Leonardo's POV
The fluorescent lights in the convenience store hummed with an irritating, clinical buzz, too bright, too white, too honest. They reflected off the linoleum floor and sharp corners of the shelves, slicing through my eyes like needles. I hated this kind of lighting. It made everything look harsher than reality, as if the world was being forced to reveal something it shouldn't.
Two bottles of mineral water clinked together as I placed them on the counter. One for me. One for Sebastian. A small mundane detail, but the motion felt grounding until I reached into my wallet.
My fingers brushed through each slot, searching for the familiar texture.
Nothing.
A faint throb pulsed in the back of my skull. Maybe I touched the wrong place.
I checked again.
Empty.
A cold ripple rolled down my spine.
No. No, fuck.
I fanned open every compartment. Cards. Receipts. A folded note. Membership pass. Business IDs.
But not that one.
Not the thin, faded, decades-old photograph I kept between two laminated cards so it wouldn't bend. The one thing in my wallet I never removed. Never touched. Never lost.
My pulse quickened.
"Sir?" the cashier asked, monotone, bored.
I stepped back from the counter, ignoring him. "Hold on."
I dug through my jacket pockets, inner lining, outer lining, everything. Then my jeans. My coat's hidden pocket. The one near the seams.
Nothing.
A pressure built behind my teeth. I exhaled slowly through my nose, forcing calm.
This wasn't like losing a receipt or a pair of keys. This wasn't something I dropped on a whim. That photo was a piece of the past I chose to carry. A promise.
The cashier scanned the bottles again as if urging me to hurry. His impatience buzzed under my skin.
Sebastian appeared beside me, eyeing the scene. "You okay?"
"No." My voice came out too flat, too sharp.
He waited for elaboration.
"I'm missing something," I said quietly. "A photo. The one I keep in my wallet."
Recognition flickered across his face. "The photo of your friend and his kid?"
I inhaled through tight lungs. "Yes."
"That thing's ancient, Leo," he said carefully. "Are you sure you didn't drop it somewhere?"
"I don't drop things." The words tasted bitter, defensive.
Sebastian raised both hands in a calm gesture. "Okay. Then maybe check the car when we're done."
Maybe.
Maybe not.
Because a heavier thought gnawed at the back of my mind. Something quieter, darker.
That photo didn't simply fall.
Someone took it.
But the idea seemed ridiculous. Nobody should have had access to my personal space today. Nobody should have been close enough.
Still… instincts rarely lied.
I swallowed the unease, paid for the bottles, and walked out into the cool night air, letting the door close behind me with a soft, mocking chime.
But even as I climbed into the car, even as Sebastian started the engine, the question wouldn't leave.
Where the hell is the photo?
~~~~~
Valerie's POV
The house was too quiet.
Not the comforting kind of quiet, the kind that wraps around you like an old blanket. This silence had weight. It pressed against my ribs, slipped under my skin, and sat in my throat like a warning.
Dust floated in the thin beam of afternoon light slicing through the curtains. My old living room. My old sofa. My father's worn-out armchair is still in the corner. It felt like stepping inside an old memory someone had abandoned halfway.
I shut the door behind me. The click echoed too loudly.
I spread everything out on the coffee table. The wooden surface groaned faintly under the papers:
– The photo of Dad holding little-me
– The photo of Dad shaking hands with Leonardo Rhys
– The police photo of the murder's weapon
Evidence. Memories. Ghosts.
My breath caught. My fingers hovered over each item like they weren't mine.
"None of this makes sense," I whispered. "The evidence clearly points to Leo, so why do I…"
My brain twisted between two impossible roads, one where Leonardo was innocent, one where he wasn't. Neither made sense. Neither felt right.
But every trail led back to him.
Every path. Every clue. Every shadow.
Nathan's voice echoed in my head, smooth, warm, coaxing, dripping with the confidence of someone who never doubted himself.
"If you really want to know whether I'm lying or not, try going into Leo's house. There's a room he always keeps locked. A secret room. Even the maids aren't allowed in."
He was right. If I wanted certainty, I had to open that door.
My gaze drifted around my childhood living room. The air still carried the faint scent of floor varnish. The carpet was still slightly uneven near the corner where I used to trip. Everything was familiar, but empty.
Then I saw it.
Dad's drawer.
A slow pulse of memory slipped through me, like a whisper brushing my spine.
"Val, listen carefully."
He crouched to my height, serious in a way that made my chest tight.
"If something urgent happens, truly urgent, you go to that cabinet. There's something inside that can protect you. But don't touch it unless you have no other choice."
I had nodded back then, not fully understanding.
I did now.
My hand trembled as I reached the drawer. I slid my fingertips along the wood's edge, searching for the hidden switch Dad had shown me once, years ago.
Click.
A soft sound, quiet but sharp enough to slice through the silence.
A concealed compartment slid open.
Inside, wrapped in an old piece of cloth, lay a gun.
My lungs collapsed for a moment.
"Dad… why did you…"
But I knew why.
He must have felt something coming. A threat. A danger. A person. A shadow. Whatever it was, he wanted me to have a chance he never got.
I unwrapped the gun. Cold metal kissed my palms. Heavy. Real.
Fear swallowed me whole but another feeling crawled up behind it.
Revenge.
I pocketed the weapon, grabbed my keys, and walked out before hesitation could drag me down.
~~~~~
Leo's house always felt too perfect. Too polished. The kind of place where nothing was out of place, nothing was accidental, and nothing escaped his control.
The door opened almost instantly when I knocked.
Leo froze when he saw me, eyes widening, chest tightening under his shirt. He looked… worried. Or surprised. Maybe both.
"Emily?" His voice was soft, laced with confusion. "What—what's wrong?"
I swallowed. My hand curled around the stone in my pocket. "I need to talk. About what we discussed earlier."
His eyes darkened with concern. "Did something happen?"
"Please. Just let me in."
He hesitated for half a second, too long, too careful, like his mind was assessing possible threats, outcomes, risks.
Then he stepped aside.
"…Alright. Come in."
The moment the door closed behind me, my heartbeat thundered.
He turned his back to lock the door…
My chance.
I pulled the stone out, raw, uneven, heavy.
And swung.
A dull, sickening crack echoed in the hallway.
Leo staggered, eyes wide with shock. Pain flickered across his face. He reached for the wall but missed.
His body hit the floor with a muted thud.
I stood frozen, panting.
"Shit," I whispered.
My hands trembled as I knelt beside him. Two fingers pressed to his neck.
Pulse. Strong. Good.
I wasn't here to kill him. At least not yet.
I moved quickly, searching drawers, shelves, cabinets. Neat. Organized. Sterile. He didn't leave anything to chance.
I opened the nightstand.
That's when I found it.
A key.
Small, silver, old-fashioned. Labeled with two simple words 'My Room'
My room? really?
I chuckled a bit.
What a creative name to label a secret room.
Okay, Val, you need to be serious right now…
I ran down the hallway. My breath bounced back against the walls. My fingers trembled around the key as I shoved it into the lock.
The soft click felt louder than thunder.
The door swung open.
I braced myself for horrors.
Blood. Chains. A dark room. A torture area.
But instead...
"A… kitchen?" I whispered.
It wasn't just a kitchen. It was pristine. Stainless-steel counters, polished utensils, cooking equipment that cost more than my yearly rent. Everything shone. Everything was arranged with obsessive precision.
Cinnamon lingered faintly in the air.
Vanilla scent everywhere.
And something warm, sweet, almost comforting.
I stepped inside slowly, confusion chasing fear.
Why would Leo hide… this?
A hidden kitchen?
For what?
My gaze drifted across each counter until it landed on a knife box.
A premium box. Clean. Perfectly polished.
A knife I had seen a hundred times. In my house. In the police report. In my nightmares.
The murderer's weapon.
My breath shattered.
"No… no, no…" My knees weakened. The room tilted. My eyes stung but refused to blink.
He had it.
Leonardo Rhys…
He had the murder weapon.
My chest seized. The air felt poisoned.
Nathan was right.
Leo—
Click.
A sound behind me.
A lock sliding into place.
I turned slowly.
Leo stood in the doorway.
His hair was disheveled from the fall. A thin trail of blood ran down his temple. His breathing was steady, but his eyes…
His eyes were nothing like before.
Dark. Quiet. Unreadable.
The door behind him was locked.
We were trapped together.
"Valerie."
What the hell? He knows my real name?
My fingers clenched instinctively, because when I looked down, I realized I was already pointing the gun at him.
Leo's gaze flicked to the weapon, then returned to my eyes.
Not angry. Not shocked. Something… else. Something dangerous in its calm.
"Put it down," he whispered. "Please."
I didn't.
I couldn't.
My hands shook, but the gun stayed aimed.
Leo took one step inside.
The silence thickened.
Two people. One locked door. One knife sitting between us like a ghost. The truth is ready to detonate.
Neither of us blinked.
Neither of us breathed fully.
Tonight,
one of us would die.