. "Yeah. Yours?"

His fingers tensed slightly. "The usual."

Lies.

I looked at him in the mirror, searching for something-anything-that would tell me he wasn't keeping things from me.

But I found nothing.

So instead, I reached for his hand, lacing my fingers through his. "Daniel... do you ever think about the past?"

His body stiffened.

He recovered quickly, pressing a kiss to my hair. "Not as much as I think about the future."

A perfect answer. Too perfect.

But I didn't push. Not yet.

Because if I played my cards right, I'd have my answers soon enough.