Chapter 3 Secrets, Lies, and Locked Doors

The car ride home was deathly silent.

Not from lack of words but because my head was screaming.

The image.

The body.

The blood on Damon's shirt.

I stared at him through the tinted window, my fingers gripping the edge of my dress. He looked unbothered. Relaxed, even.

Like someone who hadn't just been exposed by a faceless stranger.

Like someone who'd mastered the art of pretending.

I opened my mouth to speak, but his phone rang, cutting me off.

He answered. A short, sharp conversation in a language I didn't recognize. He hung up, his face unreadable.

When we pulled into the garage, I followed him in like a shadow. He said nothing.

Until I did.

"Why was your brother found dead?"

He paused.

Slowly turned.

"That's what you want to ask me after tonight?"

I held up my phone. "Someone sent me this. With a warning."

He walked over and plucked it from my hand.

His gaze flicked over the screen. Then he turned it off and slid it into his pocket like it was trash.

"You don't need to concern yourself with my past."

"Excuse me?" I stepped forward. "I married you, Damon. Whether fake or not, I live in your house. I sleep under your roof. If there's danger, if you're dangerous, I deserve to know."

"You're not in danger."

"You expect me to believe that after this?"

He leaned in, voice low and controlled. "You want to know what happened? Fine. My brother died. It was ruled an accident. That picture? It's a smear piece from people who hate my family's name. I loved him. That's all you need to know."

"People don't bleed out from 'accidents' and end up in body bags."

"And people don't marry strangers for money," he snapped.

Silence.

He exhaled, calmer now. "This conversation is over."

He started to walk away.

"No," I said, voice shaking. "This isn't how it works. I deserve answers."

He stopped at the bottom of the stairs.

"I told you not to fall for me, Amira. But you didn't listen. Now you want the truth? Can you handle it?"

He didn't wait for an answer.

Just walked up the stairs and disappeared into the master suite.

And left me standing there, angry... and terrified.

The next morning, I found the bedroom door locked.

Not mine.

His.

I knocked once.

No answer.

Twice.

Nothing.

I checked the time, it was past 9 a.m.

Something felt off.

I paced the hallway, tried to shake the anxiety building in my chest.

But it wasn't just fear.

It was curiosity.

Dangerous, deadly curiosity.

I'd grown up poor. Quiet. Invisible. But I wasn't stupid.

Damon Blackwood had secrets.

And I was going to find them.

I started in the study.

Rows of books. Locked drawers. A glass cabinet with files but a passcode kept me out.

Then I saw it.

A photo frame turned backward.

I picked it up.

It was old. Blurry. Two boys, Damon and someone who looked like him. Both smiling.

Both wearing blood-red bracelets.

I flipped the frame over. Something was scratched into the wood.

"Forgive me."

Weird.

I reached for the drawer under it.

Locked.

Of course.

I was about to give up when I noticed the carpet near the bookshelf was slightly raised.

I knelt down and lifted the edge.

Beneath it? A metal latch.

My breath caught.

I opened it.

A narrow staircase spiraled downward into darkness.

Why the hell would Damon have a hidden basement?

The air grew colder with every step I took.

And then... I reached a door.

Heavy. Steel.

I pressed my ear against it.

Nothing.

I turned the knob.

It opened.

The room was dimly lit by a single bulb swinging from the ceiling.

And inside?

Stacks of papers.

Folders.

Photos.

Newspaper clippings.

I stepped in slowly, scanning the contents.

Headlines flashed at me.

"Tech Empire Inherited After Tragedy."

"Blackwood Family Secrets Surface."

"Second Son Disappears Without a Trace."

I froze at one headline.

"Damon Blackwood Cleared of All Charges Following Brother's Mysterious Death."

Cleared.

Not innocent.

There were photos... documents... even psychiatric evaluations.

One note was circled in red ink.

"Borderline Sociopathic Traits. Lacks empathy. Extreme emotional detachment."

I stepped back.

My hands were shaking.

Why was he keeping this?

Why was it hidden?

Before I could even process it-

A click echoed behind me.

I turned.

And found Damon standing in the doorway.

Expression cold. Eyes unreadable.

"Looking for something?" he asked quietly.

I couldn't speak.

He stepped into the room and shut the door behind him.

It locked with a final click.

"You shouldn't have come down here, Amira."

My heartbeat went into overdrive.

I backed away, bumping into the metal filing cabinet.

"Damon – what is this?"

He walked toward me slowly. No threat. Just... calm. Too calm.

"That's the thing about curiosity, wife," he whispered.

"It comes with consequences."

To be continued...