Chapter 4 Some Secrets Don't Stay Buried

Three missed calls.

Two from Lyla.

One from Ethan.

Amara stood barefoot in her kitchen, a glass of untouched wine in her hand, the soft hum of the dishwasher the only sound in the penthouse. She had left the café two hours ago, but Daniel's words still clung to her skin like the fog rolling in from the bay.

I just want to know if there's still anything left.

There was.

And that terrified her.

She glanced at her phone again, debating whether to call Ethan back. But she knew what he wanted-confirmation. Reassurance. Control. That's how he handled everything in life, including her.

Before she could decide, a knock sounded at the door.

She wasn't expecting anyone.

Amara padded across the polished floors and opened it, her heart momentarily skipping when she saw Lyla standing there-lip gloss smudged, hair in a messy bun, takeout bag in one hand and a suspicious glint in her eye.

"You didn't answer my calls," Lyla said as she breezed in. "Which means you're either dead, crying, or making a really bad decision."

Amara blinked. "You brought Thai?"

Lyla held up the bag. "You're welcome. Now spill."

They sat on the couch, containers open, chopsticks in hand. Amara twirled noodles she had no intention of eating.

"I saw Daniel."

Lyla froze. "Daniel... Daniel?"

Amara nodded.

"Oh my God. As in the Daniel? Your college Romeo, ran-away-to-law-school-without-saying-goodbye Daniel?"

"Yes. That Daniel."

Lyla dropped her food. "Where? When? Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"I was still processing it," Amara admitted. "He came to the gallery. Then he messaged me. We met for coffee."

"And Ethan knows nothing about this?"

"No."

Lyla leaned back. "Girl. This is messy."

"I know."

"What does he want?"

"Closure. Maybe more."

"Do you want more?"

Amara was silent for a long moment.

Then softly, "I don't know."

Lyla reached over and took her hand. "Babe, you need to figure that out before this explodes in your face."

Across the City - Daniel's Hotel Room

Daniel stared at an old photo on his phone. Him and Amara at a Halloween party in college-him as a lawyer (ironically), her as an artist covered in paint. Their smiles were unfiltered, wild, free.

He had left so much behind.

He thought time would fade her.

But now, being this close again, he realized what he had abandoned wasn't just a relationship-it was home.

There was a knock at the door.

Daniel opened it, expecting room service.

Instead, he found a man in a tailored suit, hands in his pockets, face unreadable.

"Daniel Reyes?" the man asked.

"Yes?"

He handed Daniel a card. "Mr. Cross wants you to know he's aware of your presence in San Francisco."

Daniel stared at the business card: Ethan Cross.

The man turned to leave, but not before pausing. "Mr. Cross protects what belongs to him. Consider this a friendly warning.

Back at the Penthouse

Amara walked Lyla to the elevator, her head spinning.

As the doors closed, her phone buzzed again.

Message from Ethan: "We need to talk. Don't be late for dinner tomorrow."

She sighed and turned back toward her apartment, only to stop cold.

Someone had slipped a note under the door.

Her fingers trembled as she picked it up and unfolded it.

You deserve the truth. I never wanted to leave. But I was forced to.

-D

Amara's heart pounded.

There was more to the story.

And now, she wasn't sure which truth she belonged to-the life she had built, or the love she thought she lost.