Chapter 6: Secrets Unfold

Emilia

The words on the letter haunt me, looping through my mind like a warning I can't escape: "Trust no one in this house, especially your husband."

The note sits on my vanity, a silent accusation. I haven't dared to confront Damien about it yet, but the longer I stay in this cold, sprawling mansion, the more uneasy I feel. It's as if the walls themselves hold secrets, and I'm a stranger stumbling blindly through shadows. I feel them watching me, the paintings, the staff, the unseen presence of something deeper and darker woven into the very foundation of this house.

Finally, as I dress myself for the day, I summon enough courage to find Damien and demand answers. I won't let this cryptic message consume me in silence. I deserve to know if I'm in danger—or if this marriage has put me into the hands of someone I should fear.

I find him in his study, surrounded by dark leather-bound books and an air of intense focus as he pores over a stack of documents. He doesn't look up as I enter, so I take a slow, steadying breath, forcing myself to stand tall.

"Damien, we need to talk," I say, my voice firmer than I feel.

He glances up, one brow raised, clearly caught off guard by my unannounced presence. "About what, exactly?"

I hold up the note, keeping my hand steady as I walk closer and set it down on his desk. His eyes flick to the note, but his expression remains carefully neutral. If he's surprised, he doesn't show it.

"This was left on my pillow last night," I say, my voice quieter now, filled with the uncertainty I've been trying to mask. "Do you know anything about it?"

He studies the note for a moment, his face giving nothing away, before finally lifting his gaze back to me. "No," he says simply, a hint of irritation in his tone. "I don't know anything about it. And I don't appreciate being accused of such childish tricks."

The denial stings, partly because I had hoped he would at least offer me a shred of reassurance. But his tone is cold, dismissive, like he's annoyed by the mere mention of it.

"But who else could it be?" I press, my frustration growing. "The note says not to trust you. Who would write something like that if there weren't a reason?"

Damien's jaw tightens, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Are you suggesting that I'm playing games with you, Emilia?" His voice is low, almost threatening. "If I wanted to warn you about something, don't you think I'd have the courage to tell you to your face?"

His words sting, leaving me speechless. He rises from his chair, stepping closer, his tall frame looming over me as he glares down with a barely contained anger.

"I don't know who wrote that note," he says, each word clipped and deliberate, "and I don't care for baseless accusations. If you're so eager to question my integrity, perhaps you should start considering who else in this household might benefit from playing mind games with you."

With that, he turns away, dismissing me as if I'm an inconvenience in his otherwise orderly life. I bite back the words bubbling to the surface, knowing that pressing further will get me nowhere. But as I leave his study, a nagging sense of dread lingers.

He may have denied knowing anything, but he hasn't exactly put my fears to rest. If anything, his reaction has only added to my unease, leaving me to wonder just how deep his secrets run.

The rest of the day is a blur. I wander through the halls of the mansion, feeling the oppressive weight of the house pressing down on me with every step. I can't shake the feeling that something is watching me, something unseen yet ever-present, hiding in the corners of this vast, empty estate.

As I pass by a long corridor near the west wing, something catches my attention. A door—heavy, carved with intricate patterns and standing out from the simpler doors that line the hallway. It's locked, though I can't imagine why. Every door I've tried so far has opened without a problem.

But this one… this door feels different. And as I stand there, pressing my hand against its smooth, cold surface, I hear something—a faint murmur, a whisper of voices on the other side. The words are indistinct, muffled by the thick wood, but the sound is unmistakable.

My heart races. Someone is in there, speaking in hushed tones as though they're afraid of being overheard. I press my ear closer, straining to catch even a hint of what they're saying, but the voices are too quiet, too distant.

I glance down the hall, making sure no one is around, then lean in again, hoping for any clue. But as I press against the door, a loud creak echoes through the hallway, and I freeze, heart hammering as I look around nervously.

The voices stop.

The silence that follows is thick, heavy, almost as if the air itself has turned against me. I pull back, suddenly overwhelmed with the irrational feeling that whatever is behind that door is forbidden—that I'm trespassing on something ancient and dangerous.

Footsteps sound from behind me, and I jump, stepping away from the door just in time as a maid turns the corner, her eyes widening in surprise when she sees me standing there.

"Oh, miss," she says quickly, her voice barely above a whisper. "You… you shouldn't be here."

I frown, glancing back at the door before looking at her. "Why? What's behind this door?"

The maid's face pales, and she glances around nervously, as though afraid someone might overhear. "It's… it's not my place to say," she murmurs, her hands fidgeting with her apron. "But please, miss, don't come back here. It's… it's not safe."

Before I can question her further, she hurries away, leaving me alone in the dim corridor, the door standing ominously behind me.

I stare at it for a long moment, my mind racing with possibilities. What could be so dangerous that even the staff fear it? And who were those voices I heard behind the door?

I don't have answers, but I can feel the weight of something dark and hidden lurking just beyond my reach, waiting for me to uncover it.

But one thing is certain—I need to find out what's behind that door.

And whoever wrote that warning note, whoever told me not to trust my husband, may be the only one who truly knows the secrets this house is hiding.