The silence after the kiss still clung to her skin, like the ghost of his mouth on hers. Eva hadn't meant to lean in. Hadn't meant to respond. But something inside her had unfurled, traitorous and wanting.
She couldn't shake the heat of his lips, the way he kissed like a man marking territory.
Enzo had left her breathless and shaken… but not broken. Not yet.
The next morning, she found a note on the nightstand.
No lies. No other men. No questions about my past.
— Enzo.
Rules. Written in ink, but they may as well have been carved into her skin.
There was no signature. Just that sharp, slanted handwriting that mirrored him cold, precise, unforgiving.
Eva stared at it, heart a knot of confusion and something darker. Something like… longing.
Her life transformed overnight.
The mansion was more than just marble and glass it was a kingdom. And she was its reluctant queen.
Noah had a new tutor, flown in from abroad. Eva watched her little brother smile more in a day than he had in weeks. New clothes arrived in sealed boxes. A private chef prepared meals she couldn't pronounce. A driver took them wherever they pleased.
She should've been grateful. She was.
But behind the silk sheets and designer dresses, something gnawed at her.
***
Enzo wasn't around during the day. He was either at the company or dealing with… things he never explained. But when night fell, he returned. Always.
Sometimes he didn't speak. Just watched her, like she was a puzzle he was in no rush to solve. Other times, he was intense, demanding, addictive.
The way he touched her like she was made to be ruined left her aching and breathless. But the way he didn't touch her? That was worse.
Because it meant he was thinking.
Plotting.
Tonight, the house was unusually quiet.
She padded barefoot across the bedroom, wearing one of the silk robes he'd given her. The hallway was empty. The air smelled faintly of cedar and danger.
Drawn by a restlessness she couldn't name, Eva found herself in his private study.
It was everything like him sleek, cold, controlled. Black wood, silver accents, glass shelves lined with books and old scotch bottles.
Her fingers brushed the edge of the desk.
He was always here. Always locking this drawer.
She shouldn't. She knew that. But her hand moved anyway.
She found a thin tool in the drawer set a letter opener and used it to gently pry the lock.
Click.
The drawer slid open with a soft hiss.
Inside was nothing but a photograph.
Old, faded.
Eva picked it up carefully, her breath catching.
It was a woman.
Young. Smiling. Wind in her hair.
She looked just like her.
Not just similar. Identical enough to steal the air from Eva's lungs.
"Was this who he saw when he looked at me?"
She didn't hear the footsteps at first. But the air shifted charged, like static before a storm.
Then
"Curious little thing, aren't you?"
His voice was low. Dangerous.
Eva jumped, heart slamming against her ribs.
Enzo stood at the door, expression unreadable. He didn't look angry. That was the worst part.
He looked calm. Too calm.
He stepped into the room, slow and deliberate. His eyes drifted to the drawer… then to her hands.
For a breathless moment, he did nothing.
He stepped forward, closed the distance between them. His hand hovered over the desk.
Paused.
Then he walked past it.
To the hallway.
He knows.
He's letting me keep the illusion that he doesn't.
The photo still burned in her hand. She slipped it back into the drawer and shut it gently.
His voice came from the doorway.
"Come. It's late."
She hesitated. Every instinct told her to ask. To demand the truth.
But instead… she followed.
She should've asked what was in that drawer. She should've said no.
Instead, her feet moved. Because with him saying no never felt like freedom. It felt like freefall.
***
He didn't say a word as they walked back to the bedroom.
She lay in bed later, eyes open to the ceiling, heart thudding like it was trying to outrun the silence.
The rules were clear now.
No lies. No other men. No questions about his past.
But now she knew…
There were secrets here. Ones shaped like her.
The next afternoon, while Enzo was away, she returned to the study.
This time, she didn't hesitate.
The drawer creaked open easier now. She reached inside, lifted the photo again.
But underneath it something else.
A second picture. Slightly torn. Framed by dust.
Another woman. Same face.
Only this one wasn't smiling.
She wore a hospital gown. Her eyes, empty.
Eva stared, heart crawling up her throat.
"Who are you…?"
She turned the photo over. There was a date scrawled on the back in smeared ink.
But the name?
Smudged out.
Just a whisper of one remaining letter:
S.
And behind her,
A floorboard creaked.