Chapter 6 BURIED TRUTHS

The sound of Dominic's office door clicking shut echoed louder in Liana's chest than in her ears.

She stared at the tiny silver locket still cradled in her palm - the hidden compartment now empty, as if it had released not just a memory card but a sleeping curse. The room felt colder. Smaller.

Her legs finally gave out, and she sat back on the edge of the bed. Her mind was spiraling.

A hidden drive inside the one thing her father had left her? What kind of secrets did he bury inside it? What if the card had evidence - about the embezzlement, about Dominic's company, or worse... about her?

The door remained closed.

She stood abruptly and paced the room. One loop. Two. Her bare feet made no sound against the expensive rug. Every instinct told her to storm in and demand answers. But what if she wasn't ready to hear them?

God, Dad... what did you do?

The last time she'd looked her father in the eye was in a courthouse hallway. He hadn't said a word - just handed her the locket, squeezed her hand once, and walked into his trial like a man walking into fire. Three weeks later, he was sentenced. And a month after that, he died behind bars.

She hadn't cried at the funeral.

She hadn't cried at all.

The silence stretched unbearably until the office door opened.

Dominic stepped out, holding the card between two fingers like it might still burn him. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes - stormy and sharp - flickered with something raw.

"What's on it?" she asked, her voice thin.

He didn't answer right away. Instead, he walked to the minibar in the corner, poured himself a glass of something amber, and downed it in one swallow.

"Dominic?" she pressed.

"It's a backup," he said finally. "Encrypted files. Spreadsheets, emails, transaction logs... dated two years before the scandal even broke."

She blinked. "Wait - that means he knew what was coming?"

"No," he said tightly. "It means your father saw it coming... and tried to stop it."

Liana felt her breath hitch.

"He wasn't stealing," Dominic continued. "He was tracking it. He found irregularities - someone inside the finance department siphoning money slowly over time. Your father created a secret trail. These files? They're like... receipts. Names. Dates. Offshore accounts. Passwords."

She sank onto the edge of the bed again. "So... he was trying to protect the company?"

Dominic nodded once. "And someone figured it out. They turned the blame on him before he could reveal the truth."

Her hands trembled.

"But why not say any of this in court?" she asked.

"Because," Dominic said bitterly, "he couldn't prove it without exposing the card. And if he did, they might've gone after you next."

Her throat closed up. "So... he protected me by sacrificing himself."

Dominic's jaw flexed, and he looked away.

"I don't know what to say," she whispered. "All this time, I thought he was-"

"A thief?" Dominic said, finishing her thought.

She nodded miserably.

"You're not the only one who believed it," he said, softer now. "I made myself believe it, too. It was easier than admitting I'd failed to see what was really happening."

They sat in silence for a while, the weight of too many regrets hanging thick between them.

Finally, Liana stood and walked over to him.

"What happens now?" she asked.

Dominic looked down at the card again. "I send this to my legal team. We reopen the investigation. If this holds up... your father's name might finally be cleared."

The room spun.

"And me?" she asked. "Where does that leave me?"

He met her gaze. "That depends."

"On what?"

"On whether you're still running."

She blinked, caught off guard. "I'm not."

"You've been running since the moment you walked back into my life," he said, stepping closer. "Every word you say is dipped in caution. Every glance, calculated. You're still scared I'll turn on you."

"Wouldn't you be?" she said softly. "After everything that happened between us?"

He exhaled. "I never hated you, Liana. Not even when I tried to."

"Then why did you bring me here? Why force me to face everything I tried to bury?"

"Because I never got closure. And neither did you."

She swallowed hard. "You think this-this apartment, this city, that card-will fix what we broke?"

"No," he said. "But it might help us stop lying to ourselves."

Her chest ached.

She looked up at him - the man who had once held her like she was everything, then left her shattered when everything fell apart.

There were still pieces of her lying in the ruins. And maybe... maybe he was holding some of his own.

"Let's stop pretending," she whispered. "I didn't come here just to help with your PR disaster. And you didn't bring me here just for answers."

His eyes darkened. "Say it, Liana."

"You wanted me close," she breathed. "You still do."

In a heartbeat, his hands were on her waist, pulling her into him.

She didn't resist.

This kiss wasn't desperate like before - it was deeper, slower. Like two people rediscovering a language only they had ever spoken.

When they pulled apart, she rested her forehead against his.

"I don't know what this is," she said. "But I'm tired of running."

He traced a finger along her jaw. "Then stay. Let's figure it out together."

For the first time in years, she let herself believe that maybe - just maybe - healing was possible.

But neither of them noticed the red blinking light on the camera tucked into the corner of the room.

Someone else had seen everything.

And someone didn't want the truth coming out.